Vomit
Noticing Alisha's silence, Alice asked, “Angel, do you want to eat something or do something to improve your mood?”
Alisha looked at him, giving him a look that clearly conveyed, 'Are you seriously asking this?'
“What?” Alice shrugged, looking at her. “I think having your favourite food is good when your mood is bad.”
“I don't want to eat anything, I just don't,” Alisha rudely answered, pushing back the anxiety creeping in.
This man knows he won and he's not even considering how she may be feeling; he's behaving like a proper jerk.
Here she is, feeling nauseous, her heart in grief, and still, he has the audacity to ask if she wants to eat something she likes. It's like he doesn't understand her at all.
He is the devil trying to disguise himself as a saint, and she knows one thing: in one way or another, he can never be good in her eyes.
She never felt anyone was this wrong or bad, but after meeting Alice, she believes the worst exists, and he is that worst in her eyes.
How much hate she is feeling for Alice, only she knows.
It's like he's torn her heart open and is now pretending it's not him, when it's only him.
Who hurt her, then tried to console her, but in the process, hurt her more and more without any shame.
And now he's stroking her head as if he didn't forcefully take her out of her house just an hour ago. Nothing can be worse than this man; he literally infuriates her.
When she tries to confront him or show him his reality, he goes crazy about it.
“Alisha, what are you thinking?” Alice asked, seeing her lost in thought.
Alisha snapped back from her thoughts. “Nothing, I feel like vomiting….”
*Hummus! Uhh Uhh*
As soon as the words left, she immediately vomited on him, herself, and the car seat, unable to understand what just happened and how suddenly everything came up, and she couldn't hold it.
“What the heck?!” Alice cursed, as she literally vomited on him, the vomit near his chin staining him.
He made her sit still and rubbed her back. “Why didn't you tell me earlier that you wanted to vomit? We could have stopped the car.”
He pushed her hair back, which had not yet been dirtied by her vomit.
She vomited more on the car floor as she tried to stick her face out of the moving car's window, but Alice pulled her back.
“It's okay, vomit here. The car is already dirty, and I don't think it's a good idea to vomit while the car is moving. Stopping the car wouldn't be a good idea either; both of us are covered in vomit,” Alice explained softly.
Alisha, still feeling queasy, nodded weakly.
Alice kept a steady hand on Alisha's back, offering comfort and support.
“Are you feeling any better now?” he asked gently, concern evident in his voice.
Alisha managed a weak nod, feeling a disgusting sensation in her mouth from the bitter taste lingering on her tongue after vomiting.
“It's fine, we're almost home. You can clean yourself up there,” he said softly, trying to keep her calm.
He's a clean freak, but clearly, with Alisha, that went out the window. She vomited in his expensive car, on him, and yet, he's only concerned about her well-being; other things don't matter.
He can wash himself and buy a new car, but her health is paramount.
Maybe it's because she's traumatised by what happened. Of course, it's not easy to deal with.
‘So considerate,’ Alisha mumbled sarcastically in her head. Who would believe that this is the same man who caused her to vomit like this?
If only he were as good as he's pretending to be now.
But it's quite the opposite, not just quite, but totally opposite.
The car came to a stop, and the driver parked it in the parking lot. Alice opened the door and emerged, still holding Alisha in his arms, the remnants of her vomit staining his clothes, some soaked into the fabric while others threatened to drip onto the floor.
Without hesitation, he knocked on the door, and when it opened swiftly, he headed straight for his room, Alisha in tow.
Taking in the familiar surroundings, Alisha couldn't help but recall the events that led her to this moment. This house represented the biggest mistake of her life, a regret she couldn't shake.
If only she hadn't come here that day to search for her dog, she wouldn't have crossed paths with Alice, and her life would have taken a different course. She would have been spared from the situation she now found herself in.
As Alice carried Alisha through the doorway, she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for ever setting foot in this place. It was a constant reminder of the choices that had led to this messy situation.
As they made their way to his room, Alisha couldn't shake the feeling that her life had taken a wrong turn the moment she entered this house. If only she had stayed away that day, she wouldn't be entangled with Alice.
Alice carried her into the bathroom and helped her sit in the tub, which was empty. He reached for the hand shower nearby.
“Sweetheart, you need to undress and bathe. Let me help clean you up; it's really bad,” he said softly, giving her a gentle order.
He glanced at his own clothes, seemingly unfazed by the mess covering them. It appeared that anything could be tolerable in his life, if it's caused by Alisha, except seeing Alisha in distress.
Despite being covered in vomit, he seemed surprisingly composed.
‘Is he going to bathe me again?’ Alisha wondered. This pattern of bathing and caring for her seemed to be a recurring theme whenever he was around.
“Let me strip my clothes too,” Alice said, setting down the hand shower and starting to unbutton his shirt. He discarded it onto the floor, revealing his muscular, well-defined physique adorned with a few marks and scars.
His chiselled eight-pack was on display, his skin glowing under the bathroom lights.
"What are you doing?" Alisha asked, closing her eyes and covering them with her hands.
Alice smiled at her reaction, then proceeded to remove his pants and underwear. "It's fine. We'll be husband and wife soon.”
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