KATHERINE’S POV
The next morning, when I woke up, I was greeted by the now familiar feeling of nausea.
Groaning, I wriggled out of Murtagh's arms and listened carefully; luckily Parker wasn't crying.
How nice, I can throw up in peace.
I staggered to the bathroom as the nausea grew stronger; I could literally feel the acids pouring into my stomach and the leftovers from the night before (and the midnight ice cream, which perhaps hadn’t been the brightest idea of my life) trying to climb up my esophagus.
Spoiler: I never made it to the bathroom. The door was there, at arm’s reach, but the sickness was so strong and debilitating that I couldn't walk any further. The cold sweats increased, my eyes filled with tears, my stomach tightened, and within two seconds all the liquid, yel
