Her Wedding: Ch. 07

Try to keep yourself alive, even though you’d be dead by now, or tortured worse than death.

The effects of the heavy dosage of panadol in my system start to act up. It is the worst gastric sensation ever. My stomach is a furnace, burning the tissue-lining of my insides. Apart from that, my head feels like it can explode any moment. So this is what “burning in hell” means. In the inferno of hell, you burn from within. The flames consume you from the inside, coldly biting its way out. Yet, however much you feel like giving up, the suffering does not end until you are devoured completely.

Try hard not to vomit in your best friend’s car when he gives you a lift home.

“Sorry if your new Rolls smells of vomit,” I attempt to string these few words together. “It’s the god-damn alcohol just now.”

“It’s the alcohol and the panadol, you asshole,” Zed corrects me. “And I’m not taking you home. You’re going to the hospital.”

“Whatever…” I mumble.

Deep down, I know that he is right. Both the hard liquor and numbing medicine in my gut and bloodstream are making me retch. I am concentrating on keeping myself conscious. I have no energy left to argue with him.

“Why did you even have to do that?” he sighs. It is a rhetorical question. He knows me better than anyone. He already knows the answer.

I look into the reflection of his eyes through the rear mirror but keep quiet.

“Everything you’ve done… Is it even worth it?”