Laura
The morning came with an unwelcome guest, nausea. I barely had time to stumble to the bathroom before I emptied what little was left in my stomach. My body heaved, over and over, until I was left clutching the cool porcelain for support, tears stinging my eyes.
It felt endless, this torrent of sickness. My head pounded, my throat burned, and my body felt so weak I thought it might crumble under me. "This is it," I croaked, wiping at my mouth shakily. "This is how I die."
When the nausea finally subsided, I collapsed onto the bathroom floor, heaving and weak.
"Laura?" Arlene's voice came from the door, followed by a soft knock. "Are you okay? Can I come in?"
"Y-Yeah," I managed to croak, my voice weak.
She opened the door cautiously, her face a mix of concern and pity. "Oh, honey." She rushed towards me, her hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. "It's the morning sickness, isn't it?"
