Breaking Without You by Ryan Carrie Ann

Author:Ryan, Carrie Ann [Ryan, Carrie Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Adult
ISBN: 9781947007420
Goodreads: 39862714
Published: 2019-04-16T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

I wish I could strangle your brain sometimes. Out of love. Because screw migraines.

- Allison in a text to Violet

Violet

There was a special place in hell for overhead lighting, the sunlight that was streaming through my open curtains, and any form of light on any electronic device I owned.

Yes, I was slowly losing my mind because of everyday things, such as light.

Let there be light, my ass.

Bile rose in my throat, and I staggered my way around my living room, doing my best to keep my eyes shut as I drew my curtains closed.

When I decorated this house, I had known that I had a migraine issue. I’d had it since I was a teenager, and no amount of Botox shots or any other meds seemed to help. Oh, they would help for the short-term, but it was like my body got used to them, and then I would get another migraine the next month that would set me back even more.

So, I had made sure that I had beautiful curtains that looked decorative but were also able to block out any form of light that could come at me.

So, while sunlight was the thing of the devil, my blackout curtains were peace.

At least, part of that peace.

I rummaged around, trying to ignore every single sound that I was making since it seemed amplified right then, and found the scarves and other sheets that I used to cover my lampshades and other things around my house.

I still needed some light to function, but I could mute it as much as possible.

In the end, my house would resemble a den of iniquity, but I didn’t care because, somehow, it gave me comfort.

Not that I was anywhere near comfortable just then, but I could at least try to improve my mood.

My stomach grumbled, and then I almost threw up, knowing that while I was hungry since I hadn’t eaten in over a day, there was no way I could swallow anything. Just the idea of anything more than water—and water was a lot at this point—would be too much for me.

I had gotten home from Cameron’s the day before and had fallen face-first onto the couch, groaning as my head started to ache.

I didn’t even have time to think about the fact that my heart ached or that anything else a little lower ached, as well. I was too busy trying not to throw up on myself because everything hurt. Thankfully, I had fallen asleep, but I had done so with the curtains open and a single lamp on. That first burst of light into my eyes when I opened them after my very horrible rest had been too much for me, and I had thrown up right on my carpet.

I was usually better at preparing myself, but I was so out of sorts from everything that had happened, that I was clearly too many steps behind on this migraine.

“I just want to go to bed,” I whispered to myself, but then I winced because I had been far too loud.

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