I collapse in front of the toilet, my knees hitting the tile hard, and I barely get my head over the bowl before I'm violently sick.
My entire body convulses as I grip the sides of the toilet.
My throat burns, and my eyes water.
I gasp for air between heaves, my lungs screaming as I try to breathe through the nausea.
I feel like I'm a teenager again, and I've drank too much, and now I'm paying for it. Though the thoughts are not, "I swear I'll never drink again," it's, "This is because of the pill."
The withdrawals, the lack of it in my system, are making my body reject everything.
Another wave hits, and this time I don't stop until I'm dry heaving.
My stomach clenches, my ribs aching as I kneel here, frantically flushing.
He can't see this.
Girls who got sick became "broken addicts," Maxim said, and those girls were discarded and sent off to worse places.
I feel sick again, and I try to muffle my sounds.
I take deep breaths, trying to stop it all, and I realize it's not just Maxim's voice in my head telling me I'm worthless if I'm broken.
It's something deeper.
Something that's been growing inside me for months, the overwhelming thought that Maxim was right.
Even if Adrian came, he wouldn't want a broken, drug-addicted whore.
He rationally abandoned me because I allowed myself to be nothing worthy of saving.
Even though I was forced. Even though I fought at first, and even though I screamed and cried and begged, Maxim somehow made me think otherwise.
Made me believe everything he said.
And the scary part is, I don't know if he was right.
I lean back slightly, my body trembling as another dry heave wracks through me.
What if Adrian sees me like this and realizes I'm ruined? Or if he looks at me with disgust and sends me back?
Panic floods my veins. No, just be quiet, be perfect, and you'll be...
A knock on the door.
"Leni?"
I try to stay still, like he'll just go away.
"Leni, open the door."
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Go away. Please, just go away.
Another knock, harder this time.
"Elena."