She was hit with a brutal wave of heat, causing her to break out in a new layer of clammy perspiration. Then she felt a familiar flood of instinctive panic. Then a heavy heaving of her stomach. “Oh, God,” she moaned, her parched lips cracking as she tried to move them. Erin lifted her head with the little energy she had left and managed to pull her shoulders up enough to reach the little, plastic trashcan that had been placed beside her bed. She started retching, in painful, ugly, mostly dry heaves that felt like they ripped her apart. She’d emptied her stomach long ago, and all that was left to come up was the little bit of water she’d tried to drink earlier. Her large belly was cumbersome and in the way and made the whole thing even more unbearable. When she finished, she was drenched with sweat, her nose was running, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hair stuck uncomfortably to her wet face, and she had the worst taste in her mouth she could ever remember. But she couldn’t seem to find the energy to push her hair back.
