Heartbreak, maybe? No, it’s just fear. The broken heart is mine, and with it shattered, there’s nothing to contain what’s left of me. The nausea spills in a violent rush, all I can do is turn my head to the side and let it out. It feels unending, and soon, I’m dry heaving, only bile left, yet my stomach still forces it out. And then, I hear the wailing, the broken sobbing of a woman who has lost everything, of a woman who has nowhere left to go but hell.
