The morning had not yet fully broken when the sound reached him.
Demian woke not to sunlight, but to a familiar, choking noise one that made his chest tighten instantly. He opened his eyes with his breath held, then bolted upright as he heard Valerie retching beside the bed.
"Valerie—"
He didn't bother to dress. Demian was out of the bed in an instant, dropping to his knees at her side. Valerie was bent weakly over the edge of the mattress, her body shaking violently, one hand clutching the sheets as if they were the last thing keeping her upright.
Demian rubbed her back, his movements stiff at first, then slowly gentler, steadier.
"Breathe… slowly," he said, his voice low but trembling. "I'm here."
Valerie didn't answer. She kept vomiting, her breaths broken, her face so pale it looked nearly bloodless. Her hair, usually neat, clung to her temples with cold sweat.
Something crawled up Demian's chest real panic, the kind he couldn't control with orders or logic.
