"Descent into Darkness"

The warmth of the blanket and your gentle care had lulled Tokyo into a fitful sleep, but it was short-lived. A violent wave of nausea crashed over her, sending her bolting upright in bed. She threw off the covers and staggered to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before she was hit with a torrent of vomit. The sound was like a ragged gasp, and the smell was acidic and intense. You were right behind her, holding her hair back and offering words of comfort as she retched and convulsed. The first episode passed, and Tokyo collapsed onto the floor, exhausted. You helped her back to bed, but it was clear that the night was far from over. A few minutes later, Tokyo's body began to convulse again, and she grabbed the bedside bucket, vomiting into it with a series of wrenching, dry heaves. The bucket was small, and Tokyo's body seemed to be producing an endless supply of stomach acid and bile. You took the bucket from her and set it aside, fetching a fresh one as Tokyo began to vomit again. This time, she made it to the bathroom, but her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor, vomiting onto the tile. The sound was like a wounded animal, and the smell was overwhelming. You were there in an instant, holding her close and speaking softly into her ear. You grabbed some paper towels and began to clean her up, trying to comfort her as she whimpered and shook. The night wore on, and Tokyo's body continued to rebel. She vomited again in the bathroom, then once more into the bucket, which you emptied and refilled with ice. Each episode left her weaker and more exhausted than the last. You stayed by her side, holding her hand and talking softly to her, trying to calm her down. As the hours ticked by, Tokyo's vomiting became less frequent, but more intense. She began to dry heave, her body wracked with spasms that left her gasping for air. Her eyes were sunken, and her skin was slick with sweat. You fetched a cool compress and applied it to her forehead, trying to bring down her fever. The eighth and final episode of the night was the worst. Tokyo vomited onto the floor, a mess of stomach acid and bile that you quickly cleaned up. After that, she was spent, her body exhausted and her spirit crushed. She lay on the floor, her head in your lap, and whimpered softly as you stroked her hair. As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Tokyo's body finally began to relax. Her vomiting slowed to a stop, and she lay there, spent and defeated. You held her close, feeling her ragged breathing and her weak pulse. You knew that she needed medical attention, and you made a mental note to take her to the hospital as soon as possible. For now, though, you just held her, trying to comfort her as she drifted in and out of consciousness.