Whatever Ernesto was about to say, the pain cuts through it. You're bent double around the seatbelt, not even noticing the way it cuts in with the pain that's suddenly erupted in your guts.
"Are you alright, my friend?" He asks, gaze darting briefly away from the road and over to you. You can't speak. Your insides are burning, shredding, something.
"Something's wrong," you rasp. You've never felt anything like it.
"Maybe it was that--" Suddenly everything lurches. You barely think to grab that little in-car trashbin before the heaving starts. "... chorizo."
The pain in your gut doesn't stop. It's only spread to your throat now too. Your hands shake. You can see blood.
A sob breaks from you, born of fear and pain and regret for what you're about to say; "I need a hospital. We've got to turn around."
"You'll miss your flight, Héctor."
You moan despairingly, "I know. Please, por favor. Just--"
The car takes a sharp turn. Ernesto, for his part, drives much faster now. You don't look where you're going. You can barely lift your head. Everything aches. You think apologies in your head to Imelda and Coco. Coco, Coco, Coco. Why didn't you just go home? Why hadn't you left for Santa Cecilia sooner?
It feels like forever but even then you know the sudden stop isn't a good thing, especially with the sudden jerking swerve they take before it. You fight the pain and look up, seeing a fog ghost over the windshield.
"Ernesto?" You croak. The man stares out, wide eyed and bewildered, getting out of the car. Against your better judgement, you follow, one hand braced on the rental car and the other on your guts. Your eyes go wide too.
The city has vanished. Before and behind you is a vast stretch of wasteland. The colors are just slightly off, the light dim and hazy, shadows shift ever so slightly. But that, perhaps, really might be your mind playing tricks after all. Your vision starts to creep inward, blackening.
You feel hands. You say, "Go back... We've got... I've got to... Coco..."
The hands release you. You stumble. The ground rises up. You hardly feel it when you hit the earth. In fact, you don't feel anything at all.
(Prose or action as desired) cw: death, emeto, blood, poisoning
"Are you alright, my friend?" He asks, gaze darting briefly away from the road and over to you. You can't speak. Your insides are burning, shredding, something.
"Something's wrong," you rasp. You've never felt anything like it.
"Maybe it was that--" Suddenly everything lurches. You barely think to grab that little in-car trashbin before the heaving starts. "... chorizo."
The pain in your gut doesn't stop. It's only spread to your throat now too. Your hands shake. You can see blood.
A sob breaks from you, born of fear and pain and regret for what you're about to say; "I need a hospital. We've got to turn around."
"You'll miss your flight, Héctor."
You moan despairingly, "I know. Please, por favor. Just--"
The car takes a sharp turn. Ernesto, for his part, drives much faster now. You don't look where you're going. You can barely lift your head. Everything aches. You think apologies in your head to Imelda and Coco. Coco, Coco, Coco. Why didn't you just go home? Why hadn't you left for Santa Cecilia sooner?
It feels like forever but even then you know the sudden stop isn't a good thing, especially with the sudden jerking swerve they take before it. You fight the pain and look up, seeing a fog ghost over the windshield.
"Ernesto?" You croak. The man stares out, wide eyed and bewildered, getting out of the car. Against your better judgement, you follow, one hand braced on the rental car and the other on your guts. Your eyes go wide too.
The city has vanished. Before and behind you is a vast stretch of wasteland. The colors are just slightly off, the light dim and hazy, shadows shift ever so slightly. But that, perhaps, really might be your mind playing tricks after all. Your vision starts to creep inward, blackening.
You feel hands. You say, "Go back... We've got... I've got to... Coco..."
The hands release you. You stumble. The ground rises up. You hardly feel it when you hit the earth. In fact, you don't feel anything at all.
A void stretches and consumes.