I lean back against the toilet when he moves to rinse the cloth out. All shallow gasps and heavy swallows. I think I may still be sick again, my vision, my entire worldview, skewed. Off. Swirling.

"I... I hurt you." I lick my lips, panting slow and heavily. I look away from him, lifting one hand up far enough that I can close a fist over my chest.

"I almost hurt you m-mo... oh." I spin around again. Gagging again. Sick again.

I can't tell if it's the alcohol or my guilt that's causing it anymore.