I woke up hot.
I mean, I knew I was going to, but it was still a bitch.
I don't remember getting back into the house, or how long we stayed out in the rain, but it was doing what it was supposed to do.
The blanket that I had been sleeping under was completely soaked in my sweat. I could feel my back sticking to the couch where I was pressed against it and I couldn't help but sneer in disgust.
My head felt heavy as I fought to open my eyes wider than the slits that they currently were, my throat dry, and every part of my body felt like I had just gone ten rounds with a Mack truck and lost each one of them.
I stayed still for a moment, letting the heat and pain pass through me instead of fighting it. I knew that fighting it would only make it worse and probably lead to my death. I could feel my vine tucked away in my sports bra, offering what little comfort it could.
