A few minutes earlier…
Vanessa clutched the edge of the bathroom sink, breathing heavily. Her reflection in the mirror didn't make sense—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, red lips slightly parted as her chest rose and fell quicker than normal. She could feel her heart beating inside her ears. It wasn't the alcohol. No way.
Her stomach had twisted earlier, but that sensation had passed. What remained now was worse—an overwhelming heat crawling under her skin, making every inch of her body feel overly sensitive. Her breath hitched, and she whispered softly to herself, "What the hell is wrong with me…?"
The air felt heavy, her skin tingling in waves she didn't understand. It wasn't nausea. It was something else—something artificial. And then, like puzzle pieces snapping into place, she remembered: the drink.
