The moment we entered the hotel room, I rushed into the bathroom, throwing up everything I'd taken in since this morning. Which was basically just water, blood and chips. The blood under my fingernails wouldn't all come off no matter how much I kept washing it.
As I threw up, I thought about how the conversation with my dad went. The guilt in his eyes, the way he blamed himself for all the mess. I didn't even know he felt like that.
And him crying...
I was still trying to make sense of that myself.
He'd also tell me to man up.
Once I was done I joined Lucas in the room.
The room itself had that nostalgic throwback vibe to the 70s, with its mustard-yellow walls, shaggy carpet, and vintage furniture. It wasn't as extravagant as the places I used to stay, but it had a cozy, cool grandparent charm. The bed was neatly made, and the floral quilt had a retro feel to it. A lava lamp glowed on the bedside table, casting that soft, undulating light.
