Skylar

The world tilts as I force my eyes open, the light piercing through my silver gaze like shards. The familiar, unwelcome wave of nausea rolls over me, pressing me down into the mattress. With a groan, I sit up slowly, steadying myself against the vertigo that makes the room spin. My hand flies to my stomach, a silent plea for the discomfort to pass.

"Come on, Skyler," I whisper to myself, the sound of my own voice a tether to reality. "You can do this."

I inhale ...