Vomit. A lot of Vomit.

I woke up briefly, my head spinning and my mind cloudy. I opened my eyes for a second, and found the world was spinning and the walls were breathing. Before I had a chance to react, I felt my gut wrench.

A flood of putrid, rancid vomit forced its way out of my mouth and nose, and I desperately propped myself up on one elbow. I managed to avoid falling into my puke, and I did my best to roll my body away.

I fell back on my stomach and passed out again. The hours passed by in nauseated torment, and I felt the warm sunlight filter into the window, and then retreat again into the horizon.

Finally, after almost thirty hours, I awoke very early Monday morning. My living room and entryway was covered in vomit, and there was dried filth on my shirt, pants, and face.

I felt incredibly weak, and I was hungrier than I had ever been in my life. But the world had grown still, and I had totally emptied my stomach.

My first victim of the early morning was an entire frozen pizza, followed by several dozen chicken nuggets. I washed this down with an unhealthy amount of chocolate milk, and then some water.

I felt drained, and my body was sore from falling, running, and puking. But I was rapidly improving, and I spent the next few hours cleaning myself up and scouring every inch of floor with a wet mop.

By 5AM, I was clean and full. My apartment was no longer a bio-hazard, and in a weird sense, I had just got my longest sleep in years.

Satisfied with myself, I sat down at my desk with a warn cup of coffee. First, I pulled out the Book. Monica's name was crossed out, and a new one revealed itself. Joshua Quincy.

I would deal with that later. I had finished off two people this weekend, and I wanted to slow down a bit. Maybe the urge would grow more slowly now, since I had killed two this week instead of one.

With a sigh, I slumped back in my chair and pulled out my phone to see if I had gotten any messages. The first was from Riley: "Hey man, just wanted to make sure you got home safe last night, hit me up when you get a chance." I felt a twinge of guilt at having not responded to him for almost two days, but I would have to get back to him later, he was probably sleeping right now.

The next message came from an unknown number. "Huh", I thought. "Maybe Robert finally got back to me." As I read the message, my freshly replenished stomach threatened to empty itself once again. I laid the Book on my desk and threw it open. The name was crossed out. I blinked to make sure it wasn't some kind of optical illusion. For good measure, I even pinched myself, hard.

The black horizontal bar was still there. I read it again. The message had been sent early Sunday afternoon, at about one. "Hey Bryce! It's Monica, I got your number from Riley. I had a great time last night, it's a shame you have to leave so early. We seem to have a lot of mutual friends, so I'm sure I'll see you around soon. Hope you got home safe!"

I cast the Book an enraged glare. "Her name is crossed out! That means she's dead, right?" The Book rotated a few degrees back and forth, as if it was trying to shrug. I sighed loudly, throwing my head into my hands. What was I supposed to do now?

I took a few deep breaths and began to compose myself. I would respond to that message, and I would do it immediately. It was still very early in the morning, but I was well beyond caring about trivialities like social decency.

"Hey Monica, you have the right number. I'm very sorry about not getting back to you yesterday. I spent most of yesterday in a state of complete debilitation, and I must have missed your message."

I set my phone down and tried to bring my attention to the coming workday, but the infernal device vibrated again as soon as it left my hand.

"I'm surprised to be hearing back from you!" I didn't know how she meant it or what to say in response, so I just wrote back, "Why?". "The same reason you're surprised to be getting a text from me." I frowned. "I'm sorry Monica, but I don't understand. What reason?"

"Because our little date didn't go so well, if you could call it that. But I don't mind the rough start, and it seems like you don't either." A wave of relief washed over me. I wasn't sure why she was still alive, or why her name was crossed off, but I was thrilled to have avoided suspicion.

Before I could reply, my phone went off again. "Just kidding! I know you tried to poison me, but that's OK because I did the same thing." My heart sunk into my testicles. She knew! And what did she mean by, "The same thing?"

"The Xanax and alcohol thing was cute. Did you really expect that to work? Even if I were a normal human, I would have survived that. Now you, I'm surprised you're still standing. I won't give away trade secrets, but I had enough of a certain something in there to kill ten dudes."

I pinched myself even harder this time, just to make sure I wasn't having an alcohol induced nightmare. Unfortunately, I was still wide awake. "Why did you try to kill me?" I wrote, hands and body trembling. "I could ask you the same question. My reason makes sense, I have a feeling that your's doesn't."

In terms of information, she definitely had me beat. Normal human? A sensible reason for killing me? Had one of my victims been a friend of hers? Was she some kind of high society assassin?"

I shook the thoughts from my head. I needed to find out more, and I couldn't bargain from a position of weakness. "So", I wrote, "What's it going to take to get some answers from you?" "First off, an apology." She said. "Not for trying to kill me, but for doing such a mediocre job of trying." I grimaced; my plan was pretty poorly thought out.

"Anything else?" "Nope. I can imagine the last twenty-four hours have been punishment enough for you. The substance I used is usually pretty lethal, but when it isn't, it's known to do unspeakable things to the human stomach." That sounded very much in line with what I had experienced the day before.

"But as you can imagine, my dear Bryce, this isn't the kind of info you share over the phone. IF we're going to discuss this, we're doing it in person." "Fine." I replied, "Name your place and time." Saturday night, I had severely underestimated her. I had thought her to be some naive and foolish young woman, but I knew better now. If meeting she set up felt like a trap, I was going to bail on it. I wanted answers, but the answers would be no good to me if I died trying to get them.

"Our little rec club is having an ice cream social tonight. Why don't you join us for a bit, and you and I can have a chat." This must have been the recreation club where she and Laura met. "You know that little coffee shop on Willow street? There's an old antique store on the second floor that doubles as a lounge sometimes. The social's at 7PM. If you want details, that's where you'll get them."

As creepy as the location sounded and as vague as the description was, I figured I didn't have much of a choice. My curiosity was stronger than my survival instinct, at least for the time being. Before I could respond, another message came in. "And don't worry about an invitation, I already talked to our host, and he's excited to meet you."

Usually I was flattered when strangers were anticipating my arrival, but this time, it made my stomach churn. This had all the makings of a trap. I looked towards the Book for advice, but it was remarkably silent. At the end of the day though, my was made up. She had information I wanted, so I was going to have to take a risk and play by her rules.

"Alright, I'll go, please don't kill me in the first five minutes."