existence

Winona woke up with a pounding headache—inevitable when mixing painkillers with alcohol, a cocktail of drugs not recommended. She was in a helpless state, still questioning, "Where did I leave David?" The headache felt like a blade stabbing her brain, a hangover inducing deep dizziness. Just the exposure to light made her head throb. She hated this feeling as much as she detested craving another pill.

-Winona, come on, you have to wake up, - said Billy, from the floor not too far, yet not too close, enough to shake her, gently by her side. Winona opened her eyes to see the guy dressed in a suit and could only react to the sunlight, the dizziness, and the smell of alcohol—or was it perfume? She regurgitated, trying to hold back, closing her mouth, attempting to calm her nausea, but it was unstoppable; her body needed it. She ended up vomiting on the bed and on Billy who was beside her, spreading vomit across the room.

She pounded Billy's chest, splashing his neck; it dripped down to his pants. Billy breathed deeply. This woman is a mess in every aspect.

-I'm sorry, - Winona said, embarrassed.

Billy went straight to Winona's bathroom and tried to clean himself with a large towel, attempting to rid the smell from his skin, but it was an unpleasant odor. Winona looked pale and white; her dark circles highlighted the nauseating appearance, and her Cartier dress, now vomited and damaged in some spots—a total disaster, no rhyme or reason.

Billy took off his shirt as quickly as he could and soaked it in the sink. He looked somewhat bulky, and broad-built, but not much muscle there; his adolescence was more evident than maturity in his suit.

-I'm sorry, - Winona said, staggering; her words were a whisper. She felt drowsy; her mouth was drier than ever, and she felt like vomiting again.

-It doesn't matter; it's just vomit. You're a mess. We have thirty minutes to get ready for the set, - Billy said, downplaying it, observing her in the mirror.

-I don't want to go, - Winona said softly.

-You have to go. Come, you need lots of water and ask for fresh fruit, whole wheat bread, and jelly. Get your clothes ready; we'll go to my room. It smells horrible here, and I don't trust it entirely, - said Billy, putting on the blazer over his bare torso. Winona didn't object and did as she was asked.

In her mind, she could only be ashamed for calling Billy names and saying bad things about someone who was only trying to help her. She grabbed a white shirt and large gym pants, Converse shoes, and followed Billy.

-Good afternoon, sorry to bother you. I would like you to thoroughly clean in half an hour in rooms 408 and 415. Yes, sorry for the inconvenience. When I go down to the lobby, I'll pay for the laundry service for some clothes, - said Billy.

-You have to shower - said Billy.

Winona examined the room and saw everything so tidy and clean that she thought she was in a new room; who makes their bed in a hotel, only a compulsive clean freak. She tried the water, and it was warm; her head was throbbing and pulsating, like a swollen hand; she felt it was going to break from the inside, but she managed to bathe and get ready.

She found a large blue sweater next to her clothes and decided to put it on. Her headache was less severe; she stumbled out of the bathroom and decided to sleep for a while, fifteen minutes, for the door of Billy's room to open again, and he entered with a tray of food, wearing a sports shirt; he locked himself in the bathroom. Winona slept peacefully, feeling somewhat better than a few moments ago; Billy came out again dressed, and the vomit trail ended.

-Come on, Winona, you need to wake up; we have to go to the set, - said Billy, taking her temperature on her forehead. He didn't feel any strange heat or a high temperature.

-I want to sleep a little longer, - Winona said, like a ball.

Billy couldn't help but sigh at the woman in front of him; she still didn't understand.

-Come on, wake up, - said Billy.

Opening her eyes slowly, she composed herself, although she didn't expect the care. She cut up the fruit, slowly disassembling it. She had breakfast as much as she could and didn't try the little rolls, but she moved silently so as not to disrupt the atmosphere. She couldn't help but compare it to other people she knew; most would have left her vomiting in bed. It was quite irresponsible—she thought to herself—putting on the black sunglasses with care.

-Come on, let's go downstairs; they're waiting for us - said Billy.

They both left the room with their wet hair. Winona, on the other hand, was a mess, something Samantha Mathis noticed, discreetly observing the couple coming down in the elevator; the two-hour delay was strange, but not many paid attention. Two hours of filming is something the director cannot overlook, but it doesn't represent a big problem. With the arrival of summer, good weather allows everything to be arranged without any inconvenience.

Winona emerged first, now more awake, and better suited for the situation. The dizziness persisted but wasn't as overwhelming as before. Vomiting relieved most of her pains.

She spotted Trini Alvarado talking to Kirsten's mother, with Kirsten sitting on the table, poking at her breakfast. Winona tried to muster a smile, but she felt exhausted, only managing to feign some sympathy; now she had to act even in her personal life.

-Billy! -Kirsten shouted from afar.

-Miss, - Billy acknowledged.

-I heard you're going to be my savior today. I'll fall into the water, and you'll come to rescue me—another cheesy scene. I don't see the point, - Kirsten remarked.

-I've got the know-how, - Billy commented, giving a brief nod to Kirsten's mother and Trini, who were whispering some things with Winona. Billy only dared to bid a polite farewell. It's better to distance himself; if he stays another minute among these women, they'll likely chip away at his sanity for the rest of the day.

He walked through the brisk Massachusetts air, not exactly inviting due to the strong winds he couldn't help but curse the cold weather and the many years spent living in California, but the change was welcome. He took a deep breath and felt the urge for a good vacation, to forget it all, to find some space that would bring him peace.

He walked for thirty minutes to the recording studio, which was already beginning to start. Another workday kicked off abruptly with a strong team effort.

...