Yerk's Vomit

Yerk felt uncomfortable.
...stomach is grumbly and sour?... not fun...

Somebody told Yerk to deal with it.
What the hell do you want me to do, thought Yerk.  I don't know if I should eat or throw up, and you want me to "deal with it".  Fuck you, dickhead.  Yerk was classy like that.

Yerk felt more uncomfortable.
...stomach is definitely sour... just wanna lie down...

Somebody told Yerk to deal with it before it gets bad.
I'm fucking lying down, dickhead, thought Yerk.  I'm taking care of it, so shut the hell up.

Yerk felt sick.
Somebody told Yerk he should have taken care of it sooner.
Not helpful, fucker, thought Yerk.  Sooner passed us a long time ago, and now I feel sick, so to help myself, I'm going to get away from you.
Somebody told Yerk to throw up.
Somebody else told Yerk to poop.
Yerk just wanted space to figure out what Yerk wanted to do.

Yerk sat alone, feeling sick.
He didn't want to throw up.
He didn't want to poop.
He just wanted to feel better.

Saul sat down next to Yerk.
"Having a hard time, huh?"
Yerk just rolled his eyes at the question.  It was obvious that he was having a hard time.
"I know you can make your own decisions," said Saul.

Saul and Yerk sat.
Yerk continued to feel sick.  Really sick.
Yerk looked at Saul, just sitting there.
Yerk spoke to Saul.
"I hate throwing up."
Saul nodded his head.  "It's not a party, that's for sure."

Saul and Yerk sat.
Yerk started to really hurt.  It was really affecting his life now, this sickness.
He looked at Saul sitting next to him.
"I'm afraid if I throw up, I won't be able to stop.  It'll just keep coming."
Saul nodded.
"That sounds really yucky," said Saul.

Saul and Yerk sat.
And sat.
And sat.
And sat.
Saul said, "I would imagine that you have more sickness in you the more you hold it in, and it might feel relieving to let it go.  I know you're scared you won't get your control back.  And you may not.  But you won't be alone, even if you lose control.  And maybe that will help you face the unknown."

Yerk vomited.
He vomited all over Saul.
He vomited all over the ground.
He had to fight to catch his breath, and then he vomited more.
And it kept coming.
There was food in there from years ago, decades ago.
And it kept coming.
Food that he had forgotten about came up.
And it burned and hurt and smelled bad and was not a good consistency.
It was gross and sick and embarrassing that it all came out of him.
He felt weak and stupid and ugly and sick and so very broken.
He was always going to be sick.

Then he stopped.
And for a second he thought he was going to vomit some more.
But he didn't.
His body told him that he was done being sick.  He had gotten it all out and he was no longer sick.
He slowly started feeling normal again.
That familiar pain in his stomach was gone.
The lethargy was gone.
The general feeling of sick was gone.
And he felt even more in control than he did before.  He felt relieved.
"I stopped throwing up," Yerk told Saul, who was dripping and smiling.
"Yeah, you did.  And it only took you four seconds."
"What?!  Four seconds?  No, it was much longer than that!"
"I'll bet it felt that way," assured Saul, "but it was really only four seconds.  Don't get me wrong, it was an intense four seconds, and a lot of vomit came out of you in four seconds.  But it was only four seconds."
Yerk stared at the mess he had made and marveled.  "It felt like it was so long.  I felt like I was throwing up for at least a week.  More than that.  It felt like a huge time!"
"Yeah, I'm sure," said Saul.  "Do you feel better now, though?"
Yerk took stock of his body.
Yerk didn't say anything.
Yerk didn't want to say that he felt better, because somehow that would validate the vomit, and he HATED vomit.
Saul smiled.  He knew without Yerk needing to say it.
"I'm gonna take a shower," Saul said, "and then you wanna hang out?"
Yerk smiled.  And he really meant it.