She vaguely felt him vacating the space underneath her, felt him position her on the bed so that so that she was sort of kneeling. All she had on was one of his shirts, which she was swimming in, and her black lace panties. Marlene was basically reduced to a slumped over, dry-heaving pile. When she tried to ask him not to leave her alone on the bed, all that came out were short whimpers and gargled groans. Her eyes had disappeared behind her eyelids again, and all she wanted to do was fall over and go back to sleep. Or maybe shoot up just a tiny bit more. Maybe that would convince the Poptart to go down and stay down.

It felt like he had taken a freaking eternity, but Nathan finally returned to her side, passing over some sort of box. Marcy took it gratefully and held it close to her torso like it belonged to a deceased grandmother. "Thanks..." Her face promptly disappeared into it - partly because she knew this was meant to be the vomit-receptacle, and partly because she just didn't have the energy to keep it up anymore. Through her hazy state, she could feel him tugging something from her arm. What he was doing that for, she had no fucking clue. It only clicked when the dark inside of the box became slightly less dark, and the tugging on the top of her head indicated that he had just pulled her hair into a helpful pony.

Then again he left her on the bed, left her alone with the angry bile that only moments afterwards finally forced itself through her mouth. The sound of her retching, combined with the sound made when the previous tenants of her stomach hit the bottom of the cardboard rectangle were probably pretty disgusting. Marcy couldn't tell. Her ears were full of buzzing as she haunched over her own throw up again and again, until eventually it returned to dry heaving, and then the dry heaving fizzled out to silence.

After a minute or so of sniffling, Marlene finally lifted her head, mouth covered in specks of regurgitation. Eyes half closed, she slowly set the box down on the bed beside her, used whatever energy she had left to lift her arm and swipe the shit off her face with the back of her hand. Then she melted back into the mattress in a deformed fetal position, careful to keep the dirty hand off her pillow.

Another few minutes of silence passed, filled only with the sound of her deep breaths, before she opened her mouth again. And then slivers of guilt trickled out. "I'm sorry, baby..." Her voice was barely at a whisper, but the room was so small he had to have heard it. "I'm sorry... It's gonna be smelly in here now... Sorry..."