I didn't care.
I didn't care what Kacie and Brittany and whoever else would pop in had to say to me. I'd had enough of my so-called friends and just plain didn't care.
Without any warning, I turned and fled the room, headed for the bathroom. All the awfulness of absolutely everything finally rained down on me.
Gagging, I lurched into the bathroom and leaned over the toilet. When my stomach was satisfied, I flushed the toilet.
And sank to the floor.
I'd had enough. I would go back into the hospital room soon; for then, all I could do was take a few minutes to calm myself down. I was tired of being strong. Goodness knew I couldn't take much more. Sighing, I hugged my knees to my chest.
"I know, God," I muttered. "I'll go back in soon. Just let me get a hold of myself."
Why on earth had my so-called "friends" shown up? Didn't they know all the pain they'd caused me? Yes, they probably did, and they surely only wanted to make the pain worse. Groaning, I ran a hand through my hair - my greasy hair. Oh, yes. I hadn't taken a shower that day. Oops. Yet another part of my life, gone down the tubes.
I'm such a weakling.
It was then that a Bible verse came to mind, one I'd been working on memorizing but still didn't have down word-for-word. Flipping open my phone, I scrolled through my notes until I found where I'd punched the verse into my phone.
My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.
It was a portion of 2 Corinthians 12:9, one I relied on quite heavily. Mouthing the words of the verse, I closed my eyes and held my phone to my chest. I've got to remember to carry a Bible around or something.
After several minutes, someone knocked on the door. Since my stomach was settling down a bit, I opened the door and walked back out of the bathroom.
Well, here I go. Back into the lion's den. Oh, help.