I sway on the spot, obviously my sea-sickness is still here. Greeaatt... I feel fresh bile rise in my throat, "Oh no!" I say, sprinting back into the on-suite, lifting the loo lid up, pulling my thick, wavy black hair up into a 'pony tail' using my hand as the bobble, I barf into the loo.
After five minutes of non-stop puking, I turn and sit on the floor. And this os why I don't like boats. I can never escape the puking! I crawl over to the sick, using the baisen to pull me up. I wash my face with cold water, I grab a glass from a black shelf and fill it with chrisp clean water.
I down it in zero point six seconds.
I gasp, panting for air. I giggle at the thought of my step-mother watching the past ordeal. I walk slowly out of the on-suite, dragging my feet on the soft chasmer carpet, feeling too unwell to walk normally, princessy. I open a random white door, which is next to the on-suite, but opposite to the french windows leading to the balcony. I peak inside, hoping (not) to find a dead body. My eyes widen and I gasp at the contence.
Rows upon rows of clothes. I ignore the cream society exceptable clothes and go straight to the clothes from home. At least 'Father' isn't quite so heartless. I strip out of my vomit covered clothes and pull out my white and black horozontal summer dress, I hop into it, and put on my velvet jacket. I pull my black thigh length boots out zip them up, re-do my kohl eyes. Thankfully I don't look too frumpy in this onsomble, as both of my parents are tall, I came out as a small 5'9 - considering their height, you'd understand.
I fluff up my hair, and walk out to meet everyone. I wonder what they'll all think of this oufit.... I giggle to myself.