Where was she when he needed her? He thought, dragging a pillow over his head. He didn’t even notice the dampness of the material from the swear dripping from under his hairline. It didn’t get much worse than this.
“HOLLY!!” Gerry shouted, his voice cracking from pain. He writhed on the bed, waiting for his wife to enter the bedroom.
“What?
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"Holly!" he shouted, knowing full well that she was only in the next room but the pain forced him to shout or vomit. His head was turning to mush from the inside out, he thought, picturing the blood and pulp stream from his nose. He shook away the image. "Baby!"
"I'm coming, Ger, I'm coming."
Her voice was the steamroller that was crushing his head. He couldn't think, let alone realise that his loving wife, and that she was, was only trying to comfort him. His body failed him as the pain took hold. He could feel the wet warmth spread over his boxershorts. He froze as the realisation hit him. He hadn't wet the bed since he was 7. All he could do was look at Holly through squinting eyes, silently pleading for unconsciousness to take him.
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