By lthr_jock
Clark staggered upstairs, still slightly unsteady on his feet. He tried to stand unsupported but wavered and had to hold himself up against the wall. He shook his head and pulled himself together and headed back to his post. But he hardly got there, when he grabbed his stomach and dived into the nearest toilets. There he threw up – he thought it must be a reaction to the drugs Palmer had given him but it could well have been a reaction to his rape by Morrison. As he thought about it, his stomach churned and he threw up again, retching bile as the protein shakes he had been eating for the last 2 days gave him little to bring up.
“Clark? You OK?”
He heard a voice outside the stall and stood up, grabbing his cap from where it had fallen on the floor and using it to hide his shaven head before flushing and heading out. There he saw Palmer, a concerned look on his face. He rubbed his stomach ruefully.
“Must have eaten something bad. I’m going to head home.”
“Yeah. Look after yourself, Clark.”
