“I don't know. I don't know.” Lee wipes at her face with the back of her hand, trying to rub off some of the sweat and oil and grime. She'd kill for a long bath but the bathroom in here looks like it'll give you tetanus, nobody's risked it beyond ducking their head under the faucet for a minute.
She struggles upright, resting her entire body weight against the headboard and the wall behind it, her shoulder propping her up. Her eyes close in an attempt to fight off the nausea. When she feels like she isn't going to throw up again, her grip on Michael's arm loosens, colour returning to her white knuckles.