The Glass of Water

Alright, so I  wrote this short little piece a long while ago. I dug it out recently, and I found that I enjoyed it. I think I could do a better job now, but I wanted to see what you all think. Oh yes, and if you know me and you know my style of writing, you'll probably realize that this isn't my usual style. =)

       My throat smarted and burned. My eyes felt itchy and painful. My tongue was thick and cottony, as if swollen. A hammer pounded in my head. I was miserable. It was exactly 5:07 a.m. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. It was the kind of exhaustion you feel when you’re out late someplace, and come home with a headache. Despite the fact that my mom had given it to me hours before, the horrible taste of grape-flavored medicine still lingered in my mouth. I was thirsty –so thirsty. I swallowed, only making my throat scream. I craved ice-cold water.
       I swung my legs over the bed. I tried to stand up, then sat down again; hard. My head was as heavy as a bowling ball.
       But I needed to satisfy my parched thirst. Gathering from my low store of strength, I slid off the edge of the mattress and padded on the bushy carpet, then on the scratchy throw rug next to my sisters bed. In the dark hall outside my room, the dark shape of my cat lay sleeping. Unfortunately, I didn’t see him. Before I knew it, I was sprawled on the floor. My cat screamed that horrible cat scream and dashed away. I was so frustrated with myself that I almost burst into tears. I realized that if I didn’t get water quick, I would die. The tears did come then. To die in 6th grade would be… no. I would not die. With a great effort, I forced myself up on my weak elbows, and then on my feet and staggered down the stairs, through the living room, and into the kitchen. I was starting to get dizzy. My head swam. The silence buzzed in my ears. The room was whirling around me. I was falling, falling, into a black pit that would never end. I grabbed the counter for support. The smooth surface was slippery. My hand brushed against the glass vase of flowers my sister had picked, almost knocking it over. I can do this, I told myself. I took a deep breath. The cup cabinet was right in front of me. I grasped the cool handle on the cabinet door and pulled it open.
       I briefly selected one of our many clear blue plastic cups, which I had used since I was little, never letting go of the counter. With a shaky hand, I held the glass under the faucet. A stream of clear cold well water pattered into it and filled it up. Without waiting, I took a sip. It stung a little going down, but it eased the pain.
        After making the journey back to my room, I sat upright against the pillows, taking large gulps of my drink. It filled me with sleepy thoughts. The throbbing in my forehead subsided. My eyelids drooped. I fell asleep.

~The Scribbler