As we step off the plane in Florida, the humid air instantly wraps around me like a thick blanket. I adjust my backpack and glance over at Samantha, who's practically bouncing with excitement. Dahlia, as usual, looks unimpressed, scrolling on her phone, and Mom is already fussing over making sure we have everything before heading to the rental car.
After a long drive, we finally arrive at our vacation rental. It’s a cozy little beachside condo, and as soon as we step inside, Mom starts assigning rooms. I end up sharing with Samantha, while Dahlia gets her own room. Typical.
Once we’ve unpacked and settled in, we head out to a nearby restaurant for our first dinner in Florida. The place is lively, filled with the sounds of chatter, clinking silverware, and upbeat music. I order a burger and fries, while Samantha gets a kid’s meal with a toy, and Dahlia rolls her eyes at both of us before ordering something fancy just to seem mature.
The night is going fine until my stomach starts to feel... off. A strange discomfort builds in my gut, a heavy pressure twisting inside me. I shift in my seat, trying to push the feeling away, but it only gets worse. A sudden, uncontrollable warmth spreads between my legs, soaking into my shorts before I can even react. My breath catches in my throat, heart hammering in pure horror. A sharp cramp follows, and my stomach clenches involuntarily, the dreaded sensation of losing complete control washing over me in waves. A slow, sticky wetness seeps into the fabric of my shorts, clinging to my skin uncomfortably, and then, without warning, a deep, sickening heaviness settles at the base of my stomach. My muscles tremble as I try in vain to hold back, but it's already too late. A sluggish warmth spreads lower, pressing against me with unbearable weight, the thick sensation making my breath shudder. The seat beneath me feels damp, my thighs sticky, and my entire body burns with embarrassment as the reality of my accident settles in like a suffocating fog.
Dahlia is the first to notice.
"Oh my God," she says, her voice dripping with amusement. "Did you just—oh, this is priceless!" She bursts into laughter, leaning back in her chair, drawing attention from the nearby tables.
My face burns hotter than the Florida sun. I glance at Mom, desperate for help, but she just looks at me with that concerned-mother expression that somehow makes it worse.
Samantha, sweet as ever, whispers, "It's okay, Allison," as if that helps.
I want to disappear. Right here, right now.
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