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Everything hurts, the sour stains his hands and his clothes and his mouth and it hurts. His nose hurts and his throat and his chest and his stomach and his heart.
He wants to turn into a little ball, wants to stop being human, wants to stop being until it doesn't hurt anymore but he can't. And that hurts too.
It almost seems that the only thing he knows is pain. Maybe it's true, maybe all the good memories he has, full of affection and warmth and kindness, are inventions of his brain to escape the reality that torments him; but that would be meaningless because he can't remember the world being so kind before all hell broke loose.
Gagging comes over him and his body trembles, he has nothing left to vomit but his body tries to keep going and hurts.
He thinks at some point he started whispering for one of his siblings, because he feels out of breath and he thinks his mouth is moving in a way that doesn't work for vomiting, but he couldn't be sure.
That it hurts is the only thing he's sure of.