Chelsea returned home to Watery Lane, she opened the door to the betting shop and made her way in, flicking off her shoes and hanging her coat up.
"How was Mickey?" Isaiah asked, watching as Chelsea opened a bottle of whiskey and poured herself a large glass.
"He's doing better." Chelsea said, downing the bottle in seconds and pouring herself another one.
"Chelsea, we need to talk." Isaiah said, sighing as he took a seat beside the table.
Chelsea turned around to face him, after pouring herself another glass and downing that one, her throat burning from the taste, "About what?"
"About you." said Isaiah, pointing to the half empty bottle of whiskey, "You're acting different."
"Well that's what happens when you've seen things i've seen." Chelsea shrugged, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and drinking it straight.
"Yeah, you've been through a lot." Isaiah nodded, taking a step closer to her, "I get that, alright? And I am so sorry and if I could change it all, I would! But, if you keep acting this way, refusing me to help you, you're going to end up dead!"
"You're giving me speeches?" Chelsea laughed, "I'm not going to fucking die, Isaiah! I can't die! No matter how hard I try, even when I hold the gun to my head myself, I can't fucking die so you don't need to worry about that!"
Isaiah rocked backwards on his foot, "What did you just say? You-a gun- you tried to fucking shoot yourself? Chelsea, what the fuck-"
"Oh get over yourself." Chelsea scoffed, throwing her arms in the air, whiskey leaking from the bottle and splashing across the room, "This is my fucking life, alright? If you want to sit here and cry about it then I'm not hanging around to watch!"
"You've just told me you tried to shoot yourself and you expect me to sit here and be okay?" Isaiah asked, his face filled with hurt and anger, "What the fuck is happening to you, Chelsea? You're loosing yourself."
"Isaiah, just shut the fuck up."
"This ain't the Chelsea I fell in love with."
"She died when Chelsea died." Chelsea said, feeling the effect of the alcohol beginning, "I thought I'd be okay and then John died, that pushed me over the fucking edge. Yes, I'm different Isaiah, you can't change me!"
"I want to help!" Isaiah shouted, trying his hardest to get Chelsea to listen, "I want to help you but I can't if you push me away!"
"You can't help me!" said Chelsea, after swigging another gulp of the drink and slamming in down on the side, "You can't help me because I don't want help! I don't want you to save me! You can't fix me, okay? Get that into your fucking head!"
Isaiah shook his head, "What would Grace say?"
At the mention of her mother's name, Chelsee reached for the almost empty whiskey bottle, clutched onto it tightly, lunged her arm backwards and threw the bottle directly at Isaiah.
He ducked just in time and the bottle shot over his head and smashed against the wall.
Tommy ran in just as Chelsea began to lunge forward and punch Isaiah, he grabbed his daughter's arm and pressed his knee against her stomach, keeping her back.
"Don't ever mention her name again! Fuck you!" Chelsea screamed, trying to fight out of her dad's grip, "I don't want you to fucking sit here and tell me I've changed when I know that for myself! If you don't love this version of me then get the fuck out and leave because I'm not changing!"
"Get out." Tommy said, looking over at him, "I'll calm her down just get out, Isaiah! Go and Arthur and Ada and tell them to get down here as fast as they fucking can."
