Redemption

~19~

A/N: Some loving contained within these paragraphs, proceed at your own peril! (from @halfway through)

And as the numbers climbed so did her pulse.

What do you say Issy?

Would he answer the door?

She knew he needed to fix things in himself if she was ever going to entertain any thoughts of more than a few moments with him. But still his heart, or was it hers...

Or maybe it was both their hearts... drew her to him and she was so scared, so absolutely terrified she would fall into a whole lot of shit again. But she didn't turn around, she just couldn't. Her feet, her mind, all pointed towards him.

Issy had promised herself before leaving the lake house she would give away all of the hospital equipment, she only hoped he would do something to mend himself but giving away medical equipment was a lot different to cutting your vices.

The elevator doors slid open and her feet took her down the short passage to the only door it contained.

She tapped three times.

Hovering her hand hesitantly over the door, thinking about knocking once more.

The key sat securely in her pocket.

Did she dare use it if he didn't answer.

Waiting a few more minutes she knocked again, harder this time, with purpose. No response, no sound.

Leaning against the wall she threw her head back hitting the pale painted surface with a slight thud, looking upwards for guidance. If she was in her own environment she would be so very sure of herself, but here.... Here she was a foreigner as if in some far-flung land with a different language and customs.

She turned to the long rectangular window beside her and watched Central Park blindly, it was shroud in darkness with a few lit pathways meandering throughout. Cleo's needle she imagined in her minds eye.

Was he alright, was he angry at her, at himself, would he yell and curse for her to leave, or be asleep with his fist wrapping the neck of a bottle.

Issy knocked once more, harder, certainly more determined this time, desperate for him to fling the door open wide.... So she didn't have to turn the key herself.

Four, three, two, one..

She had counted down from 60 still wishing John would open the door but she gave up and slid the key in the lock.

Walking into a strange home after midnight she felt, in a way, like a burglar. Slipping off her high heels Issy spoke and walked on through the rooms, calling Johns name, asking him to respond.
Perhaps he isn't even even here?

The place was massive and she recalled Julian saying there was another floor of office space, gig and instrument room, and a small home studio! Memorabilia and gold records littering, basically discarded, in one room with no thought to showing them off. Was he even here?

Looking into each room as she passed by Issy saw a disarray of mess. Piles of junk, newspapers, takeaway food cartons, half eaten fruit. She picked up a discarded shirt and hugged it to herself.

How does a superstar become a fallen star?

Was he ok? Is he even here?

A long hallway, lit bright and nakedly bare. Void of photographs unlike previous walls she had passed along her way. Not one stick of furniture nor even any mess, for that matter. This hallway led her away from the once beautiful lounge room.