Just as I Begin to Fade

Twenty Two. Toxic

Lindsey had grown kind of concerned in the last few days as he had not seen Gwen at school, though she was sending in her homework via e-mail and he had not heard from Stevie at all, not since their last encounter.

Finally it was Thursday afternoon and he could leave at a regular time rather than stay late in his office. He took it as an opportunity to roll by the Nicks-Jones Manor.

When he got there, he noticed Gwen's motorcycle and Stevie's car in the driveway.

Stepping off of his vehicle, he walked over and he caught the teen just in time; she was cradling her helmet in between her hands and she was dressed pretty causally; straight-leg, light washed jeans, a black camisole with a leather jacket over and the combat boots she seemed to wear every day. Her curly hair was down and over everything, she was wearing a cross-body purse.

"Gwen?" he called out to her.

Her head shot up and she looked over. Setting her helmet on the bike, she walked over to meet him further. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to know where you have been and why your mom's not answering the school's calls. Mine for that matter," he explained.

"She's... depressed," she shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Where are you going? Where have you been?"

"I'm going to run a couple of errands; I have to go to the bank before they close. Our rent is about to be late, she didn't tell me and now I need to drop it off to the owner. She said she had it handled, but..." she shook her head. "I need to run by my dad's and see how he's doing. Then I need to pick up my check from Derek," she glanced down at her watch. "I gotta go," she assured. "You can do your best with her, but she's not getting out of bed. She hasn't eaten in almost three days, she's drinking, but she isn't drugging so..." she shrugged. She then walked back over to her bike and she swung her leg over in order to get on.

"Be careful," he advised since she revved the engine a couple times.

"Yeah," she put her helmet on and then flew down the street.

He arched a brow to himself and then he walked up the steps to their porch and he then knocked on the door.

There was no response.

He knocked again, louder and more prominently. "Stevie, I know you're in there, it's me!" he continued. When he didn't get an answer, he repeatedly knocked.

Eventually, the door would open. "Alright, keep the noise level down please..." she calmly replied and walked back inside and then looked back at him. "Well, come in," she offered his perplexed expression.

He cleared his mind and he realized what he was doing.

To fog him up a bit was the sight of her; he slightly disheveled bed hair, the long, black, silk nightgown on her body that hugged her perfectly, her pale skin and flawless features and her deep red nails and toes.

He shut the door behind himself and he joined her at the table where she put an ice pack to her head.

"What can I do for you, Lindsey?" she wondered. "Whatever you need, seems urgent..."

"Well... You haven't called me like planned. I think we need to talk about what happened on Friday evening as well."

"Let's not go there, please. I'm really sorry for kind of pushing, but it wasn't the intention."

"Seemed as though. Gwen said you were depressed and drinking more... not using drugs. Are you okay? Are you withdrawaling?"

"It's called manic depression, Lindsey. I have episodes and some are worse than others, but yes also withdrawaling..." she shrugged. "It's because of the drugs, because I'm trying to kick this shit. Simple," she shook her head.