<span style="color: #FF80FF"> <span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: center;">Lea Stevens</div></span></span> </span><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn24/SociallyToxicBeauty/036e0d3a-b28c-47ec-b858-0eaea6c67e4d.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FF80FF"><div style="text-align: center;">"Jazz"</div></span></span></span><br/><br/>When Lea woke in the morning, she felt like absolute shit. Her body was sore, her face was tender, and she felt as if she were ice melting in the sun. Carlos had his arms around her and she felt suffocated by the proximity, desiring nothing but the coldest and hottest of showers at the same time. It took her a few minutes, but she had managed to disentangle herself from Carlos' arms without waking him to stand.<br/><br/>She had felt disappointed when she had woken up, wanting to remain in the dream in which John was holding her. It had felt so real and she had been beyond disappointed to wake up in the motel room with Carlos, though he had provided a sense of comfort. Her dreams were always so jarring, but last night's in particular left her feeling more lonely than ever. She supposed that sleeping in the bed with Carlos wrapped around her frame had triggered some sort of memory of John. She had to admit though, it was pleasant while it lasted it.<br/><br/>Lea's legs threatened to give out on her the moment she stood, but she ignored it as she felt bile coming forth. She rushed to the bathroom and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, what little she had in her stomach forcing its way out. She had never had such a reaction before, as most days her come downs and withdrawals were more emotional than anything. She had to be coming down with something. She had, after all, been running around with wet hair and little clothing in the cold weather, along with being tossed around a bit. It seemed to her it would only be natural that she was sick now. She groaned in discomfort, upset that she felt so terrible.<br/><br/>Lea stood once more, flushing the toilet and rinsing her mouth at the sink. She then turned on the shower and debated whether or not it should be cold. Eventually she had decided on cold, despite how painful it was. She sat in the shower, rubbing her face and shivering.<br/><br/>She wondered what she was going to do. She couldn't stay around Carlos. She wasn't any good for him and she doubted he was any good for her. Still, she was scared of being alone and was more afraid of the killer than she was willing to admit. But she couldn't handle the treatment he had shown her the day before. She couldn't handle any treatment of any kind, really. She just wanted to be left alone.<br/><br/>She looked down at her wrists thinking of Carlos' words the day before. He had said the only way she'd be without him is if she were to take her own life, something she clearly didn't have enough courage to follow through with. She traced the rosy skin with the soft tips of her fingers wondering if that was the truth. Did she never have the courage or did she have some sort of hope deep down that she would be okay someday? Maybe it was a mix of both.<br/><br/>The despair felt deeper than usual this morning and Carlos' words were sinking into her bitter mind. She finally switched the water off, drying herself and then dressing quickly. She brushed her teeth, though she avoided looking at herself in the mirror. The bruise had gotten darker over night and there was a new one around her throat. She was just glad that her sweater covered it for the most part. She doubted her manager would let her work in this condition, but she would try anyway.<br/><br/>When she came out of the bathroom, it looked as if Carlos was asleep, and so she went over to the chair at the table and began to put on her shoes. She was going to leave. She was still angry about the day before and felt rebellious. With him asleep, she had far more courage and she needed a drink. Something to calm her, something to give her a sense of peace. The burning, warm feeling of alcohol would do that for her. It would hold her down for right now until she could find a way to replace all the shit Carlos had thrown out the day before. Shit that wasn't all hers--shit that she was supposed to give to some others. She hoped she managed, or she would be in quite the pickle.<br/><br/>Her hand reached for the door and as quietly as possible she unlocked it, opening it and stepping out into the cold air, the door softly clicking closed behind her. It looked as if it had snowed while they had slept and she shivered against the cold. She didn't have a jacket, but it didn't matter. She wasn't quite sure how she'd get home without money or a car, but she would worry about that later. For now, she began to walk.