<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/>Carlos hadn't called her back and she didn't blame him. Maybe he really was done, maybe he didn't mean what he said. Maybe he never had intentions to help her. Her manager had called her, but she had said she wasn't going to come in, not feeling well. Night fell and Carlos had still not called, her already sensitive emotions stung at the realization he wasn't coming. That was it, then, she guessed. The only hope she had left had gone away and there was nothing left for her.<br/><br/>She stood and began to look through her apartment for anything that Carlos might have missed when cleaning it out in hopes of an escape, becoming more and more frantic as time went by and her search efforts turned up nothing. She began to throw dishes out of her cabinets, them shattering on her floor as she went and it was satisfying. She began to pick up anything, throwing things across the room, vases shattering against the wall, books thrown off their shelves, things thrown off the counter. Anything to get the pain out. If she couldn't escape with drugs, she would just tear the place apart until it reflected how she felt inside.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF">"Liar!" </span>she yelled into the empty room, crying.<span style="color: #FF80FF">"I fucking knew it! I fucking knew it!"</span>she sobbed out, the energy leaving her as she sunk to the kitchen floor, uncaring about the shards of glass that cut into her feet, soaking her white socks with blood. She covered her face with her own cut up hand, crying into them.<span style="color: #FF80FF">"I knew it...I knew it..."</span>she kept repeating, unable to handle the pain of Carlos' abandonment. She didn't hear the loud banging on her door, too busy with her tears.