<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/>"I don't think you understand how this works," Lea said as she looked up from her hands, "This isn't something that is going to go away in 24 hours, Carlos." She sat back down on the couch, trying to figure out what to do. Carlos was right, though, if she went to work she would be far too tempted to drink or find some drugs for herself. But she had to work. Despite everything in her life, she needed to be able to pay her rent. Sometimes she was tempted to just say fuck it and never pay anything except for drugs, but that was usually when she was having a harder time with her emotions than usual.<br/><br/>Carlos was definitely right about the spasms though, even now she would shiver every once and a while. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle quitting. It hadn't even been a full day of willingly quitting and she was already ready to give up. That thought made her feel ashamed of herself, but she tried not to focus too much on it. "This will be the second night I've missed work, though..." she argued weakly, grasping at straws. She knew she was defeated, but she didn't want to admit it to herself quite yet. Besides, what would the two of them do all day? She would just become irritable and Carlos wasn't exactly even tempered himself.<br/><br/>"I'm supposed to meet with those guys today or tomorrow. They haven't called yet..." Lea finally informed him, sitting back into the couch and sinking into the cushions. She covered her face once more with her hands, dragging them down and letting them plop onto the couch on either side of her. Her head rested on the back of the couch as she stared at the ceiling. The color of the ceiling was an eggshell white and it bothered her for some reason. "Stupid...just...ugh...I should paint the ceiling," she said more to herself than anything. She averted her eyes to side glance at Carlos, "I fucking hate the ceiling. Do you see the color of it? It's awful..." she said.<br/><br/>She had switched topics unknowingly, probably something motivated by her obsessive compulsiveness that she had shown signs of in her cleaning. Maybe the withdrawal was causing her mind to bounce around. It didn't matter though, at the moment she had forgotten about working and she had dropped the subject of the drugs and money she owed. Carlos had said his piece and it was obvious he wasn't going to give in.