<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/>Instead of simply answering her question, Carlos had pulled her to himself.<span style="font-style: italic">“Lea, what is wrong with you? It is obvious that you have problems, always had problems probably. But seeing you like that makes me worry. And it is not about you sniffing coke, although you know how much I hate drug users. Did you ever have some therapy you told nobody? Do you have some medical problem? Or…?” </span>he stopped speaking a moment to grab her arms and examine them for, what she assumed to be, needle marks.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF"> “I don’t have problems. I just don’t like blood on my floor,”</span>she muttered as her eyes anxious followed his.<br/><br/>She watched while her heart pounded as he examined her arms, his eyes trailing down the length of them and she attempted to pull away but he held her in place. She knew he had seen her scars the moment he took a breath, seemingly catching in his throat. His eyes went to her face in clear surprise and alarm.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“When did you try to kill yourself? Lea, answer me!” </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF"> “Stop yelling at me!” </span>she yelled back, struggling to get away from him.<span style="color: #FF80FF"> “It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter!”</span>she repeated, still trying to pull away from him but too weak to break from his strong grip. He wouldn’t let her go and began to shake her some and she began to cry, her sobs echoing off the walls.<span style="color: #FF80FF">“I don’t know!”</span>She had lost count, though she knew her most recent attempt had been a month before. She didn’t say that; wouldn’t say that.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF80FF"> “Who cares? Why does it matter?!”</span>she sobbed out, not understanding why Carlos was so angry. Why did he suddenly care? He had stopped trying to help her after the confrontation in the parking lot, what was the big deal now?<span style="color: #FF80FF"> “Nothing is wrong! I’m fine. Please, I’m fine!” </span>