#she was also like um are you SURE you aren’t bipolar? like absolutely sure because this could be low key mania

[crystallllines]

just gonna sob for a bit because the aprn told me not to schedule a follow up and continue working with my psychiatrist to find a solution while also going to bed later and waking up MUCH earlier

she said go to bed at like 23:00 and wake up at 6:00 EVERY DAY. which i mean fine it’s not like i’m actually sleeping i guess… but also… fuck, jack says he intends on waking up with me. i hope that wasn’t just boyish optimism on his part because i do NOT want to spend six hours awake with sue and john on my own. bro. no.

[ittakesrain]

Track Your Shit

I sat on the couch in my psychiatrist’s office with my arms crossed and steam billowing out of my ears.

“Are you on cocaine?” he asked without a hint of sarcasm.

“No,” I shot back, completely bewildered but appropriately defensive.

“Then you’re bipolar.”

Yup. That was how I was diagnosed.  And to my memory, that was really the only major piece of information my psychiatrist gave me that day.  There was no supplemental information given to me, no sort of enlightenment or introduction into the all-consuming project that would be managing my difficult and sometimes debilitating condition, and I left the office with what felt like a really random label and a higher dose of Abilify.  I was nineteen years old, I was a chemistry major in college, I’d kicked the hell out of an eating disorder, and I was bipolar. The facts didn’t matter too much. Right?

Over the next several years, I really didn’t hear the word “bipolar” all too frequently, in or out of my psychiatrist’s office, despite the increasingly, uh, intense fluctuations in my moods and energy as well as steadily growing anxiety and irritability. Weird, am I right? For a diagnosis that impacts pretty much all aspects of a person’s life, in one way or another, to not be mentioned nearly enough times? There are more fitting words, but sure, we’ll go with ‘weird.’

By the time I graduated college, I knew my diagnosis was playing a larger role in my life that I originally assumed it would.  I started keeping track of when I took my meds (and with that tried not to miss any doses). I recorded my moods more frequently.  I did some cursory research into my disorder. And I finally started noticing patterns in my cycle and knew to watch out for specific warning signs.  And mind you, doing all of that was a pretty big accomplishment for someone who was given virtually no guidance. Not to mention a medication regime that was significantly lacking.

The first thing I realized was that my episodes often began with feeling “emotionally itchy,” or “like I want to rip my face off” and “jump out of my skin and out of who I am as a person.” Thanks to the knowledge I have now, I can use different language to describe what actually goes on as I inch ever closer to a major episode. I become incredibly irritable and experience what’s called “dysphoric mania.”  I have the racing thoughts and flight of ideas that come with manic episodes, meaning my brain is running at a million miles a minute and I can’t keep myself focused on one idea long enough to think it through, but it’s not what anyone would call a happy feeling (not that mania is to be confused with mere happiness). In my dysphoric state, I have too much energy, so much so that it physically hurts me as it swells from within me and threatens to burst open at any second.  I often cut myself in such a state because I need the assumed and metaphorical emotional release as well as the physical release of endorphins in response to injury.

Then I began to see that if I missed my meds for any period of time longer than a day or two, I felt the effects about two weeks later. If I forgot (or “forgot”) to take my Abilify for let’s say a full week, I’d be in the middle of a relentless and torturous depression in about fourteen days. Sidenote, I shouldn’t have missed ANY days of meds, but lo and behold, I wasn’t exactly warned all too well against it. But to see a pattern, to determine the cause of a specific (and dramatic) dip in my moods, was hugely influential in my life. Not to mention, it brought me to google how the medication I was prescribed actually works. And, spoiler, every single human being who is prescribed any medication at all should be aware of what the fucking medication does and how it works and all of that. Seriously. So important. Turns out Abilify is “long acting” and takes about two weeks to leave my system.

Furthermore, Abilify is a type of drug called an “atypical antipsychotic.” Those types of drugs are frequently used as mood stabilizers. They’re the second generation of drugs that you’ve probably seen being used on dramatic medical shows or movies about psychiatric hospitals that knock people who are acting “insane” out. They’re used as tranquilizers. Haldol is an example of one that works fast and Thorazine is an example of one that works somewhat slower. Those are called typical antipsychotics. Atypicals like Abilify have fewer side effects. They work to influence serotonin (the neurotransmitter sometimes called the “happy molecule”) as opposed to blocking signals from dopamine (the “pleasure and reward” neurotransmitter).

Right. So as you see I’ve become fairly well-versed in the goings-on of impending episodes and the key pieces of information surrounding them. Again, this is phenomenally helpful. But my point is that I should have been given this information from the get-go. I should’ve been prepared and taught, should’ve been armed with education given to me by a human being who knew what the fuck was happening to me and how bad it would potentially get if I didn’t have the fucking said information! I got there myself, and I’m damn proud of myself for doing so. And it still brings me peace of mind and a sense of control to research bipolar disorder, and learn new things about treatments and meds and biochemistry, and to work through my recorded moods and symptoms to find existing patterns or warnings. But for fuck’s sake, why wasn’t I told about the importance of recording the fluctuations or about psychoeducation as a tremendously powerful tool?

Alright alright, not going to continue dwelling on the past and how I was royally screwed (at least not in this particular blog post). Because as I look to the future, I know things will at the very least make more sense. I’ll at least be able to understand this bullshit and from there hopefully combat it better.

Which brings me to a few months ago as I began to embark on a new and more um, intense journey of self-discovery and understanding –which, in turn, is allowing me to feel significantly less dread about my eventual (and inevitable?) next episodes. It started when I wound up in the emergency room for the first time in October 2018 when a depressive episode took a terrible turn for the worse. I was 27 years old and at the end of my rope. Exhausted from years of worsening symptoms and my cries for help going unheard, my begging and pleading remaining unnoticed, I collapsed into chaotic despair.

The good that came from that particular visit to rock bottom was that I subsequently found a therapist (no, I hadn’t been in therapy previously and yes, that was really dumb) who is literally the coolest person ever, in addition to being really fucking good at what she does. And a few months after that, my amazing therapist helped me find a better psychiatrist, and from there we all began the arduous task of getting my act together and trying to stabilize the shitshow of my life.

As it turns out, since I was on a medication that didn’t do much for me for such a long time, my bipolar disorder was able to “mature.” To further develop and overall just get worse. Literally look it up. It’s a known thing that bipolar worsens if left untreated, and I absolutely feel that mine at the very least wasn’t being treated properly. Lucky me.

But since beginning to see my therapist in November and my new medication provider in February, I’ve learned like, so so so much. I know to stop and breathe when I start to get worked up, because I know I have gone for long periods of time without inhaling and exhaling like a functioning human. I know that I fidget around and repeat purposeless motions (“display signs of psychomotor agitation”) because it comforts me when I’m anxious. I know I have issues with control, with the desire to feel safe, with things that aren’t fair.

Also. Insomnia is a huge red flag for me and for the majority of bipolars. It’s both a symptom of approaching mania and a trigger for it. Meaning, when you start staying up all night long, you’ve gotta find a way to get some sleep before it gets worse and leads to an episode. It also means that you can’t voluntarily pull all-nighters (if you can help it) because that might land you in the middle of a manic break as well. And as if that wouldn’t suck enough, a despairing depression would most certainly follow the agitated (hypo)mania.

Alcohol is another one. Now, I’m not huge on drinking. I never partook in any of that before I was of legal age anyway (which is perhaps a testament to my nerdy younger self haha), and once I started drinking, I had trouble getting past the gross taste. I still do. But when I drink as an adult (which I haven’t done in a few months, mind you), I drink to get fucked up. So basically, I drink in a way that’s literally terrible for my bipolar. It’s a cycle, too.  I’ll have a bad day and come home and take five shots of fireball, and I get shitfaced so I have a terrible day the next day. It’s similar to insomnia in that it perpetuates itself and that I’ve gotta be responsible about it.

[On that note, by the way, I should say that maintaining stability involves quite a few key things (such as sleep hygiene, med compliance, the nutrition you fuel your body with, the way you move your body, being mindful and having the ability to focus on breathing, following pre-set routines, your support system, your coping skills and crisis-management tools, and your healthcare professionals…to name a few). It’s imperative to keep up with each thing to prevent all hell from breaking loose.]

I’ve also come to see that, for whatever reason, my major episodes usually have a definitive end but not a clearcut start. As in, I can identify the specific day my depression ends, but the irritability and frenetic energy and aggressive outbursts start out kind of slowly and increase steadily until my moods surrender into despondent melancholy. At this point, I believe the phenomena has to do with my tendency to ruminate and nearly drown in repetitive thoughts. I really struggle with redirecting my brain away from negatives. It could also be because of my coexisting ADHD, but either way, I can’t knock myself out of a bad mood as easily as most people can. So even something small going wrong has the potential to send me spiraling. I can’t think myself out of it. But I can easily make it worse –by ruminating and letting the negatives repeat like a broken record in my head. The decline, therefore, moves like a ball rolling down a ramp. On the opposite end of a “crazy spell” (as I called them way back in the day before I learned all this enlightening information) we have the ball being yanked back up as if it was attached to a string or something. As in, something good can happen that completely “snaps me out” of a major depression. It’s wild to think about. Like, fuck, why can’t more good things happen? Maybe then I’d spend less time wanting to die. I have, however, come to learn how to put myself in the line of things that have the potential to knock me off the crazy train. File that under “bitchin’ coping skills.”

Thanks to psychoeducation, I’ve also come to understand some of my personality traits. I’ve often called myself “volatile.” I fly off the handle fairly quickly, I accelerate from zero to 100 faster than the Kinga Ka roller coaster at Six Flags. My therapist calls it being reactive, and I prefer that phrasing now. My reactivity is part of my personality, but I understand it more clearly by looking at it through the lens of what I know about bipolar disorder. Similarly, in addition to reacting more, I react bigger. I guess some people might call it being dramatic, but again, I prefer to think of it in terms of how my therapist explained it: I’m wired intensely. I feel things in a bigger way. She once said something along the lines of “you can light up a city with your emotions,” and I don’t think she used the word emotions, but that was the gist. My intensity if a part of who I am. And honestly, as much as it can be super annoying and anxiety-producing, it’s not all bad and I choose to label it as a good thing.

Oh, and I pretty much knew this already, but I like to write/type because in my bipolar brain, the thoughts move more quickly than my mouth can move. It causes me to stutter, or stumble over my words, or lose my train of thought because I didn’t say something the right way and I can’t make my mouth move in a way to correct myself because I have fifteen thousand other thoughts flying through my mind and I can’t focus on any of it now. I exhibit pressured speech. Oh yeah, that’s one of my faves.

Thanks to psychoeducation, I’ve learned why I cling to my routines with a death-grip. Doing so is legitimately helpful to people with bipolar. Which is why going on vacation or starting a new job or a new chapter in life can throw bipolar people off in such grand ways. Circadian rhythms are screwy in us. We need to work hard to keep that shit in check. And the sleep-wake cycle and yes, routines, are part of that.

Okay then. With all of this knowledge being attained and a few more trips to rock bottom (and the emergency room) since October 2018…here I am. Still holding on, and doing better at that holding than I have in a while. A month and a half of normalcy without anything rocking the boat? I feel pretty damn good, thank you very much.

Oddly enough, stability can be just as scary for me as the complete and utter chaos of the rest of it. Like, now I have no excuses for not moving forward. Ugh, I have to move forward. But ya know what, I will. Because I’ve got the bipolar symptoms under control at the moment. There’s really nothing stopping me, so I’m sure as hell not gonna stop me.

Keeping records is absolutely fucking necessary. I’ve got no choice but to record my moods, anxiety, and irritability. I’ve gotta take my meds every fucking day and keep track of if I ever miss a day (which I shouldn’t). I need to write down other factors that play a role, such as my periods and when I have therapy and life stressors and stuff like that.

It’s taken, holy shit, so much work to acquire the awareness I currently have. And moving forward will require consistently working on what I know and actively seeking more information. But dude, I’ve come this far. I’m not gonna stop now.

[avalancheobsessed]

Special Pt 5 - Tyson Jost

A/N: Y/ALL! IT��S FINALLY HERE! IT TOOK FOREVER BUT IT’S HERE!

W/C: 2006

Warnings: N/A

It's been 2 days since you've last seen Tyson in person and 3 days until he is supposedly going to surprise you. The snow outside was already melting since Colorado weather is what you like to call, bipolar weather. It can be a blizzard one day and 90 degrees the next. That didn't stop you and your Colorado friends from going sledding though. You met up at the mall sometime before 8. All you can remember about getting there is chugging coffee to avoid falling asleep at the wheel and blasting your favorite playlist til your ears were ringing. It takes about 2 to 3 hours to get to the hill in the mountains that everybody likes and those hours were not very pleasant. Not for you at least.

"You gotta dish the details sis," your best friend, Alyssa, says after you're all situated in the car. There's 5 of you total: You, Alyssa, Sadie, Emma, and Payton. Four of you met in freshman year of highschool but Emma was a year behind in 8th grade. Ever since then, you've never kept any secrets from them and told them absolutely everything no matter how personal or tragic. They were always there, and they always would be.

"Oh my gosh yes you have to tell us," Payton chimes in, nudging you in the stomach. You shake your head with a slight smile on your face, trying to hide the red that's spreading everywhere.

"Guys she's blushing! Aww," Emma says on the other side you. Why did you have to be stuck in the middle?  

"C'mon (Y/N)," Sadie, who is driving, encourages, "We know who he is. How did you meet him?"

You sigh, desperately wanting to avoid this conversation because it makes you all bubbly inside and that scares you.

"Well," you start, "We were on the same flight to DIA and by the power of whoever controls this stuff, he sat down next to me." The girls giggle and shift in their seats with excitement. You continue the story, "And I, um, bitched to him about my English assignment which he ended up helping me with," they give you a look, "willingly," you add.  

"Okay," Emma says.

"Ok?" You ask.

"What else! There has got to be more than a stupid English assignment and flight delay," Alyssa says eagerly.

You sigh and end up telling them everything. Not just how you met, what you said, did...felt, but also what happened after. Running into JT and Kerf, getting Chloe hockey equipment, meeting up with Tyson. The not-so-nice DMs and comments you got on some Instagram pictures. They all listen intently, nodding and making some noises here and there. When you finish your story, you sit back and close your eyes releasing a stressful breath.

"Hun, you got a husband right there," says Sadie, who has been quiet the whole time focusing on the roads. You don't quite process what she says until everyone is agreeing with her.

"Wait, what. Sadie no. I just met him," you sputter out quickly. She just- she didn't mean- do I- what?

"So? He's totally into you, and you're totally into him. You gotta take him off the market before someone else snatches him up." You roll your eyes at her comment.

"He's just a friend and a great guy. He doesn't like me that way." All four of them scoff.

"Dude you are so stupid. You really think a guy you just met, who's 'just a friend' would want to hang out with you twice in one day, promise to make your birthday special, and every other damn adorable thing you told us? Nah. He likes you. Admit it. We're right, you're wrong," Payton says, grabbing your phone from your lap.

"Woah woah woah what are you doing!" You grab for your phone but Payton blocks you with her back, shoving your arms away with hers. You're still processing what she said when she puts the phone up to her ear.

"Dude! What the hell are you doing!" Payton shushes you, and everyone quiets down. You can hear Tyson say hello in a sweet voice. Payton turns her head, eyes wide and doesn't say anything. Tyson says hello again, this time adding your name. Payton shoves the phone into your open hand and you put it against your ear without a second thought.

"Hey!" You greet, everyone except Sadie watching your every move.

"Hey (Y/N)," he speaks softly with a hint of raspiness in his voice, "What's up?" You glance at your friends and bite your lip. What is up? You just gushed about him to your friends so one of them called him because she knew you wouldn't?

"I'm just heading up to a sledding hill in the mountains with some friends. Sorry, did I wake you?" You glare at Payton. No, you didn't wake him. Payton woke him.

"Yeah but it's fine. It's nice hearing your voice early in the morning," he says and you can hear the little smile he has on his face as he does. You start smilingly uncontrollably and melt into your seat. Your friends smile with excitement and Alyssa wiggles her eyebrows at you. You slap her elbow which results in a quiet screech.

"Aw I'm sorry. I uh," you aren't quite sure what to say, "I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do something tomorrow?" You hear shuffling on the other end and your voice echoing. He must've put you on speaker.

"Well," his voice sounds far away, "I've got practice tomorrow morning but you can come and we can get lunch after? How does that sound?" You smile at your friends, now thankful that Payton called him.

"That sounds great, I'll be there," You're about to hang up when he starts saying something.

"You know actually, I could pick you up before practice and drive you there if you want?" He's taken you off speaker, and also off-guard.

"Oh! Um, yeah! Sure!" You stumble over your words and feel the heat rising in your cheeks. They're grinning at you now all proud like they've won the 'Getting Your Lonely Friend A Boyfriend' award.

There's silence for a moment, just breathing. Alyssa opens her mouth to say something and you clamp a hand over her mouth so she doesn't ruin whatever is happening.

"You know (Y/N)," Tyson breaks the silence, "I'm glad you called. I know we haven't known each other for a long time but you're a good friend." Your heart can't help but sink a little at his words.

"Thanks Tyson. You are too." You respond before putting your thumbnail to your teeth. You say your goodbyes and hang up. Your friends can sense the drastic change in your mood and turn on the radio so you don't have to talk. The remainder of the drive is filled with music, and eventually more talking, just not about Tyson.

When you get to the sledding hill, you're all excited to see that it isn't crowded and that there are no little kids. There's only a couple small groups of people that at the moment are drinking hot chocolate at some of the picnic tables. As you're all unpacking the sleds and snow clothes, Payton elbows you in the stomach.

"Ow! Jesus Payton can you not?" You exclaim, massaging where her elbow hit. She ignores you and instead nods at a group of boys at the top of the hill and one of them watching your group. You eye him cautiously, almost like a threat. A 'hurt my girls and you will pay' kind of threat. He shines a bright smile in return and you turn away from him.

"Okay he is so into you Payton," you whisper to her while grabbing your snow coat and boots. "You should go say hi." You see her smiling and shaking her head out of the corner of your eye.

"Dude you are so stupid. He isn't looking at me, he was looking at you," she glances over your head, "and he still is." You look at her with your eyebrows furrowed, before turning to look back at the mystery guy. Payton was right. His eyes are trained on you. Well shit.

"Nope. No. No way. This is not happening." You say much louder than necessary.

Payton rolls her eyes, "Don't tell me you're loyal to someone you're not even dating yet."

"Ah you said yet. Meaning Tyson is someone worth waiting for," You reply, walking around the vehicle to grab your phone.

"Well why not make him move a little faster then? Make him, ya know, jealous," she replies with a wink or two.

"Nope. Nope nope nope. That isn't happening," you open up Snapchat and take what you deem as a cute selfie.

'Can't wait for tomorrow!' you click on Tyson's name and then shove your phone in your pocket after it sends.

"Fine. Be lonely forever, I don't care," Payton exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. If you only heard her voice you'd think she was mad, but she has a cheeky smile on her face.

"Are we ready to go ladies?" Sadie asks, holding her sled.

"Yeah," you say, grabbing your sled, "we're ready."

She locks the car and you all make the trek up the hill.

"We are so racing," Alyssa says to you, a challenging glare accompanying it.

"Okay Hot Shot, let's go," you laugh.

You set your sled down and get in position. Emma stands in between the two of you and counts down.

"3...2...1," she pauses, "GO!"

You both take off down the hill but you move your weight too forward on accident and flip. You feel the snow slip under your sweatshirt and soak your undershirt. Letting go of the sled, you drag yourself on the snow to slow down. When you stop moving you hear all your friends laughing and Alyssa walking over to check on you.

"You good?" She asks, sticking a hand out. You take it and haul yourself off the snow.

"Yeah I'm good. I totally get style points for that right?" you say with a laugh.

Alyssa laughs and nods, "Sure." She turns to walk back up the hill.

"Hey," you call out to her, "I'm gonna chill down here for a bit."

She sends a nod your way, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but my clothes are soaked now so I'm gonna change."

She nods again, and you disappear to the car, taking your sled with you. It takes you a few minutes to find your extra shirt and college sweatshirt and this time around you decide to grab your actual winter jacket. You walk back to the hill but decide to sit down at one of the picnic tables. After a few minutes of sitting, you hear footsteps behind you and turn your head.

"Hi," says the guy from earlier. The sun reflects off of his blonde hair, making it look almost like gold.

"Hi," you reply, turning your head back to the hill.

"Okay. Never had a girl reject me that quickly," he says passive-aggressively. You roll your eyes.

"Well when you're staring at a girl from a distance, you shouldn't expect them to treat you like you're not a creep." You grab your sled and stand up to start sledding again.

"Hey, maybe I'll see you around?"

"Where would you see me around?" you ask, turning around.

"Your sweatshirt. I go to the same college. Have you never seen me before?"

You shake your head at him, "Oh. And yeah, I've never seen you before."

"We hang out at the on-campus park if you ever want to come say hi."

"Okay. Thanks for the info," you say dismissively before walking back up the hill to your friends. You didn't want to be rude but the guy was staring at you and your friends like a creep. It's not attractive.

"Hey (Y/N)," Alyssa says, "ready to go again?"

You send a cocky smirk her way, "Oh yeah."

[thedoctorishereguys]

Rules: I was supposed to tag 25 people. I’m not doing that. I hate tagging people. Do it if you want to. It passes time.

I grabbed the open tag from someone or another. IDK. It’s on my dash quite a bit today. Hello, whoever I grabbed it from!

LAST: LAST THING I BOUGHT: Coffee. LAST STORE I VISITED: CVS, but I work there. Uh. Fuck, I haven’t gone to any store in like months other than my work. Uh. Gas station, I guess, for my smokes? LAST TEXT MESSAGE: “I can come in for work now if you can pick me up. TY.” LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO: Everyone says don’t, sung by Raul Esparza. LAST THING I ATE: Shit, when did I even eat last? Fuck. Um. Yeah, this would be easier to answer if I ate more than like once a day. I think steak? Maybe? Idk, really. HAVE YOU EVER: DATED SOMEONE TWICE: Nope BEEN CHEATED ON: I don’t think so? But I wouldn’t put it past the bastard I was with, really. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: … Honestly, y’know, that’s complicated. I regret the relationship I was in, but I don’t regret having been sexual in general with that person? So… yes and no? Idk. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: Yes. My great-grandmas have been gone 12-13 years now and I still have trouble talking about their deaths. BEEN DEPRESSED: I have bipolar disorder, depressed is one of my main emotions. BEEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: Way too many times to count. IN THE PAST YEAR HAVE YOU: MADE A NEW FRIEND: Yes FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: No. But I haven’t fallen in love either. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: Yes MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: Yes. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR TRUE FRIENDS WERE: Yes. In all the good ways, found that people I didn’t realize were close really were. I ended up in a psych ward due to a complete mental breakdown, and I realized I had an entire support network that I never thought to ask for help from before. Just everyone in my life really rallied around me. One of my friends, who generally hates driving distances, drove almost an hour to the hospital to see me, sometimes more than once a week (I was there for almost a month). That same friend also hugged me when he left, even though he is the least touchy-feely guy in existence. One of my work friends got really worried about me when I stopped coming to work, but he still didn’t pressure me to talk about it, just asked me what he can do to help, but told me that he doesn’t need to know what happened, only what I’m willing to share. I did tell him everything, because he is a good friend, but he was so good to me. People I hadn’t talked to in ages, because I was isolating severely beforehand, came and visited, or called, and it was just so touching. Even now, a couple months later, people will ask me how I’m doing, and my best friend (the one who drove couple times a week to visit) makes sure to call me several times a week just to check in, just so I don’t end up in that situation again. After the first psych ward visit (I had two this summer), I attempted suicide, and I called that best friend in a panic that I needed to get to the hospital, but I didn’t want my parents to know what I had done, so I didn’t want to call 911, and he came and got me right away, and he stayed at the hospital for almost 2 hours, until they took me back into the psych ward. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: Yes, a coworker, but she does that to everyone, although I think I’m her special project. I don’t much care. GENERAL: HOW MANY PEOPLE ON TUMBLR DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE?: Uh… no one, I guess, but I still defend I know enough about one to count it, so there. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: No and thank god. I’m not an animal person. I used to have lizards, but they died on me. I like lizards. I wanted snakes, but my mom (with whom I still live) said absolutely fucking not. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME?: Nah, I like mine. Wish people would pronounce it right, but that’s a different matter. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP THIS MORNING?: 6 fucking a.m. Which was only because I was due in at work at 7, otherwise, I am not conscious before 1pm, and often sleep until 3. WHAT WERE YOU DOING LAST NIGHT?: Hm. Work until 8pm, which was hell, and then fucking around on the computer until like 1a.m. Which may explain why I feel like death today. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: Getting to drive again? Coffee with a girl next week? Seeing my best friend again? HAVE YOU EVER MET SOMEONE NAMED TOM?: … Honestly, I’m sure I have, but none come to mind. Must not have made a huge impression on me. WHAT’S GETTING ON YOUR NERVES RN?: Not much. I’m too tired to give any fucks about anything. Uh. The existence of 7 a.m. I’m pretty sure the devil invented mornings as a punishment for our sins. BLOOD TYPE: A positive. I used to be a blood donor, so I’ve known my blood type for years (I am no longer a blood donor, because the last time I donated, I got so sick my doctor was tempted to transfuse my blood back in.) NICKNAME: I don’t have one. And that’s fine with me. There are no ways to shorten my name, it’s only two syllables, and I don’t particularly care for pet names. Dear and sweetheart and honey are just… ugh. The only one I like is ‘babe’, and obviously, that’s not one I’ll let many people call me (I do have a coworker who calls me that, but she’s awesome, so she can) RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. ZODIAC SIGN: Which one’s the zodiac? Is that the one with the animals, like the rat and the horse and ram, or is that the one with the astrology crap, like Cancer and Aries and Taurus? Either way, I’m a horse and a Sagittarius. And it makes no fucking difference. The year you were born in has zero effect on your personality, and the gravitational pull of the planets even less so. Actually, people have done the math, and the gynecologist present exerts as much gravitational pull on you (because all objects exert gravitational pull, not just planets and stars) as some of the planets on the horoscope, so if you really want to blame someone for your failings, why not the doctor who birthed you? The whole thing is an utter load of nonsense, really, bullshit fucking pseudo-science idiots keep falling for because they need something to believe in, because the stark reality that there is nothing guiding their lives and everything is random is too bleak. (This bleeds into my problems with religion, too, by the way, but I have a measure more respect for that, because at least it instills some level of ethics, which astrology utterly fails to do. But only a measure more.) PRONOUNS: She/Her FAVORITE TV SHOW: Doctor Who, Doctor Who, Doctor Who. All the goddamn way, do not take away my Doctor Who. Every other show can go off the air before you take away my precious Doctor Who. COLLEGE: I went to a state school. HAIR COLOR: Black with purple. LONG OR SHORT: My hair? Or other random body parts? I don’t have a penis, otherwise I’d totally make a dick joke here. My hair is as short as I can get it. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEBODY: Totally! And she said yes to a date, so score! And then there are fictional characters and celebs, and I really need to be better at tagging my posts so @hawkland doesn’t slap me one of these days. FIRSTS: FIRST SURGERY: Breast reduction, 2009. FIRST PIERCING: Ears, 2014. FIRST BEST FRIEND: … First? You honestly expect me to remember that far back? Fucking hell. FIRST SPORT YOU JOINED: Basketball? Soccer? Idk, it was one of those two. FIRST VACATION: That I can remember or that I went on? Because the first that I know of was Slovakia. The first I can remember was… Huh. Hungary, I guess? FIRST PAIR OF SNEAKERS: Who the fuck remembers their sneakers? I couldn’t tell you what sneakers I own right fucking now.   EATING: What are you asking me? First time I ate? First thing I ate? I’m guessing so, since this is under firsts… Well, is breastmilk a food or a liquid? Let’s go with food. So first food was around 10 minutes old and it was breastmilk. WTF is wrong with you? Who else would say anything substantially different? Sure, maybe they had formula instead, but no one is going to say, “Oh, I first ate at 25, and it was a fine steak dinner.” If they do, they’re an alien. DRINKING: Listen, seriously, what the hell? I’M ABOUT TO: Idk. Take a nap, maybe? LISTENING TO: Nothing, I feel no compulsion to surround myself with noise at all hours of the day and night. WANT KIDS: Fuck no. Not ever. GET MARRIED: Sure, if I find someone I like and who can, at least, tolerate me. CAREER: Ideally. WHICH IS BETTER: LIPS OR EYES: For what? Lips are good for kissing and sucking and integral in speaking, which help with things like “I love you,” eyes are good for looking and part of communication. Really. How do you pick? HUGS OR KISSES: Hm. Toughie. Idk. SHORTER OR TALLER: I like my men taller and my women my height. As I’m mainly interested in women… OLDER OR YOUNGER: My age. ROMANTIC OR SPONTANEOUS?: Uh. I’m not a fan of spontaneous, really, I don’t like shit sprung on me. But I’m too awkward to pull romantic off, I usually stick my foot in my mouth about a minute in. Planned out, at least. SENSITIVE OR LOUD: Yeah, these two really aren’t mutually exclusive. Sensitive doesn’t mean you’re not a screamer 😉

HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: Depends what you’re looking for? I mean, I know sometimes I just want sex, and that’s fine, that’s totally OK. And sometimes I want a relationship. It depends what you want. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: Yeah, hesitant isn’t usually in my wheelhouse. Depends on the situation really. But I’m not a troublemaker, per se. HAVE YOU EVER: KISSED A STRANGER: No. Not really? DRANK HARD LIQUOR: Yeah. A lot of it. I’m a recovering alcoholic, and vodka was my drink of choice. LOST GLASSES/CONTACTS: Nope. If they’re not on my face, they’re on my nightstand. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: I’m open to it. I don’t see anything wrong with being sexual, as long as both parties are clear on what they want. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: I’m honestly not sure. BEEN ARRESTED: No TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: Yes FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: Yes DO YOU BELIEVE: IN YOURSELF: Some of the time. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: Yeah, no. You can feel lust, attraction, whatever, at first sight. But love? The most you can love at first sight is the idea you have built up in your head of that person. You don’t know that person at all when you first meet them, how can you love them? HEAVEN: Yeah, see my rant above about religion. I’m an atheist. No heaven. SANTA CLAUS: … I did not just get asked this. Yes. Of course I believe in Santa Claus. And the Easter Bunny. And the fucking Tooth Fairy, which was always the most imbecilic of the lot, and really just there to see how much we can stretch childhood innocence. Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny at least have some kind of sense for a child, but now we’re trying to convince them there’s a goddamn fairy who’d rather have a tooth than money? Who the fuck came up with this? Are we just outright saying children are fucking dumb little shits who’ll believe any fool thing we tell them? Because, yeah, of course most of them do, their parents, who they trust unconditionally, are telling them these things, and telling them about the Tooth Fairy – and Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, by the way – is an exploitation of that trust, and of childhood innocence. We do it because it’s cute that little kids fervently believe in a magical man who brings presents, instead of the truth, which is that their parents love them, and that because they love them, this one day, they are given gifts, out of that love, and on a holiday that had become about familial love. How is that not a better story? Why does some magical shit need to get involved? And the contortions people put themselves through to keep Santa alive for their children, it’s absurd! (Also, don’t tell me Christmas is not about familial love, because it absolutely is – yes, it’s a religious holiday too, but I think Jesus would approve of it being about love, given his beliefs).

Ugh. Santa Claus. Fucking hell.

[wild3flow3r]

0500: You’re Too Close For Comfort

It was one of those days where it felt like absolutely nothing could go wrong. Those days only come once every other week. They are also known as Harper’s day off of work. The day where she can just lay in bed all day with Felix and eat nothing but junk food and yell at the people on some crappy reality television show. Those days are perfect.

So the morning started out just as it usually does. It’s around noon when Harper finally wakes up with Felix curled up around her head. It was wonderful, that is until her phone rang five minutes later.

“What?” Harper snaps, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

“Harper?” Nicholas’ timid voice rings out from the other side of the phone.

“Sorry, Nicholas, I thought you were someone else.” Harper’s voice immediately becomes softer, “How are you doing?”

“I um… I’m good. Sorry I haven’t called you since we had that dinner, but I’ve been busy with school and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it, Nicholas. It was only a week and a half ago. I expected not to hear from you for another week,” Harper tries to laugh it off. She would never admit to him how much it was hurting her that he chose not to talk to her.

“I actually have a favor to ask. You aren’t at work, are you?”

“I have the day off today. What’s up, little brother?”

“I have to do this project for the Psychology class I was telling you about. We have to make a family tree and describe any mental health problems our family might have had. I’ve tried to call Rachel and Peter, but they must be on another vacation or something because they aren’t answering. And you always seem to know a lot about our birth family.”

“I’d have to do a bit of research first before I could help you,” Harper replies, a seed of nervousness planted deep in the pit of her stomach. “I might have to go up to Scotland one weekend to the house for any official documents.”

“Well, we could start off with Mom and Dad for now. I wanted to know if we could meet today so that I can just start jotting some notes down.”

“Yeah… Okay sure. I’ll meet you at Hyde Park, say in about an hour?”

“I’ll see you in an hour and a half then,” Nicholas chuckles before hanging up the phone.

“Shit.”

***

“My big sister, oh how I’ve missed you,” Nicholas laughs as he wraps his arms tightly around Harper’s waist.

“It’s been way too long,” Harper hums as she hugs him back.

“I’ve got you something,” he grins as he hands her a small brown bag.

“You’re an angel,” Harper gushes as she smells the chocolaty goodness inside of the bag. “You’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.”

“That doesn’t mean that you aren’t my favorite,” she says as she pinches his cheek.

“Well, come on and sit down.” He leads her to a bench where his bookbag is residing. “We’ve a lot to talk about.”

“Yes we do,” Harper agrees with a tight smile. “When is this project due?”

“At the end of the semester, right before Christmas.”

“Alright, so I’ll just give you some of the basics today. We can go more in depth after I’ve collected the documents.”

“Alright,” Nicholas nods his head, “we’ll start with mum first.”

“Well, her name is Belle Hastings, obviously.” Harper watches as he writes her name down in his notebook. “Where should I start from?” She opens the brown paper bag.

“The beginning.”

“Well, she was born March twenty-sixth, 1971. I don’t remember her parents names, but if I remember correctly, she has a sister. Again you’ll have to wait until I go to Scotland for her family information.”

“We should go up together. I haven’t visited the house for a couple of months now,” Nicholas muses as he scribbles some things down on the paper.

“Definitely. Anyways, she was a good student. She always got good grades, just like someone else I know,” Harper coos as she pats his knee a couple of times.

“How old was she when she met Dad?”

“When she was sixteen or seventeen. He’s five years older than her so apparently their relationship didn’t bode well with her parents. Should I start talking about Dad now?”

“Yeah, let’s talk about the mystery man now.”

“Well, you know his name is Alexander Williams. I don’t know the exact date, but he was born in 1966. He dropped out of high school before he could graduate, so instead he joined the army. He married Mom as soon as she graduated the high school. I’ve been told that she traveled around with him for wherever he was stationed at the time. They only permanently settled in London once she found out she was pregnant with me.”

“What was it that drove her to depression?”

“It was his death. She didn’t even know she was pregnant with you yet when his commanding officer told her. It wasn’t immediate depression either. She was upset by it, of course, but she kept on pushing those thoughts away. It was months and months of pent up frustration and sadness. She also gave up her friends and family to be with him, so all she had was me and I was only two at the time. She was lonely and at some point it just became too much.”

“So she gave you up?”

“Yeah.” Harper looks down to the ground, a frown playing along her lips. “Peter and Rachel adopted me almost as soon as Mom gave me up. They kept in contact so that they could also adopt you once you were born. It was actually Peter and Rachel who recommended a psychiatric hospital to her. She’s been in there ever since.”

“So that’s when she was diagnosed with bipolar depression?”

“Yeah, it started right before she gave me up. Something inside of her just… snapped, and it couldn’t be fixed.”

“Could she leave the hospital if she wanted to?”

“No, not unless someone signs her out with the promise to take care of her. Even then it would be a whole extensive process with loads of paperwork and a home visit before she'd be let out.”

“Alright let’s talk about you, now. Do you think I should add your eidetic memory to my notes?” Nicholas smiles teasingly as he glances over to his sister.

Harper rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I’m pretty sure it has something to do with psychology. Plus, it’s fucking awesome.”

“There’s nothing special about it.” “You can remember almost everything you’ve ever said, done, or read since you were the tender age of two. I’d say that it’s pretty special.”

“It’s also pretty much a curse. I can remember every cringe-worthy moment.”

Nicholas laughs loudly. “We’ll talk about it another time then.” He closes his notebook. “Do you want to get some coffee? I’m dying for a Starbucks frappuccino.”

“Mmm yes! You’re such a genius.” Harper presses her lips against the top of his head as she crumples up the now empty brown bag, “Let’s go.”

***

Today might not have gone as planned, but Harper still thought that it was going pretty perfect. It only got better when Clover met up with Harper and Nicholas at Starbucks during her break from work. Having her two most favorite people in the entire world with her at the same time was the key to her happiness.

“I don’t know why you won’t let me set you up on a date, Harper. I swear this man is perfect for you,” Clover whines as she glares at Harper.

“I wouldn’t even bother trying, Clover. Harper scares almost every boy she’s ever met. Most of my friends can’t stand being in the same room as her for more than five minutes,” Nicholas teases.

“It’s not my fault that they feel like I threaten their masculinity. Tell them to grow a pair and stop acting so damn fragile.”

“Ah, well I would but you already have. Every time you see them.”

“And obviously they haven’t taken my advice yet because they still feel like I threaten something they don’t even have.”

“Guys, can we please get back on topic?” Clover waves her hands frantically to grab their attention. “The bottom line is that you believe that your free time should be spent eating things that will clog your arteries while having staring contests with Felix.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so good at it! I’ll beat him one day, I swear it!”

She rolls her eyes. “I know that you’re more lonely then you let on Harper. Besides, it’s just one date. If you don’t like the guy then you never have to see him again.”

Harper’s bottom lips juts out into a pout and she crosses her arms over her chest stubbornly. She wasn’t going to do this if she didn’t get anything in return. “Fine, but then you have to let me set you up on a date with someone.”

Clover glares at her accusingly. “Who are you going to set me up with Harper?”

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see,” Harper smirks.

“Fine, deal.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about something-” Harper falters as someone stomps through the entrance, “oh shit.”

“What?” Nicholas chuckles, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”

Clover turns around in her seat to follow Harper’s train of sight. She can’t help her own laugh that falls past her lips.

“What is it? What am I missing?” Nicholas demands as he pokes his sister's side. “Who is he?” He’d obviously caught on to the man they were staring at.

Harper’s jaw had dropped at the sight of him. She has barely seen him since the night she arrested that man three days ago. Apparently he was suspended for a week by Claudette for not following protocol. His black t-shirt was soaked with sweat and his gym shorts hung low on his hips. He was even wearing a headband, one that he probably used often when his hair was long but now it had no use with it all chopped off.

“That’s the boy Harper thinks has a nice arse when he wears his tight jeans.” Clover raises a mocking eyebrow in her direction. “I’m guessing she finds it pleasing in those shorts as well.”

“Clover!” Harper gasps, her cheeks turning a bright red. “You shut your mouth. I don’t… It’s not…”

“You know him?” Nicholas’ amusement lighted along his features.

“She works with him. They work under the same division in the electronics company.”

“Well, what’s his name?” “Why do you need to know his name?” Harper frowns and narrows her eyes at her brother.

“Harry,” Clover replies.

“Nicholas, you better not do what I think you’re about to do. I swear-”

“Oh, Harry,” Nicholas calls out over the noise of the surrounding tables. He lets out small screech of pain after Harper digs her nails into his side.

Harry’s head turns around in confusion at his name. His head cocks to the side as he spots Nicholas, but his normal cocky look dances along his features once he realizes that it’s Harper sitting next to him. He holds his finger up to let them know that he’ll be with them in just a moment and pays for the water he just ordered.

“I’m going to kill you,” Harper mutters to Nicholas just before Harry reaches their table.

“Hello, Harper,” Harry greets as he towers over the table. “Funny running into you here.”

“It’s a local Starbucks. If I’m being honest, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

“Okay,” Harry rolls his eyes. “It’s Clover, right?” He asks as he turns toward the other redhead, “We’ve met briefly before, but Niall’s mentioned you a couple of times.”

“He has?” Clover squeaks as she looks up to Harry in wonder.

“Mhmm. Says he knows something cool about you, but he’s sworn to keep it a secret. He’s a right prat, that one. And I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you yet.” He turns towards Nicholas.

“My name is Nicholas Hastings,” he sends a wink in Harper’s direction while he shakes Harry’s hand.

“Hastings?”

“Aw now, don’t tell me that my beautiful big sister has forgotten to mention her wonderful brother.”

“It never came up,” Harry murmurs in response.

“It didn’t have to. Harry and I aren’t exactly friends,” Harper growls through clenched teeth. “He’s more of a pest.”

“I don’t know why she always insists on talking to her boss this way,” Harry’s lips tip up into a smirk.

“You are not my boss. We have the same exact job.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“And is that why I got a raise a few days ago and you didn’t?”

“Wow, I didn’t know an electronics company was something to be some competitive about,” Nicholas laughs and drapes his arm over the back of Harper’s chair. “If the money’s good, I might just join it myself.”

“Trust me, Nicholas, it’s probably a job you wouldn’t want. Working with your sister would probably drive you mental.”

“Well, I don’t know. We’ve been working pretty well for the last nineteen years, haven’t we?”He nudges his shoulder against Harper’s. “We’re the dream team, baby brother. Nobody would ever dare mess with us.”

“Well, if you don’t mind I actually have to talk to Harper for a moment about work. I was hoping to steal her away for a few moments,” Harry requests with an expectant look.

Before Harper could tell him to fuck off, Nicholas beat her to a response. “I don’t mind at all. I’ll just tease Clover about this Niall character in the meantime.”

Harry flicks his head to another part of the cafe where it’s more private. With a quiet huff, Harper stomps away from her brother and best friend. She glares up at Harry as she leans against a wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

“What do you need?” She demands with a frown on her face.

“Have you talked to the man we caught yet?”

“You mean the man I caught?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Well, have you talked to him or not?”

“I don’t see why this is any of your business because Claudette has given this case to me, and me only, but if you must know, no I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he isn’t out of the infirmary yet. He claims he still needs to be treated for some nonexistent injuries. They’re just appeasing him now so that he’ll be more inclined to cooperate with us when I do question him.”

Someone walks past Harry, and with the limited room available Harry has to lean into Harper so that he isn’t in the way. He has to lean his arms on both sides of her head so that he doesn’t fall right into her. Harper can even feel his legs bang into her own. Harry makes no move to leave the position as more people seem to want to walk this way.

“When do you think he’ll be ready for questioning?” His breath hits the side of her face.

“Tomorrow, hopefully. It may be another couple of days though. It’s a big case and nobody wants to screw it up. If it means playing nice with a man who possibly holds some serious information then the agency is willing to do it.”

“You could wait until my suspension is over. I can-”

“You are not stealing this from me, Harry. I got this case fair and square.” Harper places a hand on his chest to push him off of her. His hovering figure made her hot in more than one way.

“Right, but you’re new at this Harper. You could use some help.”

“Well, then I’ll ask for help when I need it, but I don’t need it right now.” She slips out from under him. “And I know why you really want this case, Harry. You still have this obsession with the Wildes ever since your Alexia lead all of those years ago, and I won’t feed your obsession.”

“I don’t have an obsession, Harper-”

“Then stop asking,” she cuts him off. “I’ll talk to you in a few days after your suspension.”

“But, Harper-”

“Goodbye, Harry.” She leaves him without another word. She presumes he leaves when he doesn’t follow her.

“Is everything okay?” Nicholas asks when she makes a reappearance at the table.

“Everything is perfect,” she coos and ruffles his hair.

***

“Good morning, Claudette,” Harper greets as soon as she enters her office. It was the last day before Harry was allowed back to work, and Harper was relishing the time she had left. Without his presence, Harper finally had a chance to get to know the rest of her team members better, and believe it or not, they had grown a bit closer.

“Good morning, Harper,” Claudette responds with a small smile. “I have some good news for you today.” She had sent out for Harper as soon as Harper had clocked in for work.

“I’m hoping it’s about our little friend.”

“It is, actually. He’s finally agreed to talk to us. He still seems quite frightened, but he was compliant when we brought him to the interrogation room. Hopefully you can get something out of him. All we’ve been able to get so far is that his name is Mark Morales.”

“I’ll try my best,” Harper nods as she turns to leave. “Is there anything else?”

“Just a good luck, my dear. With this man, I know you’ll probably need it.”

***

“Hello, Mr. Morales. I’m Harper Hastings. We had the pleasure of meeting the other night,” Harper greets the man sitting down across from her. She almost sticks her hand out to shake his, but then she notices his hands chained to the table.

“You’re the bitch who arrested me,” Mark spat and tugs on the chains uselessly. “What do you want?”

“I just want to ask you a couple of questions,” Harper states innocently with a bat of her eyes.

“Well, I’m not going to answer them. I’d rather not die, thanks.”

“Well, why would you die, Mark?” She cocks her head to the side.

“Adam Wilde would kill me, of course. Either him or his daughter.”

“But that’s the problem, Mark. Adam and Alexia Wilde, they’re dead. They died nineteen years ago.”

Mark’s eyes squint in confusion and it takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts. “No. No, I saw Adam yesterday.”

“What year is it, Mark?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. What’s it matter?” Marks barks defensively and leans back as far away as he can from Harper.

“So you saw Adam yesterday? What about Alexia? When was the last time you saw her?” Harper asks instead of answering his question.

“Yeah, I saw him yesterday. We had a long talk. I haven’t seen Alexia since she was a little girl, but Adam shows me pictures every once in awhile. He has a picture of her from when she was fifteen or so. It’s on his desk.”

“What did you and Adam talk about?” Harper leans in closer, resting her elbows on the table and her head on her hands.

“I… I can’t say. He’d kill me. We might be best mates, but he’d kill me,” Mark shakes his head repeatedly.

“You’re best mates with Adam Wilde?” She raises an eyebrow. Harper is still trying to figure out whether or not the information he’s giving her is truthful. He doesn’t know what the year is so that makes his story look bad, but he also looks legitimately scared that Adam Wilde might kill him.

“Hell yeah. We went to school together. Even our fathers were best mates. We always assumed our sons would be as well, but then that wife of his gave him a daughter. He was pissed as hell. The only thing that kept him from killing his family was that I promised she could marry my son once they were eighteen. I was that little girl’s godfather.”

“But Adam Wilde killed his wife and daughter,” Harper states bluntly. “They’re dead, Mark.”

Mark shakes his head. “No. She’s not. He might’ve gone and killed his old lady, but never his daughter. She’s the heir to his gang, and he wouldn’t risk getting another woman pregnant if there was a chance that the child would be another girl. But he didn’t kill his wife. I know he didn’t kill his wife.”

“But how do you know that he didn’t kill her? Does he show you pictures of her too?”

“No, but what I’m saying is that he didn’t kill her. He wouldn’t lie about killing her or anybody for that matter. He’s told me that it wasn’t him. He isn’t the reason why she’s dead.”

“Mark, how do I know that anything you’re saying is the truth? For all I know you could be making this all up as we go.”

“I’m telling the truth!”

“But I can’t believe it without proof. Now we can either go back and forth all day on Adam and Alexia all day, or we can talk about the charges you’re facing.”

“Charges? I didn’t do anything!” He slams his hands down on the table. Harper doesn’t even flinch.

“You broke into the Bank of London and you shot an agent. That’s up to fifteen years in jail.”

“But I was told to do it! I didn’t want to be there, but Adam told me to break in.”

“I’m sorry, Mark, but I can’t believe anything you’re saying without proof. You have to give me something to work off of or I’m sending you to be locked up until your trial.”

“But I-”

“I don’t have time for excuses, Mark,” Harper sighs as she stands up. “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” she nods in departure before turning towards the door.

“Wait!” Mark calls out just as Harper’s hand touches the door handle. “I’ll tell you something, but you have to make sure Adam doesn’t kill me.”

“Do you really think he would kill you?”

“I know he would. His daughter killed my son,” Mark murmurs, his eyes drifting down to his hands.

“What?”

“I was telling the truth before. I’ve never seen Alexia in person since she was a little girl, but Adam swore she was alive. And then my son said he’d met her. He told me that they were dating and that things were getting serious. They dated for about a year before he was found dead.”

“Well how do you know that it was Alexia? The real Alexia?”

“It was her mark on the wall where his body was found.”

“The A.W.?”

“Yeah. Adam had told me that he’d been trying to train her. Killing my son, her boyfriend, must have been the first step. But she had strayed away from her father. She’d been robbing those banks and hell did she do a beautiful job with that. I guess her father eventually got to her though.”

“Why are you telling me this if you think Adam would kill you?”

“I’m not like Adam anymore. I used to be when I was younger, but I’m older now, I’m tired, and I lost my son. Do you know what happens to you when you lose a child? The pain is unimaginable. I don’t want to be a part of the gang anymore, and the only way to get out of it other than dying is to get Adam arrested.”

“So you’ll help me catch him? If he really is alive, that is.”

“He is alive. I’ll help you.”

“I’ll postpone your trial until further notice. You’ll have your own cell while you’re locked up here. I’ll come back to visit you in a few days.”

“You won’t regret this.”

“I better not.”

-----

A/N:  Hi everyone! Sorry that it's been almost a month since I last updated, but here is chapter 5!! I hope everyone likes it!! Anyways please please leave a review! The more I get the faster I'll write (and I promise the next chapter will be out sooner that it took for this one to come out!!)! Anyways yes please leave your thoughts down below because I love reading them and it helps me know if people actually enjoy reading my story!!! :)

[pronetopronoia]

UGH, MONDAY AGAIN ALREADY?!

Hope everyone had a nice, long, enjoyable weekend! It’s the Tuesday back to work after an extended weekend for a lot of folks so that makes it...

SUPER MONDAY (the word “super” being used sarcastically in this instance).

Here’s two characters that have absolutely nothing to do with me having a conversation in their cubicles after coming back to work much like all of us are doing today:

INT. MODERN, BUSTLING OFFICE

RANDOM ANNOYING COWORKER and LAUREL sit talking in their adjacent-facing cubicles amongst a farm of people and noise.

R.A.C. “Hey bitch, how was your weekend?”

LAUREL “Uh, not right now, OK? Let me have some coffee first, I kind of have a headache.”

R.A.C. “LOL, you? A headache? You’re indestructible. What is it? Are you hungover? You’re totally hungover, aren’t you?”

LAUREL “No for real. I like get migraines and stuff.” R.A.C. “Really? I’m sorry do you like want some Tylenol or something?”

LAUREL “No, I’ll be fine.”

The two turn back to their work and sweet, sweet silence is achieved for about 15 minutes.

Suddenly RANDOM ANNOYING COWORKER swivels back around...

R.A.C. “Gosh, you really don’t seem like yourself today, are you sure you’re OK?”

LAUREL “Oh yeah, actually I’m doing just fine, just busy. It’s our Monday after all, haha.”

R.A.C. “How’s your head?”

LAUREL “Oh yeah, that. Oh just fine.”

R.A.C. “Oh man, I can tell in your voice that it is NOT fine. You know, you can go home if you need to, like hello?! Let me find my Tylenol...”

LAUREL uncomfortably sighs.

LAUREL “No, really, I’m cool. Thanks. If I was really in horrible pain I would take something and/or leave.”

R.A.C. “Yeah. but why suffer at all, ya know?”

LAUREL signs again, then launches into a soliloquy that has been a long time coming even though it is none of R.A.C.’s goddamn business.

LAUREL “Alright, look. I have a migraine disorder. It actually runs in my family but some of my family members experience it in different ways. I am not trying to minimize anyone’s symptoms or experiences in sharing mine or expressing my frustrations in this frank discussion of which I am having with you right now in a deadpan manner in the hopes that you will be offended just enough as to maybe leave me alone the rest of the day. So, back to the headache disorder, it’s a pretty severe one but at this point my pain tolerance is so high, you would not believe it. Also, sometimes just working and doing my regular shit through the pain is completely preferable to like going somewhere and laying in silence through the pain. Can medication help it at some times, yeah. Do I want to take a ton of medication all the time? Yeah, no thank you. Do I know how to either lesson the frequency and severity with lifestyle modifications? Yep, I’ve been doing this for years. Do I sometimes have other symptoms besides just headache pain. Yep, I deal with that. Did I think it was a brain tumor and/or severe mental illness at different points throughout my life? I sure did, I literally just am now realizing the issues. Believe it or not, I even took some serious, heavy-duty medication for one of those concerns at one point and it fucked up my life tremendously for a number of years and directly led to the development of another fucking ailment that I now have to deal with but I can’t absolutely prove without a doubt that the second issue was from the medication alone so I have no way to sue the drug company. So, as you can imagine, I am both a bit annoyed and frustrated when someone shows a bit too much concern in my direction and then also is insistent on giving me medication in the workplace and/or in my personal life. I actually found a medication, which is none of your business, that seems to work the best at treating this so far. If and when I am truly in absolute agony, which is quite few and far between, I will very politely let you know, I will accept your help if offered as a medication I am willing to take, and excuse myself because that is just how I am. Again, not minimizing anyone else’s experience, not trying to insult you in any way, not trying to really have any affect on literally anything or anyone else. Also, do I have any desire to be the spokesperson for this issue or any other issue? I do not. I’d just kindly wish, just to the sweet, sweet, sweet, merciful lord in heaven above if you’d kindly stay out of my personal affairs even though I am voluntarily just divulging so much unnecessary personal information in an effort to get you to leave me alone.”

RANDOM ANNOYING COWORKER stares shocked at LAUREL, blinking several times.

R.A.C. “Uh... OK. Wow. Um, nice attitude there Laurel. You know, it’s real cool of you to be so sarcastic when someone is showing you actual concern. I mean jesus fucking christ, it is really necessary for you to be so rude? I’m just making small talk and asking how I can help. No wonder you are single, jesus christ!”

LAUREL “Sorry.”

R.A.C. “Yeah, honestly, thank you. That’s the least you could say, really! I mean do you even realize how you sound sometimes when you talk to people?! God, I mean I was really having a great day and now you really have made me feel small, do you realize that? I mean, god! Like, I feel so belittled right now it is unbelievable!”

LAUREL “I apologize again, that must be really hard for you.”

R.A.C. “Yeah, actually it really, really is. Like, you yelling at me like this, it is like bringing back memories of my father. God, you know what, we all have problems, OK?! We ALL have things we are going through. It’s not just you and your stupid headaches, OK?! God! You are really self-centered, Laurel. Seriously. I don’t know how you are able to hit your quota every month with no issues whatsoever because you really need to learn how to talk to people, do you know that?! I mean God, do you have any compassion and do you ever even take onto account another person’s feelings, like ever?”

LAUREL “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

R.A.C.  “Yeah you should be! You should be! God! Ok, WHATEVER. I’ll leave you and your stupid headache alone. Have a great rest of the day!”

RANDOM ANNOYING COWORKER swivels around in her chair and starts furiously emailing a few of the other staff about what a fucking bitch LAUREL is being today, like, for no reason out of the blue, she is obviously bipolar. 

CUT TO BLACK

THE END