Goddammit! Why the hell couldn't they just leave him alone?! All he fucking wanted was to sit here and be a miserable piece of shit! If they really wanted to help, they would just leave him be! 

Isaiah gave the girl a mean glare, his fists tightening as she came in to demand that he move his ass. He was itching to tell her to shut her mouth before he shut it for her, but thought better of it. His head was beginning to pound like a rapid gorilla in a cage, and he was in no mood to socialize. Part of that was probably due to not eating for almost two days now.

He grumbled quietly as he got up and slunk out to the living room. He plopped down on the couch, looking very much like a big, angry child with a pout on his face. 

~~

Allie watched Isaiah stand and slump off. She scowled after him in annoyance then stripped his bedding herself. With a thump, she stalked from the side room and through the living room with his sheets in her arms to the side hall and further on to the laundry. After putting things in the washer and letting the lid close with a bang, she walked back into the living room where Isaiah sat huffily. 

She gave a small sigh, then sat down in the large chair across the room. She drew up her legs and tucked her knees up against her sides. Holding onto her ankles, she looked younger than she really was. Her dark eyes were serious and calm. 

Not talking, she merely watched him. Her curiosity was plain enough but she did not ask a single question. Rather she breathed in slow and steadily and very obviously watched his every move, as if she were cataloging him. Arm movements, slot A. Head tilts, slot C. All leg jitters boxed up in the F envelope. 

He wasn't much of a talker and she didn't seem one either. Garin had closed the bedroom door behind himself, Spence was distinctly missing from the brownstone. Allie was it. She and this lurching man who might as well have been glowering on the floor of his from as well as on the chair in the living room. Still, he was there. That would do for the moment. One couldn't expect too much at first. Obviously. 

~~

Isaiah didn't relax. He was tense, nervous, irritable, and felt like shit all at the same time. He would glance over at the girl staring at him every one and while, getting more irritated by the moment. What the hell was she looking at? His shoulders were kept high, his leg bouncing on his foot, fingers picking at his pants. He wasn't really sure what to think of his newfound freedom. They claimed he could leave any time he wanted; but they could just be lying to him. Even if it were true, he had nowhere to go. Isaiah was incapable of surviving on his own.

His father did everything for him: bought him food, clothes, paid the bills, kept him drugged up, and made sure he didn't get away. As they moved from place to place, he was usually kept in the basement, or some room where he couldn't bust the door down or climb out a window. If no such room was available, it wasn't uncommon for them to tie him to the wall like a dog. His life consisted of sitting in that room, waiting to another dose, something to eat, or to be dragged off to another fight. 

Fights were pretty simple; there were only two rules. 1: Fists only. 2: You don't win until the opponent is unconscious. Isaiah would be shoved into a ring with another guy, only two options to consider: attack first or be attacked. Attacking first was usually the better option. He won most of his fights, but the ones he lost were brutal. His father would never take him to a hospital; instead, he'd get fixed up by a crooked doctor friend. That was basically his life since he was 12; one big, vicious circle. 

Izzy began to quiver in his seat on the couch. His stomach gave an angry growl, but he was afraid to eat. What if he just threw it all up again? 

~~

Uncertain of exactly how much time they spent, Allie bored eventually of thinking about someone who wasn't doing anything, and instead stood to do her usual. In this case, she'd made breakfast, cleaned up, and cleaned bedding. When the washer went off, she wandered into the back, changed out the bedding, and returned with a book under her arm. 

Time would go slow, but in reality, it wasn't the same charged slow that she'd had to endure when the druggie had been her family. Now, it was just some guy her friend had pulled out of a park. Granted, there was plenty of unknown. The guy obviously didn't ask for anything, got grumpy when they gave him stuff, and basically didn't want to be bothered. But he also hadn't left. 

Which was pretty damn curious, because... well, just because. 

A chapter in, Allie fetched a mug of soda and set down a cup of juice beside him. She gave him little to no eye contact as she went back to the loveseat and settled with her book to her chest and her soda at her elbow. 

It was strange, how easily their guest faded into the silence. She had almost forgotten him when Garin stumbled out and mumbled, “Lo, Allie.. Izzy...” and stumbled toward the kitchen. Allie glanced at the man who was as solid stone as anyone could be when coming down from a high. Still, the shock made her shift and look at the clock. It was with relief she realized it hadn't been more than an hour and Garin was probably just having trouble sleeping, as was his wont. As the bleary man re-entered the room with his own mug of water, she took a look at him. 

No – not even enough sleep and definitely worried, the way he turned his head and looked Isaiah over. 

“You want something to cuddle with?” she teased grimly. 

“Not til Spence's back,” Garin mumbled and then took a half step toward the interloper. “You kay?” 

~~

Isaiah just about jumped from his skin when Garin spoke. He whipped his head around to look at the man, his eyes wild. His body was shaking, hands fidgeting. He watched Garin like a hawk as he moved in front of the couch he was perched on; the intensity of his stare was rather unnerving. Izzy seemed agitated simply by the fact that there was someone else in the room, making noise and trying to talk to him.

"No," He grunted when asked if he was okay. Of course he wasn't okay. Did he fucking look okay? Maybe they should ask him again after he got his hands on that goddamn cough syrup. 

He was tired; very tired. Izzy would have given anything to just sleep this whole thing out, but he couldn't even sit still for a few minutes, let alone rest. He wished he could go back in his little room and hide. He wished his body would stop hurting. He wished this could all be someone else; not him. Why did bad things always have to happen to him? 

~~

Garin flushed slightly at the short answer. Even half awake, he could hear the derision in the man's voice. “Yeah,” he said, unsure what else he could have said or what he could say even then. He glanced at Allie and she shook her head. There obviously was nothing they could do? 

“What about.. umm.. like Tylenol or something?” he asked no one in particular. 

Allie answered him, however. “It isn't a flu, Gar,” she said softly. 

“But it doesn't look very comfortable. I mean, water and.. well, food, and then, it said we were supposed to invite you to do things to get your mind off of it. But I guess I'm not sure just what to do. You.. you know, you look like you'd...” 

He looked like he'd rather have had them leave him where he'd been found. Garin wasn't all too sure he wanted to say that aloud, however, because it wasn't in keeping with his world view where everyone wanted to get better. 

“If.. uh, if you want something, you just hafta ask, okay?” he said finally, bleary and uncertain about the entire process. Allie, at least, looked like normal. The rest of his living room felt oddly off with the darkness of that man in it. Garin's space generally was the restful one, not the one where others came to exude Pissed Off. 

~~

'It said'? Where they going off some kind of 'how to cure a drug addict' guide? Did those things even exist? It should be noted that Izzy's knowledge of the internet, TV, and even books was limited at best. He knew they existed, but he'd never dealt with them personally. He barely had a seventh grade education. Izzy nestled back down with his chin hidden by his knees. He felt uncomfortable; like everyone in the room was staring at him. His head pounded, and irritating and frustration melted away to sorrow. His mood swung again, this time for a self pity-party once more.

It was about that time that he gained the courage to ask for something to eat. He hadn't asked for a single thing so far, as if doing so would make them angry. It usually made his father angry, so why would it not do the same to them? All people were the same, weren't they? His voice went from the sour tone he'd used before to downright timid. 
"Can I have...a sandwich or something?" 

~~

Garin had taken a step back and half turned to move away when the man's low voice slide into hearing. It was uncertain, more than likely because he wasn't all too sure what to do with the sudden appearance of three busybodies in his life, but it was also a welcome change from the gruff correction of his name. Garin's shoulders hitched up in surprise and then relaxed as he turned to give the man a smile. 

“Sandwich?” he reiterated and nodded. “Sure.. I mean, you bet. Anything you want? I got... dang, I got roast beef, the cheap stuff from the store, and cheese, and lettuce and tomatoes, and mayo and mustard, pickles, umm.. and peanut butter and honey and jam. Pretty much anything you want. What sounds good?” 

~~end of document~~