Details

This is going to be collection of drabbles related to Untitled. The story just wouldn't leave me alone so I've been writing down some more detailed scenes. I still regret not being able to save Casey. It's fairly essential that Untitled is read for them to be fully understood.

Instinct

Casey was standing outside the shelter. His arms were wrapped around his body. His coat pulled close for warmth. His hood was pulled over his head. It was raining. It felt like it had been raining for a whole week. It was torrential and he couldn't get warm. The ramshackle warehouse that served as the squat wasn't weatherproof. Most of the windows were smashed, most of the boards had been used for fuel, and the icy wind whipped through constantly, bringing rain with it.

After a long wait in line Casey shuffled inside. He still wasn't much warmer. He would need dry clothes for that. His head wasn't clear. He'd got high in the earlier and now he was coming down. His vision was blurry and unfocused. But when voices were raised in anger and threats were made he stepped in. It had been instinct.

Then all of a sudden he was being manhandled up off the floor, his head spinning in pain. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. The security guard was standing tall above him. The woman at the desk was speaking to him but he couldn't tell what she was saying. The two men who had started the fight, angry not to be getting bed that night, had gone.

"It's Matt, isn't it?" she asked softly. Trying to look him in the eyes. But he kept his head lowered. His hair fell over his face. "Ok, come with me," she urged. She nodded at the security guard to let him go.

She led Casey to the back office and told him to sit down. She took a first aid kit from a drawer. Eventually he sat down. Eyes darting nervously around the small room. Visibly trembling. Head twitching.

She leaned down a little so she wasn't towering over him as he sat on the edge of the cot they kept in there for overnight staff. "Thanks for your help back there. You didn't have to do that, but I really appreciate it."

Casey didn't speak. His head twitched. He scratched at the back of his hand.

"Can I take your coat? We can get it washed and dried in a couple of hours for you. Want me to do that?"

Casey tried to look at her but he couldn't meet her eyes. He was trying to figure out her intentions. He was sure she was trying to help him but he could hardly think. He was coming down. Had been all afternoon. Now he felt his head would explode. His right eye was already swelling shut.

"Here... let me help you take this off..."

Casey grabbed the edge of his sodden coat, shaking his head. So she moved back and he took it off. She began to check the pockets. He stared at her, focusing for the first time. Scared.

"It's all right. I'm not going to take anything from you."

She passed him the contents of his pockets. As she did his CFD badge slipped from its hiding place in the leather bound diary cover. He stared at it on the floor. Fearful. But she simply picked it up and gave it to him without saying anything. He clutched it in his hand.

"I'll go check what clothes we have that will fit you. Then we can get those washed as well," she nodded at his worn apparel. She smiled encouragingly. "How does that sound? Dry clothes, yeah? Then I'll help get you cleaned up."

He was left alone for a short time before she brought him a pile of freshly laundered clothing. She left him again so he could change, then she took his old clothes to be washed along with his coat.

She opened up the first aid kit. Pulled over the desk chair and sat down in front of him. "Ok, let's get you cleaned up... this might sting a bit..."

Casey had winced and flinched throughout, but she had soon managed to clean the blood from his face and place a couple of butterfly adhesive stitches across the cut over his eye.

"How's that? Feel better?"

He nodded. Responding to her for the first time. He was trying hard but still feeling unfocused.

"Good," she beamed.

She passed him a glass of water and got him a sandwich. He wanted to eat. He really did. But he knew he wouldn't hold it down. Not today.

She asked him about the badge that had fallen from his diary. But he just looked away. She didn't seem to mind though. She talked to him. Kept him company. It was nice. It felt almost normal.

When she brought back his clean dry clothes in a large bag he stood up and thanked her. He'd already been there longer than he should have. She'd already helped him way more than he deserved.

The security guard let him out and he left.

He died one month later.