A/N: So, I've been going through it. I never mind sharing that much. I'm old and have been living with untreated mental illness for a long time. I will eventually be fine enough to do day to day things; I always eventually am. I'm not positive what my living situation will be within the next few months. It's possible that I will be in between homes again, and if that's the case, once again; I won't be able to work on fanfiction.
In the meantime, I have been working on original stories, as it takes me different energy to write that than it does this. I have a fictionpress page (it works just like this site, because they're siblings, and I write under the name neshatriumphs. If anybody wants to try to keep up with what's there. The site doesn't let me share my P. account. It blocks out the word . But, I also will be keeping up with that one, under the same name.
NeshaTriumphs or UnshackledMonologues are the two titles or names I tend to use.
I Have to Say Before I Go
Stevie woke up in his bed, with a pillow full of drool, a massive headache and an IV in his wrist. He sighed and reached for his glasses. Whenever he put them on, he barely had a chance to sit up before two orderlies, a nurse, and Dr. McIntosh entered the room. "Glad to have you back with us Mr. Evans," Dr. McIntosh claimed. "You gave the staff and all of your friends quite a scare."
"Did I almost die?" He asked.
"Thankfully, you didn't. But, we weren't able to confirm just what you took and had to induce vomit. That's why you have an IV, and why we must monitor your pill intake more closely from here on out. How are you feeling?"
"Can I see Cheerio?"
Dr. McIntosh looked at Surette, who clarified, "The girlfriend. Robinson kid."
"Ahhh. No. Right now, Mr. Evans, we're going to talk about what happened, monitor you accordingly, and escort you in the meantime." McIntosh said. "Now, I see in your files that you requested to continue sessions with Suzy. I want to try to assess whether or not that will be good for you, as this occurred with you in her care…" Stevie laid back down and took off his glasses. "Do you not feel like talking? How are you feeling? Sick?"
"And tired," Stevie said.
"I'll stay this time," Nurse Penny said.
"In the meantime, I don't want him speaking to anybody until I've had the chance to have this checkup. Especially not the girlfriend. Also, I want to talk to her."
Stevie rolled over as he said, "She can't help nothing. She doesn't know anything." But they didn't respond. Penny took a seat and the others left.
.
Cheerio wrote nervously in her notepad. In trouble? They know nothing. Say not a thing. "Hi, Miss Robinson, or I guess everyone calls you Cheerio. What do you prefer?"
"Obviously, Cheerio, since that's what everyone calls me. Hi, Dr. McIntosh."
"I wanted to talk to you about your friend, Steven. Has he been alright, lately?"
"No. He's never alright. That's why he's here."
"More than usual, or the same?"
Cheerio sat silently for a while, then wondered, "Why are you asking me about this? Isn't it more appropriate to ask the resident in question?"
"I've spoken to him. He's withholding, withdrawn, even. I was hoping that as his friend, you would want to make sure that he gets the best possible care. I can't give it to him if he won't let me. So, I'm trying whatever I can to help him, and I'm hoping that you want to, as well."
She nodded her head, "I understand. Well, yes… It was different. He's been having mood swings. I tried to pretend that it was okay, that it was simply some stress and he would be fine. The night before his birthday, he was really sweet. He was perfect. He treated me like the man of my dreams. Then, whenever it was time for his birthday party, he just kept snapping at everyone, and he made me cry. I cried really hard, too. And, he never showed up to apologize. He always shows up to apologize. If not in the same night, then definitely by the next day. This time, he didn't. I didn't know if it was because he was too far gone into his… Whatever is happening… But, that's what I want to believe."
"Did you see him in line for his medication, when it was time?"
"Yeah. He never misses meds. He's pretty faithful about taking them and often reminds himself that the last time that he was off of them, he killed somebody. He didn't skip any meds, if that's what you're thinking…" McIntosh wrote something down. "What you writing?"
"Notes. And whenever his family visited, was it a good visit?"
"Only his sister visited, so it should have been a good visit, because she's the only one that he ever wants to see, but I think that they talked about something that he didn't like."
"Do family visits affect his mood swings at all?"
She laughed, "Oh yeah! He kinda hates them, but he can't tell them that. He tried to tell him that he didn't care for the visits over the holidays and everyone was so butthurt, he just ended up depressed and promised himself not to ever talk to them about his feelings again."
"So… His family has been having a negative impact on his progress… in your personal opinion?"
"They haven't had a positive one, in my personal opinion. But, I'm also just as crazy as the rest of these people in here, so…"
"Nobody in here is crazy. You all simply need various levels of help. Thank you for assisting me in helping Steven."
.
Stevie's cocktail was reorganized and his visitation privileges adjusted for proactive treatment, which basically meant that he was monitored diligently during medication time, checked to be sure that he hadn't saved or meddled with his own intake, and not allowed visitors until the doctor approved it. This was NOT acceptable for the rest of the Evans family, but they weren't given much choice in the matter, and when they came to the building, were not allowed to speak to Stevie, themselves.
Stacie rushed to the community center, aggravated and ready to fight. She stormed into the building and nearly tripped over Artie's chair. "No pressure… But there is a visible man, in a wheelchair right in front of you," Artie teased. She laughed at herself and for the first time today, got out of her mind a little bit.
"I am SO sorry, Mr. Abrams."
"You know what you should be sorry for? Calling me Mr. Abrams. Like… do I look like somebody's dad?"
"You literally look like someone's dad. Have you seen your sweaters?" She asked.
"OHHHHHHH!" Artie cheered, "OKAY! We're doing this? Because, Girl…"
"Please be gentle," she said, laughing.
"Honestly, I could never think of one shady thing to say about you. Just now, I was about to say, I know you're not coming for me while you're standing there looking like peach sorbet on a hot summer day!"
"Hey, hey! You need to insult me more often. I can live with this kinda negativity," she said, with a wink. They chatted for a few more minutes before Joe appeared with a birthday gift. "WHoa! What is that?" She wondered.
Joe smiled, and extended it to her, "The kids heard that you recently became a full grow- grown up and made you cards and crafts. Sorry that it's in a plastic punch bowl. That seemed "more fancy" to them than one of my recycled bags."
"Truth be told, we couldn't be bothered to go get a gift box. Out here raising everybody's kids," Artie joked. Stacie sniffled, sobbed, then wailed, at the surprise of both men, who simply stared in confusion at her response. Artie offered, "I was just playing. I mean, we really didn't have time, but we thought it would be okay."
"I don't think this is in response to her gift," Joe said quietly to Artie.
They were all seated at one of the crafts tables and she poured her entire heart out. "So, now - in addition to having possibly almost harmed him in some kind of negligent episode, I'm sure, considering what happened last time, now - they won't even let us see him, AND THIS TIME, because he's now a legal adult and one of their wards, THEY'RE responsible for him. The lawyer says that if we don't have any signs of abuse negligence or anything like that, it is up to them, because we're not paying for him to be there. He was ordered there by a judge. And the family is no longer technically responsible for him, because he's 18. Our entire system of care for mentally ill people needs to be challenged."
Joe nodded his head in understanding, "As someone who has spent the bulk of his career working with underprivileged children, I fully agree. In fact, most of our systems need to be challenged. Mental health resources are already hard to qualify in this country, and whenever you add poverty and criminal history…"
Artie sighed. He did not think much of Stevie Evans, at all. He'd only met him briefly before the big crime, but in his mind - that kid was the guy who kidnapped and tried to kill people he knew. Quinn and Artie weren't as close as they had been in high school, but she was a friend, and after that night, she completely ghosted, ran away to find herself, and spent most of her recovery and the trials for her father and his associates so far removed from her friends and loved ones that it was like a completely different Quinn returned. A surprisingly cold Quinn. He said surprisingly, because she always was a little hard, for as long as he had known her. But, this new strength made her constantly reevaluate herself. That could be a good thing, but the way that he saw it, when she left, she was judgmental, but kept everyone safe. When she came back, she was most judgmental towards herself and seemed to be trying to keep them safe from her trauma. That was nice and good and whatever, but he honestly felt like she kept them at arm's length because of what happened to her that night. All of her previous trauma had been shared with her friends and family and mutual foundations were built to support each other. She came back... Lonely. Sure, that wasn't Stevie's fault. But, Artie definitely associated him with that, if not - the PTSD from the night of the kidnapping and bomb threat was enough, as well.
Joe was comforting her, while Artie sat in silence, throwing in something to lighten the mood here and there, until finally deciding on, "Know what you should do? Crack open some of them birthday treats, huh? Don't tell nobody this, but I love laughing at kids drawings. Like… other people be like, Awww how cute, but I be like, This thing got three legs!"
They all started laughing and Stacie wiped her face, "Mr. Abrams, you're so bad! You're the bad dad!"
"He's quite incorrigible," Joe playfully agreed.
After Stacie left, Artie commented, "She's legal, now."
Joe wrinkled his face and confirmed, "Earlier, when I said you were incorrigible, I was joking, but you really have no sense of shame or decency, do you?"
"I just meant… Everybody's been watching her crush on you for like… I mean… Probably not the whole time we've known her, but AT LEAST for the most part of her being a volunteer, here. Come on, Dude. There's no way you're about to convince me that your virgin eyes couldn't see that lovesick puppy dog aura."
"I am telling you that if I had seen anything like that, she still would be… You know… A kid. We work with kids. Every single day. I counsel kids. We mentor them. Take care of them."
"Okay?"
"I can't believe that you see nothing wrong with diving head first into barely legal waters… Artie… You don't look at any of our kids, do you?"
"WHAT? Hell no, Man! Gross. We work with younger kids. She was already like 16 when we met her, which is age of consent in Ohio."
"IF they are less than four years younger than you… She's six years younger than me."
"How do you know that, if you've never thought about it, huh?"
"Because, I surprisingly can do basic math on the spot. We know that she just turned 18 and I know how old I am. It's not a thing that I've ever thought about, and I'm extremely uncomfortable with this conversation."
"Because it'll give you ideas? Fear not. It is now legal to have ideas."
"You are being so gross."
"I'm being gross? How you know that I'm not suggesting treating a good Christian girl to a froyo? Why does it have to be something nasty?"
"I don't know. You tell me. Why would I fret taking a good Christian girl out for froyo? I do that every week with kids from my family's church! You were insinuating things!" They bickered for a while longer. Artie was honestly the only person that Joe bickered with this way. He was the only person to ever stir up these types of conversations. There used to be similar little squabbles with Puck, but after he was gone, Artie and Joe got even closer than before - and they were already like brothers.
If Artie was going through what Stevie was going through, Joe would put on a strong public face, but he would be so hurt on the inside. He decided that he was going to do a better job of checking in with Stacie, to see how he was handling everything. Her earlier breakdown was a clear indication that she hadn't had the chance to properly sort through all of the thoughts and feelings that her brother's current experience was bringing to her. And she was a good kid. She could use some additional support, especially with Sam on the road, Dwight working a lot and Mercedes going through this new shift in lifestyle that Sam's career was making.
She had Tina and Santana, and the Pieces of Mercy ladies, but it was very much possible that they were so busy with their own lives that they maybe didn't particularly note what might be going on in poor Stacie's… "What are you thinking about, so hard?" Artie asked.
Joe shrugged his shoulders, "Being a decent human being."
.
Stevie's new meds schedule had him hyper. Medicinal changes were always weird for him for the first few weeks, but this was probably the best weird that he had gotten. The most boring time, or perhaps, his most anxious time of day, was group. In the young adult wing, group was generally like a lecture, instead of an open chat. It was going to take him a while to get used to that. He had spent the better part of a year (and some change) being encouraged to speak up more, and now he was encouraged to listen and talk only when it was "his turn."
His sex life went through some changes, too. For one thing, he was hornier than usual. The last meds he was on dampened his libido (which he was sure was purposeful, because of all of his sexually charged commentary in therapy). This particular cocktail addressed his recent bouts with the depression, but didn't make him as disinterested in sex. So, he was typically extremely sexual and though Cheerio seemed to want to talk about what happened and how he was feeling, for the most part, he just wanted to drown out his thoughts and feelings in sex. That was probably unhealthy, but he had enough to worry about, knowing that she would probably be gone soon. He already didn't get to see her as much, and whenever she made it to the common room, he had already been waiting on her to finish working out/training and shit for hours… everyday.
They'd make eye contact, wait for the orderlies to do their rounds, then sneak off to his room. Sometimes, he needed for this to happen several times a day. He considered it another form of medication, and if he was gonna be fucked up for the rest of his life anyway, he might as well enjoy every moment of right now.
He pulled out. They didn't have much time to pretend not to be doing this, before an orderly passed by. "It's been a few weeks, now… Do you wanna talk about your graduation party?" She asked, putting her shirt back on.
"No," he said.
"Okay. Wanna talk about your mail?" She found out that Stevie had gotten regular letters from several white supremacy outfits and he hadn't even so much as mentioned it to her - whether it was old friends, new enemies - she couldn't even say, because he hadn't said.
"No," he said, just as easily as the first time. He didn't seem annoyed or angry or really anything. He was pretty apathetic. Apathetic about things that she thought were important.
"Do you want to talk about what happened that night?" She wondered, her voice becoming harder to find and her courage dying with every breath.
"No." He was heading for the door, when she dared one more question.
"Do you care about me, Cornflake?" She held her breath in preparation for the next No, since that seemed to be all that he could muster post coitus tonight; but he stopped, turned around and folded his arms.
"What do you think?" He asked.
"I think that something happened, and I don't know what, but whatever happened, you haven't looked at me the same, since."
"Do you want us to stop doing this?" he asked.
"What? How did we get to that? Is that what YOU want?" Mario passed by and observed them, noticed that they didn't appear to be doing anything wrong, marked it on the spreadsheet and moved along.
Stevie finally said, "Obviously, I don't. But all of this interrogation is kinda making me want to, to be honest."
"Okay. So, what… We just meet up, fuck, never talk to each other and do that over and over again until I'm gone from here?" She asked.
"Doesn't that sound better than us continually pretending like this is going some place and becoming closer friends?"
"No! No, it doesn't sound better! It sounds… Lonely. It feels lonely. I've never wanted anybody the way that I want you. I've never cared for anybody the way that I care for you. And… I've never been lonelier. I spent almost 15 years in a mansion with two affectionately challenged perfectionists, but most of the pressure to be something that I'm not has come from you."
Stevie's eyes welled with tears. "I'm worst than your parents? That is… very hurtful. I'll… leave you alone. If you're gonna feel lonely, you might as well be lonely." He left the room and she sat on the bed and cried. Why? What was he doing this to her? Why was he always doing this to her? She curled up in a ball and fell to sleep, crying. She didn't wake up until she felt someone touching her hair. She jumped up and held her hand over her heart. It was Stevie. "You fell asleep," he said.
"Sorry. I'll go." She climbed out of bed and started to leave, but he caught her hand and pulled her into a hug, holding on tightly to her and crying in her arms. "Stevie…"
"I'm sorry. Please, don't listen to me when I say things like that. If I tell you to go, or that I don't want you or don't need you… That's not me speaking. That's… another me. That's the me that killed somebody. That's the me that does things that there are no explanations for." He was shivering, "Please, please… don't leave me."
"Will you talk to me? Be my friend? Will you treat me like I'm worth what you're suggesting that I am?"
"Yes. Please."
"Okay." She kissed him on the forehead and said, "Tomorrow, we talk. About everything." He nodded his head, desperate to say and do whatever it took to keep her. "Okay," she confirmed and kissed him again.
Whenever she walked out of the room, she saw Bukowski outside of Tesla's door, seemingly arguing with her. He was fussing, quietly and she was clearly upset. Cheerio wondered, "How ya livin,' Tess?" Tesla turned to see her and looked terrified. "Do… You need help with something?"
"Go to your room, before I ban you from this wing," Bukoski said. It was the most harshly that he had ever spoken to her. Even when he threatened her, he wasn't so coarse. It scared her, and even though she was worried about Tesla, she left. Tesla desperately looked at her, watched her go and sniffled. She put her head down and Bukowski raised it with his finger, "Hey… You're still my girl, right?"
"This is wrong," she whispered.
"Maybe. But… The guy has a hold on me, okay? I can't escape him, now." Huge tears dropped from her face to the floor. "I shouldn't have gone to him, I know. But, I did it for you. I did it for us. I didn't want something like that out there. I thought it would help you for us to have it." She wiped her face. "Robinson will be fine. What do you think he's gonna do? Come out of hiding to attack this place and take her just to hurt Evans?" She backed away and retired into her room. "This is for the best, Allie-Ann."
She slid a slip of paper beneath the door and he picked it up. My name is Tesla. He wadded it up and left her door.
Moments later, she opened her door and went to slide a slip of paper underneath Stevie's door, before retreating back to her own room. Stevie opened the door and looked out, but nobody was there. He opened the note. You can only trust Cheerio. Be safe. He frowned. He knew Cheerio's handwriting, and this wasn't it. Besides, she wasn't the pranking type and she was also gone to group sessions. He set it on the nightstand to ask her about it tomorrow.
.
The talk never happened. The next day, whenever he went to the pill line for his meds, Cheerio was in the common room… with Dani and Myron. He wanted to get out of line and go rush over there, but then he'd just have to get back in line and miss whatever would happen, then. So, he waited, took his meds, had them check and recheck that he had actually swallowed and didn't have anything hidden on his person, then rushed into the common room. "Dani!" He cheered. She looked up, and even though her hair was shorter, cut unevenly and now bright red, instead of brown, she looked like same old Dani, just a little worn for the weather.
"Whoa. Hi there, Stranger." He shoved himself between her and Cheerio, and Cheerio frowned, got up and headed for breakfast, with Myron hesitantly following behind her. Of course, they wanted to chat with their friend, but they knew that Stevie had less friends than they did and this was the first time in weeks that he seemed cheerful or excited about anything. Cheerio told herself not to be hurt by that fact, but she didn't listen to herself. Why would she? She was a "crazy person." "That is not gonna go over well," Dani told Stevie.
"They'll be fine. What are you doing here?" He asked. "I thought that they wouldn't let you come visit!"
"Yeah, and even if they did… Do you think I'd be visiting at breakfast time, some random day?"
"Wait… You're… back? What happened? How?"
"There was a problem with my ride, so I didn't make it to my appointment in time enough to get my meds. Whenever I got there, I had to wait, then reschedule. I was early for my next appointment, but I ran out in between the time it took to get the reschedule. So, I was only about a day off on taking them, but I felt like a totally different person and…"
"You didn't want to enlist under their control again."
"I tried to rationalize it. But, once I was off of them, I just couldn't. I couldn't put them into my body. By the time the effects of snatching that chemical dependency away showed themselves, somebody was calling the cops on me. I spent the night in jail, I missed a shift at work. I tried to explain to my boss what happened, and she said that maybe I should see about coming back here and trying to get myself together before actually coming back to work."
"So… You voluntarily came back here?"
"Hell no. I ignored her and came to work, anyway. She explained to me that maybe she wasn't clear - that I didn't have a job anymore and if I didn't leave, she would call the police on me. I didn't want to cause a scene and I had just spent a night in jail and had a court case impending about my public meltdown. So, I tried to very calmly explain to her that with my current problem and my history that would be basically killing me. Well, I was like too excited in my version of calmly speaking and a work buddy called this place, scared that if they didn't, she'd call the cops and I'd just wind up back in jail. Dr. Pepper came down and spoke to the police who were on the scene, and I was in cuffs and crying and shit. She gave me a chance to explain myself to her, then explained it to them vouching for me, but the cops were all like - either you take her, or we'll have to. We haven't even discussed the official whatever it is. I think she's gotta discuss it with the young adult doctor and the director. She says that I might be out in 72 hours, if she can help it, but where am I even gonna go? Back to the halfway house? After I had an episode? To a different one? There's only like 3 and one of them is church related and you know how they can be with lgbt tenants."
"I don't, but…"
"They try to make you sign on for their beliefs instead of helping you. They think their mindset is the help." She shook her head, "I had to be in a place like that, in the beginning. Whenever I first lost it. Really, I hadn't lost it yet. I was just trying to find out who I was and my family was not into that, so they sent me to this place that was going to traumatize the gay out of me, I guess… I didn't have any mental health issues before that place." A tear fell from her eye and Stevie wrapped an arm around her and kissed her on the side of the head. "My family broke me, Stevie. That place broke me, and no matter what I do to try to get better, I keep on ending up in places like this."
"Why didn't you tell me that you were having a tough time?" he asked.
"I mean, the mail takes like a week to come in. I didn't have time, even if it would have occured to me to bother your recovery with my mess."
"I meant on the messages app," he said.
She wrinkled her face, laughed and asked, "Is this some new code we're speaking in because I don't get it."
"The messages! Like we send each other through our accounts," he clarified.
"I have never had any account of any sort in my life. Cheerio was right. The new drugs have you gone."
Stevie pulled away from her and stared at her to see if she was joking. Maybe it was like he initially thought - that she was so messed up that she didn't know what she was doing sometimes. This could easily be fixed though. He had access to the computer until the end of the school year. "Let's look at something," he told her and brought her to the computer. She followed him and he logged on, went to their messages and showed them to her. "This doesn't look familiar to you?"
"It's not familiar to me. I don't have a computer. That isn't me," she chuckled. She tried to scroll up, but wasn't even sure how it worked. "How do I get to the top?" she wondered. He gave her a look. "I have never had a computer! I used them at school a few times. Most of my school work has been out of textbooks!" He scrolled up and she shook her head, "Yeah, this is somebody else, playing like me."
"That's not possible," He said.
"How you gonna tell me? It IS possible. You just showed me this to prove that it was me and I'M telling you that it isn't!"
"Yeah, but… Maybe you're sick and don't remember?"
"What? I don't hallucinate or lose time, Stevie. As a matter of fact… One of us does, but it isn't me."
"Wow."
"I'm sorry, Man. But, you're trying to make me out to have symptoms that I don't have because somebody tricked you on the computer. I don't know what else to tell you if you can't just take my word and believe that it wasn't me." She shook her head, "I'm sorry that it happened. I hope they haven't said or done anything to embarrass me."
"No, but I have poured my heart out to this person. This person knows every single thing that I would have shared with you, if you had been here… for months, Dani!"
She nodded. "That's super unsettling. I'm so sorry. I wish I could help. Can I read this conversation, to just… Get all that information into my head. I've been wondering how you've been." She smiled, sadly. "I wanted to reach out, but I didn't know what to say…"
"But… they told me about the pissing incident! They KNEW things! They knew about conversations that we've had and they knew about inside jokes that we use!"
"Then… They were here with us. I would say that it's somebody that you crossed in here that's now out there, but… That could be literally anybody." He glared at her. "You cross everybody! Myron told me this morning that you hated Derek. Derek? Everybody loved Derek, and you even crossed him."
"Do you think it was him?" He asked. "No, that doesn't make sense. He was in here in at least part of the time that I was speaking to this catfish… Maybe it's somebody's friend on the outside. I got a note last night…" He pulled it from his pocket and showed it to her, interrupting her bringing herself up to speed through the messages. "I thought maybe it was a prank, but maybe it was because somebody here knows that somebody is out to get me."
"Okay, but this note would indicate that nobody can be trusted, so I would include whoever wrote it," She said, and continued to read. "That's really bizarre timing, though. That somebody would give you that on the night that I came back, then you'd find out that there was a fake me on the internet talking to you. Like… You think that they're talking about me? You think that they're trying to make you not trust me? Maybe it was whoever is responsible for fake me!" She said. "We need to work on a horror movie script about this. And we gotta make it snappy if I'm gonna be out of here in 72 hours. OOOOOO - The movie can be called 72 Hours. Two psychiatric patients' friendships are tested in this thrilling tale of who done it? But, can they determine between what is real and what is in their minds?"
"You need to work on that fucking tagline," Stevie said.
"Was trying to lighten things up."
"I know."
"Did I?"
"No… Who the fuck has been fucking with me? I honestly never trust anybody, and now, I know that somebody can just PRETEND to be you… for what? What did they wanna know? What have they learned?"
"All I'm seeing is a bunch of juvenile shit, some delinquency, but in a regular teenage shenanigans kind of way…" She turned around in the chair and wondered, "Have you been taking care of her?"
He sighed and pulled another chair next to her, "Not lately. I'm so scared. I don't even know of what. I guess I'm scared that I'm gonna just continue to ruin her more and more. She'll look at herself one day and wonder, how did she let herself fall so deeply into descent?"
"Or, you can be good to her. Why is this a constant struggle for you?"
"Obviously the being good to her isn't the struggle so much as the being good is."
"You've been good to me," Dani said and turned to the computer again. "What happened to my picture?" She wondered. He looked on. "What happened to the messages?"
"Ugh… They must have deactivated the account or blocked me or something."
"Are…" she looked around suspiciously, "Are they watching us right now? This honestly just did become a horror story…" They both looked around and she commented. "The only person who seems to be watching us it Mute Scoot Boogie." Stevie furrowed his eyebrows. Who the hell is Mute Scoot… He turned suddenly and looked at Tesla. She quickly buried her face in her sketchbook. He got up and Dani commented, "Surely you can't think it's Mute Scoot Boogie…"
But Stevie snatched her sketchbook, slammed the note on the table and asked, "Did you give this to me?" Her eyes widened and she snatched the note and shook her head, glancing at Bukowski, when she did. He was on his phone and didn't seem to notice the situation… or he was ignoring her because he was still angry about last night. Stevie flipped through pages in the sketch book and Dani said, "Hey… Maybe calm down. She's harmless and never causes any trouble…"
"Yeah, but her boyfriend sure does, sick fuck!" He ripped a page from the book slammed it down and tried to get the note sent to him to compare the handwriting. By this time, the situation was noticeable and became even more of a spectacle when Tesla began to let out this loud continuous groan sound as she tried to keep the note tucked away on her person. Bukoski was heading over to the commotion when Chase shoved Stevie over the table and cupped Tesla's face, "You okay? Did he hurt you?" he wondered. She shook her head and gave him a hug.
Bukowski finally reached them as Tesla slid the note into Chase's hand and whispered, "Hide it." He shoved it into his pocket and stood up straight, while Dani pulled Stevie, to keep him from charging at Chase.
"What. The. Fuck. Evans?" Bukowski asked. A few other orderlies were coming over, too.
"She's up to something. I don't know what. I don't know if she's working for you. I don't know what's happening, but she definitely wrote that note! It's in HER handwriting, and that's why she didn't want me to take it from her!"
"There is no note!" Chase said. "He's a bomb waiting to go off, and now he attacks the most defenseless person in the building!"
Bukowski asked, "Allie-Ann, can you empty your pockets for me?" She did so and shrugged her shoulders. "What note, Evans?"
"It was a threat or something." She shook her head, looking desperately at him. It was a warning, why couldn't he see that?
"She never would threaten anybody. Bukowski, you know her better than I do. You know that this is another one of Stevie's outrageous behavioral problems!" Chase defended.
"Calm down, Chase. Take Allie-Ann back to the rooms, and I'll handle all of this. I'll get the sketchbooks back to you. You two just go, chill out a moment." Chase took her hand and led her away, glaring at Stevie, as he did. Bukowski turned to Stevie, "Tell me your side, again… Calmly."
"Somebody catfished me as Dani when she was out. Somebody warned me not to trust anybody, just last night, with a note. You're the only person that even… that would even, and you know how she is with you!" He said. The other orderlies looked unbothered. Typical Stevie Evans shit… He folded his arms, hugged himself and shook his head, "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me. I don't know why I attacked her," he said.
Surrette said, "Great! Let's get you in your room for a little bit." He took his arm and led him away.
Dani and Bukowski looked at each other. She was glaring at him. He simply turned to Mario and said, "I'm not supposed to be around this one. She's violent, so careful." Dani held her hands up and calmly walked off. She didn't need an escort. Bukowski began going through Tesla's books to see if he saw a note stashed someplace. If she was trying to warn Stevie about something, that was going to really piss him off. He had been as patient with her as he could be, knowing that his obtaining her record from Giardi was troubling to her and that she had been conflicted about their relationship for a little while, now. But… the last thing that he needed was her turning on him after he had trusted her with damaging information about himself. He didn't find anything. He went to her room, where she and Chase were seated at her little table. "Chase, do you have anything in your pocket?" He wondered. Chase shook his head and pulled his pockets inside out. Bukowski smiled, "Can you leave us?" Chase looked at Tesla, worried, but she took a deep breath and nodded her head. Bukowski narrowed his eyes at the exchange.
When Chase was gone, he wondered, "Are you trying to move on with him?" She shook her head. "Good. He's a good guy and I like him, but surely you know that I would never let that happen?" She nodded her head. "Are you turning on me? Did you send Evans anything?" She shook her head again, but she had tears in her eyes and he just knew that she was lying. "Good. I'll just review the hallway cams and confirm that, then we can go back to normal, yeah?" She clenched the table and nodded her head, again. "Really? You're gonna make me review the camera and see you, and prove that you're lying to me." She shrugged her shoulders. "If you're not on my side… You know that I can't be on yours, right?" He sat down and chuckled, "What is your plan? You what - sign yourself out, and go find a new life? You'd have to start at your grandmother's house, and I know where she lives. You would have to be willing to open up your mouth and make your claims against me, and I think we both know that you're not ready for that. You would need to try to get authorities involved, and I would never visibly break the law. You'd just look like a crazy black bitch that demonizes every ginger that she sees because of an unfortunate event that everyone will know about, because believe me, the moment that you open your mouth and try to say one thing against me, that video will be on every site that allows me to upload it." She covered her face and started crying. "I'm not gonna check the footage. I know you lied to me. I'm gonna just hope that you love me enough to turn from this self destructive path that you're on." He leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead and asked in a low, threatening voice, "Are you my girl, Allie-Ann?" She nodded her head. "Good." He smiled, gave her another quick kiss and left the room.
"What the fuck did you do?" Surette asked him when he came out of the room.
Bukowski shook his head, "I think I really fucked up, Man. I need your help. She's out of my control. I don't know what she'll spill about."
Surette looked annoyed and suggested, "Let's go chat, in private."