2019-07-24 - This is why we can't have nice things

Isolde walked up to the front door of the 13 Elm. It was dark, the meeting had ended about an hour ago. Alexander hadn't returned her text- but he did say he might be busy tonight. The house was dark too, so he wasn't home yet. She used her key to unlock the door and take a careful look around. Her first stop, Luigi. He seemed to be okay - he had food and water. She whistled a greeting to him and gave a smile.

"Hello Luigi. Would you like to fly for a little bit?" Not sure how long the bird had been in his cage today. So she turned on a couple lights and then opened the cage so he could get out and fly around if he wanted to. "I've missed you. I'm sorry I haven't been home." She turned the TV on too.

Another glance to her phone, still no response. Hrm. She headed towards the bathroom, figuring she could get cleaned up a little but she never quite made it there. The locked door was no longer locked. A little seed of worry starting to settle over her. The locked door was ALWAYS locked. Curiosity getting the better of her, Isolde carefully pushed the door open further so she could peek inside. And she just stared. The 'murder shrine' didn't particular scare her. It was more just a bit of shock and awe at how much was in the room. How it was set up.

If her Mental experience was stronger she might not be able to even enter the room because of all the emotion built up and left - but it wasn't, so she didn't, so Isolde did take a few steps in. Keeping an ear out for Luigi as she studied this glimpse of Alexander. She turned around to leave when she spotted the DREADED BAG OF BONES. Head tilting. Why weren't the bones already buried? Were these the bad bones that Alexander had warned her about?

<FS3> Isolde rolls Grit -2: Failure (5 5 4)
<FS3> Isolde rolls Composure -2: Good Success (7 7 6 5 3 )
<FS3> Isolde rolls Grit -2: Success (8 7 4 )

Suddenly Isolde was in the living room, halfway towards the kitchen where the gardening stuff was. The bag of bones in her hands. Eek! Isolde made a squeaking sort of noise and dropped the bag. Oh no. No no. That wasn't good. BURY ME ISOLDE. It was talking to her, right? Oh lord. No no no. No. NO. Isolde grit her teeth and picked up the bag, walking quickly back to the not-locked locked room and nearly throwing the bag back in its corner. "NO! You're a bad thing! You stay here!" Very insistently as she shut the door as much as it would shut.

Isolde ended up falling asleep on the couch waiting for Alexander to get back. Except, that he never came back. He never answered her texts. She sent another text just in case. But still no response after a whole hour. Isolde was getting worried. Very worried. She was sure Luigi could feel it. Feel something was wrong.

"I'm going to find him." She decided. First, she texted Easton to see if he had heard from Alexander, but no luck. Who else might know where he was? Harper? Isolde really didn't know anyone else would know. After making sure Luigi was going to be okay, Isolde left the house and headed out towards Downtown. Maybe she could check out his usual haunts? Maybe she could call the police? Had it been enough time yet? Isolde was itching for her pills again. She could feel the twisting anxiety and worry. What if Alexander was dead?

That thought almost made Isolde panic. Alexander couldn't be dead. He was her best friend. And neither of them were supposed to die yet. What would she do without him? What would he do being dead? Isolde didn't come out of these thoughts until someone bumped into her. A startled gasp and she ALMOST grabbed them. But they were walking fast and her fingers just brushed their arm. Looking around wildly , Isolde tried to pull herself together.

<FS3> Isolde rolls Composure -2: Good Success (8 8 6 2 2)

Don't panic. Don't panic. It's gonna be fine. He's okay. He has to be okay. But there was STILL NO ANSWER to her text messages. She passed by one of the newspaper stands, pausing as she looked over the front page. Double Suicide. Three people with injuries being treated at Addington Memorial. Oh no. Isolde dropped the paper and started running. Flagging down a cab to take her to the hospital and hoping that Alexander wasn't one of those three people.

Isolde hated hospitals. They reminded her of all her psych stays and death. She avoided them as much as she could, but today she ran into the ER, hands slamming down on the desk startling the poor receptionist.

"I need to see someone." Isolde's eyes were wide with worry. "No no. Someone. If someone i here." Trying to keep her thoughts organized.

A look was exchanged between the receptionist, whose tag said 'Lindsey' and a near by security guard, but then Lindsey focused on Isolde. "Okay. We can find them. Take a deep breath for me alright? Who are you looking for?"

Isolde fidgeted a little, trying to follow Lindsey's instructions and breathe. "Alex. Alexander." Tugging at her hair. "Alexander Clayton." Crossing the fingers of her other hand. Hoping beyond hope the lady wouldn't find him.

"And what's your relationship to Mr. Clayton? Do you know his date of birth?" Not that there were very many Claytons in Gray Harbor. Lindsey looked to Isolde expectantly.

"He's my friend.Best friend. I live with him. He didn't come home." Isolde paused. DID she know Alexander's birthday?...No. She didn't. "No, no I don't know. Please. He's older. A little bit. Older than me." She didn't like this line of questioning. Feeling a little panicky again.

Lindsey motioned the security guard over. "Okay." Keeping her tone even, gentle. "He's in room 389. Roger here will escort you up." Roger was an older gentleman, probably in his late 50s - salt and pepper hair, an easy but cautious smile. Isolde wasn't sure she trusted him, but Alexander was here. So she had to see him, and just nodded - breathing out a quiet thank you to Lindsey.

Roger seemed to know better than to try and make any small talk during the elevator ride. Isolde's hands were clasped together tightly. She was trying not to fidget too much, and definitely trying to ignore the fact that she was in a hospital. Which meant she might be able to get some medicine for this anxiety. With every step towards room 389, Isolde felt her stomach knotting up tighter. He wasn't dead. That was good, but he was hurt. That was bad.

Roger opened up the room to let Isolde in. "Now,I'm gonna be right outside if you need anything." And to make sure you don't do anything crazy. He didn't have to say the warning, the look in his eyes said enough. Isolde just nodded quietly. The room was meant for two, but Alexander was currently the only occupant. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the state his was in.

Tears welling up, prickling the corners of her eyes, starting to blur her vision as she made her way closer to the bed. Dragging a chair closer, she sank down into it. "You were supposed to be careful." Isolde muttered, crossing her arms on the bed and laying her head down, looking up at the sleeping man. "What happened? What have you been doing?" wiping her eyes on her sleeve and trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I didn't find Rebecca yet. I did find the bad bones. They almost got me but, they didn't."

Isolde hesitated for a moment and then carefully took Alexander's hand. She concentrated hard, closing her eyes - focusing on him. Even though he was asleep, she tried to send him an image of the Farm, of Luigi. Of the boardwalk. Good things. Good memories. Maybe it would help him wake up.