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Post by blueeyeddevil on Aug 21, 2012 22:52:42 GMT -6
Wes Harlow
Last time the two of them had met, Wes had made the terrible mistake of asking MaCarthy where he could score some drugs. The man had been high, Wes had been suffering so close to the anniversary of Ian's death, and all he'd been thinking about was getting a fix. He hadn't even known the man was his superior! Still, till now he'd pretty much tried to lay low around MaCarthy, afraid of the consequences and hoping that the older man had been too out of it to remember what he'd asked.
He asked if he could borrow a lighter and he quickly caught the one MaCarthy tossed to him. “Light up,” he encouraged. Wes flicked it, touching it to the cigarette he'd replaced in his mouth. He tossed hte lighter back and gave a nod of thanks. Wes began to think that maybe they might be able to escape this situation without hvaing to delve into that incredibly awkward night. Maybe MaCarthy really had forgotten!
“Tell me, Mr. Harlow, isn’t there somewhere you need to be now? Rehearsal? Costume room? Rehab?”
...or maybe not.
Wes stared for a moment in shock, the cigarette dangling precariously between his parted lips. Had he really heard right? Slowly the shock faded and Wes straightened, blowing a puff of billowy smoke before finally answering. "I was sort of hoping you'd forgotten about that," he admitted. "I could pretend like I have I no idea what you're talking about, but I think we both know how stupid that would be." Wes's green eyes looked up at the older man. "So what happens now?"
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Aug 22, 2012 0:06:18 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
There was a nothing but silence and cigarette smoke between the two men. Bill stood on the blurred line between caring about Wes’s well-being and wanting him to get the f*ck out of his opera house. Bill’s chest ached with a cocktail of anger and empathy: a poisonous combination where drugs were involved.
"I was sort of hoping you'd forgotten about that," Harlow said sheepishly, to which Bill rolled his eyes and scoffed. Forget? Bill may have been flying high as a kite that day, but he was never one for forgetting. It was a blessing and a curse, really. "I could pretend like I have I no idea what you're talking about, but I think we both know how stupid that would be."
Bill nodded. Yes. It would have been stupid. Bill only needed one more factor to push him to either side of the fine line he walked between helping and firing: blatant lying would be a very big push, indeed.
"So what happens now?"
Bill was not going to beat around the bush. He was going to cut to chase, call a spade for what it really was. “What happens now,” Bill said, “is you can either go to rehab or, since I know about your little habit, you could lose your job.” Bill smashed out his cigarette, hearing a satisfying crunch between his toe as he stubbed it out. “Look, Wes. I was once where you are now. And I know as well as you that it sucks. So, that said, I’m willing to break a deal with you if you’re willing to listen. Are you willing to listen?”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Aug 22, 2012 12:31:03 GMT -6
Wes Harlow
It was a very dangerous situation he was in now. His boss knew about his drug problem and that couldn't end well for him at all. The Radio Remedy manager had known, obviously, but with the band, Wes had been indispensable. The couldn't replace him without causing an uproar from the fans and blowing their image. But here at the Opera House, Wes was no one. They wouldn't miss one of many chorus members that mean that he was entirely vulnerable to whatever actions were taken against him.
He quietly asked MaCarthy what was going to happen now that things were out in the open. “What happens now is you can either go to rehab or, since I know about your little habit, you could lose your job.” he said, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. Wes realized how easily MaCarthy could do the same to his dreams of pursuing a career in a new kind of a music.
“Look, Wes. I was once where you are now. And I know as well as you that it sucks. So, that said, I’m willing to break a deal with you if you’re willing to listen. Are you willing to listen?” he asked.
Wes glanced away, thinking for a moment. If he walked away now, he would lose his job for sure. MaCarthy would have him fired in a heartbeat, he had no doubt about that. Maybe he would find work somewhere else, but that meant saying goodbye to Amorette and the life he begun to build here in Paris. He didn't want that.
With a sigh, he tossed his own cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. "Guess I don't really have much of a choice, do I," he said with a look mixed between a grimace and a grin. "Yeah...I'll listen," he said softly.
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Aug 22, 2012 13:23:41 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
Harlow looked away in thought, and Bill could feel his nerves being run across with a metaphorical cheese grater. He expected all of his employees to look at him when he addressed them and Harlow was no exception. He wanted to see Harlow’s thought process, wanted to see him listening and absorbing everything Bill said. He wanted him to respond in a respectful way, or else Bill would be less inclined to help him.
But the voice of his youngest sister resounded in his head, stopping him in his tracks. There was a time when little Virginia had the world’s biggest crush on the pretty boy frontman of Radio Remedy. Once, Freddy tried to remove the large poster of Wes Harlow from her room and throw in the trash and Virginia cried. ‘But Freddy, I love him! You bring him back!’ Even after Frederick complied, she bawled. ‘You wrinkled him! Frederick MaCarthy I’m going to kill you! You treat him well!’
Though this was years ago, and Virginia likely outgrew her girlish obsession, Bill was certain that threat remained there, ready to be unleashed on anyone who hurt her first love. He wasn’t going to take that chance. So he relaxed and vowed to give Wes another few chances as far as this conversation was concerned.
"Guess I don't really have much of a choice, do I?" Wes asked with a grimace and Bill shook his head. No. He really had few appealing options. "Yeah...I'll listen.”
Bill smiled softly, glad that Wes was at least open. He sunk down to his level so he could look the man in the eyes. “Look. I can’t keep you in my employment if I know about your using. And the thing is, I know. So I’m willing to let that slide as long as I don’t see it here at my opera house. I find so much as a tourniquet, you’re out. And of course I want you to get help, I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t, but I know how hard it is. Withdrawal’s a b*tch and rehab isn’t exactly a picnic. So just know that there is help out there. There’s me you can go to, and there are numbers you can call.”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Aug 23, 2012 18:18:45 GMT -6
Wes Harlow
Wes wanted to clean...really, he did. But the truth was he didn't think he could survive rehab. It would be literal torture for someone like him. The withdrawal would all but kill him, he was certain of it. And then there was the fact that he stood an almost certain chance of relapsing. Addictions were different for him than they were for other people. When he got hooked on something (which was easily) he was hooked on it almost for life. The only way he'd escaped doing pot was through getting into cocaine...and from cocaine into heroin. He just replaced one bad addiction with an even worse one that would trump the urge for the other. Yeah...real healthy.
“Look. I can’t keep you in my employment if I know about your using. And the thing is, I know." Bill said. Wes felt his heart sink, convinced the next words out of the other man's mouth were that he had better pack his stuff and be out by the end of the day. It would be no less than he deserved...he knew he should have never gotten involved in drugs in the first place.
"So I’m willing to let that slide as long as I don’t see it here at my opera house. I find so much as a tourniquet, you’re out." he continued and Wes looked up at him, stunned. "And of course I want you to get help, I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t, but I know how hard it is. Withdrawal’s a b*tch and rehab isn’t exactly a picnic. So just know that there is help out there. There’s me you can go to, and there are numbers you can call.”
Wes nodded in understanding. "I won't let you down, I swear," he said fervently. If Bill was going to give him this chance then he wasn't going to do anything to mess it up. Besides he wouldn't do drugs here at work. "And...thank you...for giving me another chance. I know not to expect any more, but this times means a lot." He shook hands with the older than older man and turned as if to head inside. He paused after a few feet and turned to Bill again. "I know this probably doesn't make a difference, but I've only used once since I got to Paris. I've been trying my best not to do it again," he said.
He was unsure what had made him tell MaCarthy that. He just didn't want the other man to regret giving him that second chance.
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Aug 24, 2012 19:42:25 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
If Bill were particularly superstitious, he’d be crossing his fingers and rubbing a rabbit’s foot, reaching for some second-rate luck to come from it, luck that would aide in Wes’s agreement. To Bill’s disbelieve and elation, the younger man nodded somberly. It was a step forward, not just for Wes, who was pulling himself out of the fog of denial and obsessed delusion Bill had once trudged through, but it was also a step forward for Bill, who was dragging himself along the rocky path of recovery; helping someone once like him made him stronger and more eager to stay clean. He saw where Wes was and ghosts of his own past danced in front of his eyes, the memories of withdrawal and self-loathing were seared too deep into his for him to forget.
"I won't let you down, I swear," Wes said with more passion than Bill had seen most dancers dance. "And...thank you...for giving me another chance. I know not to expect any more, but this times means a lot." Bill knew what it meant. Wes needed someone to be empathetic, patient, and open-hearted to get through this. It was step-one to treatment, and it was a step Bill was going to help Wes take.
"I know this probably doesn't make a difference, but I've only used once since I got to Paris. I've been trying my best not to do it again," Wes said, standing and Bill tried his hardest to make his smile believable. Drugs weren’t something you could quit cold turkey. Bill tried once and almost died on the floor of his bathroom, shaking and vomiting, screaming until Damien got home. Drugs weren’t something you gave up as a New Year’s resolution, like soda or sweets. They were a biological need, like air or water. Wes might as well of told Bill he had stopped using one of those. Wes had been here a while and drugs didn’t just slip in and out of your life with such high viscosity (there was a time when Bill swore they were the only constant). Wes would have to do a lot more to convince him that he had used so little in that amount of time. But Bill smiled softly. “I’m sure that’s true,” he said with as much honesty as he could muster. “Come on, let’s get inside. Rehearsal is about to start back up. We can’t be late.”
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Post by plantnerd92 on Jan 9, 2013 22:23:46 GMT -6
OOC: For Lori, and anyone else who wants to get mixed up in this drama. Warning: Not for the faint of heart. BIC:
Amorette Cheuvront
Mental illness was a very serious thing by itself, but when nasty, powerful medications are involved, if the dosage or the kind of medicine is wrong, can make things go downhill, very quickly. Such as was the case with Amorette. She'd been getting a bad cocktail of medicine recently, and they finally took their toll on her. Her once stabilized manic-depressive state and swung out of control with her anti-psychotics and anti-depressants being messed up, and now she needed a release.
Amorette felt like she was going to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces in an instant if she didn't do something... She couldn't take it anymore. She wanted out. Her dark daydreams would soon become reality.
She slipped into the bathrooms, checking to make sure it was completely abandoned before she started looking for something, anything she could use. She became quite frustrated with her search until her teal blue eyes landed on the mirrors. Not quite usable... yet... Amorette stepped forward and went to them, reaching out to trace her fingers across the smooth, cold glass, before snapping her head back and bashing her forehead into the glass, shattering it and scattering it all over the sink and floor, leaving a large gash in her forehead as it started to bleed and get into her eyes and mouth, tasting salty and metallic as she bent down, the blood dripping to the floor while she found a particularly sharp piece large enough to fit into her hand, sitting down, cutting into her legs and knees as they pressed their weight into the broken shards on the floor. She admired it for a long moment, looking at her messy reflection in it.
Amorette was no longer functioning within reason.
She slowly pulled up her sleeve, before pressing the edge of the glass shard against her flesh in the middle of the inside of her forearm, before in one fluid motion, slashing it clear down to her wrist. She lifted it and did the same thing to her other arm, watching with a sick sort of fascination as the red blood flowed out in stark contrast against her pale skin, tears flowing from her eyes, mingling with her blood as it stained her clothes and hair and out on the floor around her. The pain felt good. It held her together, and she felt grounded for once. Soon, she wouldn't have to worry anymore. Amorette laid out on the glass-strewn floor, curled into a fetal position as she held her arms to her chest. Soon... she'd be gone soon...
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Jan 9, 2013 22:57:39 GMT -6
Wes Harlow
Something was really wrong. The feeling had been plaguing him since the time Amorette had been supposed to meet him for coffee. She never showed and she hadn't been answering any of his texts or calls. He was really starting to worry, especially he couldn't find her in her dorm room either. Where was she?! He finally approached someone who said they thought they saw her heading into the bathrooms a few minutes ago. He couldn't explain it, but the feeling of dread only grew worse and worse the closer he got to the bathroom, but his urgency only grew as well, to the point that he was practically sprinting into the bathroom.
It was like a scene out of a horror movie. Shattered glass littered the counters and the floors and blood was everywhere. He went pale and swore softly when he saw Amorette laying there on the floor, covered in blood. He ran to her, falling to his knees beside her before feeling for a pulse.He let out a sigh of relief that she was at least still alive before he sprung into action. He grabbed some hand towels from the counter, pressing them to her wrists and using another to pillow her head. He grabbed his phone and called for an ambulance that would be there soon.
He worked on keeping pressure on her wrists, trying his best to stop the bleeding. His own clothes and hands were also covered in blood by this point, but he was beyond caring at this point. He needed her to be okay. He needed her to make it. "Come on, Amorette...don't do this!" His voice was pleading and tears were starting sting with tears. "Stay with me, Am...don't go...."
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Post by plantnerd92 on Jan 9, 2013 23:14:00 GMT -6
Amorette Cheuvront
Amorette barely registered someone was even there, even as he checked her pulse. As soon as she felt something soft press firmly to her arms, however, all hell broke loose. Rocketing into an upright position, causing a cloudburst of stars to dazzle her vision, her arm snapped back and swung, backhanding whoever was touching her, trying to stop her from leaving. Amorette let out a wail that would even make a banshee cringe as she struggled to get away from the good Samaritan.
"NO!" she cut off with a strangled sob. "Non, s'il vous plait! Leave me alone!" Amorette cried her eyes out, begging and trying to get whomever was trying to help her to stop. She didn't want help! She just wanted her pain to end! She was broken! She couldn't think of her mother or sweet boyfriend whose hearts would break if her life ended! She couldn't think of her friends or physicians, or anyone else who cared about her that would be hurt by her loss. She could only be desperate about the situation she was in and try to get out of it. She couldn't see the selfishness of her actions. She just wanted out!
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Jan 9, 2013 23:30:13 GMT -6
Wes Harlow
All he could think as he tried to help her was that there was a strong possibility that he might lose her. He tried not to allow that idea to take root but he couldn't help it. Suddenly the same pain of loss he'd felt with when he learned Ian was gone was hitting him all over again. The terrible grief and the aching loneliness after losing someone you love was something he never wanted to feel again, so with her blessing or not, he was going to save Amorette.
Wes pretty much anticipated that that there would be a struggle. She shot up and tried to backhand him, but he easily caught her hand, reaching out to trap the other one as he wrestled her back to the ground and kept her steady. She was so weak from blood loss it was hardly any effort at all. Still his heart broke at the tortured sounds coming from her, her body thrashing weakly. "NO! Non, s'il vous plait! Leave me alone!" she cried out.
He held her firmly as he tried to talk to her. "Amorette! Please! Look at me," he pleaded with her. "Don't do this to me. I can't lose you too!" The tears were streaming down his face now, falling to the ground and mixing with the glass and blood.
A short while later, the paramedics rushed in, going straight into helping Amorette. They bandaged her wrists and began getting fluids in her again, orders were shouted and she was loaded on the stretcher and wheeled out the waiting ambulance that would take her to the hospital. Wes was left alone there on the bathroom floor, still covered in his girlfriend's blood, face still stained with tears, and trying to pull himself back together.
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