Meltdown

A knock at the door? Was someone knocking? Justin wasn't even sure. Was that someone's muffled voice? Why hadn't he heard the dogs barking? Too lethargic to even try to figure it out, he remains on the floor.

A few minutes later though, as he feels someone's touch and distinguishes Beth's voice, he tries to open his eyes again, but only succeeds in getting them partway there. Beth? She was here? How did she know to come? Why had she? It was late at night, wasn't it? What was she doing here?

His eyes start to roll back in his head again but he manages to bring himself back. He was in no position to complain or tell her to leave. He needed help this time and he knew it.

"I don't know why I'm on the floor," he mumbles lamely. "But I can't get up."

Following instructions and feeling her trying to help him up gives him enough gumption to try again. Though barely able to support his own weight, with her help he manages to get onto the couch and lie on his side, shivering with a cold chill as his body burned with fever.

Beth's question forces him to concentrate and he tries to focus on her face and process his thoughts as understandable words so he could give her what she needed. "I... I don't know," he answers hoarsely. "I think I have a fever..." That would explain why he was so cold or hot and sweaty, though it wouldn't explain why the kitchen was in shambles. "...and a headache... and I can't keep anything down." He swallows hard, trying not to pass out. Facts. He needed to give her facts. "And I'm in the middle of a meltdown." His eyes roll back again before coming into focus once more, only to glisten as they fill. "So if I say or do anything out of character...that's why."

Caught in another wave of chills, his body tenses and he sucks in his breath.
Think, Justin, think. She's here to help but she doesn't know where anything is.
"Um... there's... there's blankets in the chair and..." His eyes fall shut before he forces them open again. "And, um... Tylenol or something... maybe in the bathroom or... my bedroom, I don't know." He shivers again. There were plenty of things to drink in the kitchen along with cans of soup but he didn't even know what he could keep down at this point.

Curling into a tight ball as he shakes, he finally allows his eyes to close again. He didn't want to bother Beth with any of this but maybe if she could stay for just a little while, he could get over this first wave and be able to take care of himself after that.


Kip doesn't move and though forced to look up at Karla once, he doesn't hold his gaze for long, letting his eye drop again. He was too ashamed to look her in the eye. He does hear her though, and he does weigh his options. Even if he didn't let it show, he was grateful for her presence and her care.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbles in response, his words still slightly slurred. "If I say we go later then... then you guys will still take me home so... what's the point in postponing it?"

Sniffing, he wipes his nose with his sleeve and shivers again. "I've... been alone since Sunday morning," he admits. He hadn't eaten anything since then either. "I just... I..." His voice cracks again, his lower lip trembling. "I didn't know how to come back home." And face all those who had warned him not to come here. And have them look at him and know what happened...again. And have them tell him how sorry they were. And experience the worst form of embarrassment he knew. No, he didn't know how to do that.

Kip starts to sigh deeply, but the intake of air creates more pain and he winces, doubling over a little more. Leaning on Karla for a moment of stability, he slowly stretches out his legs until they hung over the bed and he could gain some leverage to pull himself to the edge. Though he made no sound, the pain was excruciating. Mustering up what little courage he had left, he stands a bit wobbly. He tucks his sore arm up by his side, while his other arm stays wrapped around his ribcage. After one painful step though, he stops. His wounds were days old and he was cold and stiff on top of everything else.

He finally turns to look at Karla on his own. His gaze was dark, seeming to lack all life. "I need your help," he admits quietly. Waiting for her to join him, he moves his arm around her shoulders to lean some of his weight on her. As they trudge slowly through the cabin, it felt as though any ounce of dignity he had left was now gone. The pieces of broken furniture and objects were stepped over carefully, any ounce of hope for better days seeming to be in just as many pieces. "I wish my dad woulda finished the job," he mutters under his breath.