|Alex (99down) wrote in repose,|
@ 2019-08-06 16:31:00
|Entry tags:||*log, alex white, mal reed, plot: theater|
Downtown/Trailer Park: Alex and Mal
Who: Alex and Mal
What: Home security!
Where: Mal's shop/Alex's trailer
When: During Theater Plot, follwing this.
Warnings/Rating: Low/potential weirdness
Something was off. Something was still off. Everything had been getting worse since the night Alex had died. Two weeks had passed, and it wasn't getting better - that much was for sure. He wasn't sleeping, but he couldn't remember being awake. Someone was breaking into his trailer and leaving him creepy offerings of DVD players and kitschy memorabilia, not to mention a mason jar full of money - $811.39 to be exact. He didn't know what he should do about that yet, and had stuck it in the freezer so maybe he would forget about it. That wasn't his money. That was someone else's. And yet it was so, so tempting.
Normally, he'd lament the missed hours at the shop, but today he was grateful he'd been scheduled for a short morning shift. He felt like hell. He looked like hell: bags under his eyes and hair a bit tangled, harkening back more to his homeless days than the past few months he'd spent in Repose when he'd eating better, being more active in general, making friends, and just remembering who he really was. And none of that was the worst of it. The worst was, he still had that feeling that someone else was watching out from behind his eyes. It had been that way since the night of the play, and every day it got more intense, like something was hunched down inside him, waiting to take over.
He realized halfway to Mal's shop that he wasn't sure Mal actually lived there, even though most of the small businesses in town had an apartment on the second floor. Still, that didn't guarantee Mal would be there, either. He wasn't sure of anything except that one foot at a time was taking him closer and he'd figure it out. When he got to the shop, it was locked up, so he pulled out his phone and texted Mal that he was there, then leaned back against the doorway and lit up a much-needed smoke, the music in his ears possibly being the only thing keeping him awake.