Apartment Complex (Amsterdam)

"Stalling what?"

"Okay, fine! I won't help you, then. I just want to help you stop drowning in those stupid parties, because before you know it, you'll be an even worse alcoholic, start drugs, and be pregnant out in the streets!"

"You won't help me, then? Good, get out."

Boris glared at her. "What's your problem?"

Olivia had started to pick at a hangnail on her thumb. "Don't have one."

"Yes, you have a problem. You're in pain, and you hide that suffering, you go out and have "fun". Let me tell you something- getting drunk isn't fun. You're blocking out your friends too! I mean, it's like I'm talking to a completely different person! What the fuck is up with the Olivia Astor I once knew? You know what? You can't screw up your own life just because a best friend of yours died. Okay, you can mourn, it's normal. But for God's sake, you're making it WORSE for yourself. Grow up, Olivia. People all over the place lost close ones from the Battle. They're back in shape and out there again. Don't let it eat away at you, okay? It's fine if it takes a piece of you away, but that's fine, because Charlie left a piece of his soul for you. But you're just going too far now. Do you think he'd be happy with this?!" he demanded loudly at her.





[27/6/12 NOTE: translation err hem ELOIIIIISE, ELOIIIIIISE...]

Naturally, all of this was just going in one ear and out the other. "Probably not."

"Okay. Bye, Olivia. Send me a letter when you're back to normal." he snapped at her disgustingly, and left the apartment.

Olivia was pleased; she finally got him to leave. But, then, she was alone again. That migraine began creeping back into her skull.

Olivia was sitting cross-legged in the dead-center on the floor of the now-empty apartment. They weren't gonna move her that easily. She glowered down at the letter in her hand. Cat-themed stationary? Really? Wasn't she over that, yet, being 20-something and all? That didn't matter. The point was that Liv was now homeless, flat-broke, and without work. Damn, was life a bitch or what? Even her own brother and his new "wifey" had rejected her plea. And now her pseudo-lover! There wasn't anyone left she could turn to! She adamantly scowled at the locked front door. Nobody at all.

"..."

Well, maybe.

"..." Her eyes averted to the corner of the ceiling. There was a rather large cobweb floating there.

Hell, why not. The cops were gonna drag her out in a few minutes anyway. Aaaaand apparate.