The nightmares are starting to spread into his days. Stewart takes drugs to sleep, drugs to stay awake, and drugs to deal with either. The list of substances he's become accustomed to consuming is longer than he cares to tally. Ingesting anything he acquires is instinct; refusing anything a trial.

Sobriety is a feeling of no control. Dizziness, hypertension, sour stomach, short attention, lethargy. An increase in the usual hallucinations is now driving his consumption. And when the chemicals can't control his actions, the visions do. The old man he's been hearing for years now has a body. No facial structure, yet, but his form can be plainly seen.

Stewart spends a great deal of time in his head. When he speaks it isn't his voice, but a character created to hide his disgust with his surroundings. The happy times are spent in his head, with her. Hearing her talking for eons of time as she once did. Seeing pools of black swimming in emerald eyes and the way she looked at him as if simply amazed to be in his presence.

How did they get her?                  
I will find her.   

He works his way up and down the city streets. His kind sometimes meet at a fountain downtown, but no one seems to be out this night. He works his way towards the river and stares at his reflection. He's still not comfortable with the image that stares back. The dark circles under the eyes won't go away. Flesh sags around sharp bones. Disdain in his eyes. In this sickening spiral towards nothingness he finds happiness, the adrenaline of riding a roller coaster towards a break in the tracks. He isn't sure if he wants off, and even if he did, the crash is probably the easiest way out. Redemption means changing his view of life, and he doesn't feel like making the effort.

Stewart walks to the edge of the river near the fountain. Lowering his feet into the water, he notices the sounds of the city becoming more and more distant. The cold, slow burning covers him like a blanket.