It felt as if she'd taken a step back. A leap back. Nic's attempt to talk with her a few months back had failed so miserably and had caused Karina to flee back into herself in a way she'd not done since she'd first been released from St. Mungo's nearly five years ago. Food had become a stranger to her as she lived on a steady diet of fags and liquor. It had left her with a cadaverous appearance, the hollows under eyes deeper than they'd ever been before. She didn't much care. She saw no one and called no one. Leathan had even stopped attempting to entice her to his new Private Investigation firm. Had she the guts, she'd kill herself already.
Maybe that was what she was doing. A slow, grinding march towards the end of her life.
She'd managed to hold onto her flat in Brass Lantern; the money seemed to always come just when she was sure she'd be out on the street. For now she'd be able to make it for another month before she'd have to resort to either working or using her wand to trick the Muggle landlady. Illegal as hell, but what did she care?
Her flat looked about like she did. A heavy cloud of smoke had taken up nearly permanent residence in the upper regions of the place and she'd not taken care of the very basic necessities of taking out the trash or washing dishes (for she did eat - on occasion). The only clean area in her flat was the couch where she spent most of her days watching the telly between counting down the days to the next full moon.
When the knock sounded on her door, she coughed twice and then spoke. "I'm not coming out, Leath. I told you that last week and the week before." She didn't imagine it was anyone else standing out there.




