Who: Zed Blaze and
Caleb LearyWhat: Three steps back, one step forward
Where: Caleb's apartment
When: Saturday night
Zed did leave New York City. He went so far as to get on a plane and fly to Vegas. He stayed there for three nights, and got so fucking drunk and trashed, he was peeled out of a gutter unconscious and delivered by ambulance to the ER. He had even sliced up the palm of his hand with his Swiss Army Knife because he had come so close to cutting his wrists with it to just finally end this bullshit once and for all. He didn't go through with it. He didn't really want to end himself. He never had. That was the whole goddamn point of escaping through witness protection. But, so angry at himself in his drunken state, had fumbled with the sharp knife and cut himself.
Then he apparently fucked a female hooker, who had called an ambulance and was with him when he came-to in the ER wanting her payment for services rendered. It make him physically sick to know he had fallen into the same traps his father had. Physically sick to the point he was busy forcefully vomiting all over himself when Luke sent him a text telling him that 'The guy at the bar has left a note here for you. I'll leave it behind the front bar for you if you want it.' Maybe it was a reality check to have that text come through right at that moment when he was literally rock bottom, drunk, covered in vomit, and lowered to screwing a sex he had no desire for... but he went home. He went back to New York.
Now he was standing on the doorstep of the address scrawled on a slip of paper in an all-too-familiar handwriting. He held it between his thumb and index finger of a heavily dressed and bandaged hand. Before ringing the buzzer, a single tear escaped and slipped down Zed's cheek. He didn't wipe it away and soon a couple more chased it. He was looking at his feet, head hung. Finally, he reached up with his uninjured hand and rang the buzzer.