mother will she tear your little boy apart?

kate and i arrived home at just about the same time yesterday.

i'm perched on the stairs, asking her how her exam went when we first hear the dweller mumbling incoherently. he starts to get louder, yells a few things and then falls silent. we stare at each other in, i think i can assume, abject terror and retreat upstairs to look up some appropriate numbers to call to get someone-anyone to come and help us help him.

enter a super hero disguised as a mere morgen. he and kate go to the cellar, where they find the dweller, covered in vomit and his own waste, curled up in a ball in the corner on the floor mumbling to himself. there's glass all over the floor and just about everything is trashed or smashed. they get him up, into his bed, and start reasoning with him about going to the hospital. he stays mostly calm, but gets more and mroe agitated as they continue, so morgen gives him a time limit of one hour, comes back upstairs and calls the cops.

the men [and woman, in this case] in blue arrive and convince james that he needs to get up out of the cellar and get some help. apparently he agreed, so an ambulance comes, james gets in and the physical aspect of the dweller is removed.

kate spends the next two hours on the phone calling various people and trying to track down his family, which we eventually do, leaving a message on his sister's voice mail that's lacking in details.

the dweller's sister calls us back today- i talk to her for almost forty minutes about what happened, and am told that this happenes every year, all the time at this time. she also says that she is done with him and can't invest- yet again- emotionally, physically, or financially. and i mean, who can blame her? she then promises to call the hospital and let us know about james and to try and figure something out about his stuff [that is all trashed or good only for the trash anyways, seeing as how most of it it covered in vomit and badness].

she calls back a few hours later.

the dweller never made it to the hospital. he's out and about somewhere, severely depressed, wasted, and more than likely cold, seeing as how it's negative twenty-eight with the wind chill outside today.

this whole situation is wash.