Grey Clouds On The Horizon

Night Sky Eyes

Christian's POV

"What the fuck is wrong with her, John?!" I screamed into the office phone and paced my office over Seattle. "She won't get out of bed, she won't eat, she doesn't bathe... she won't even cry. She just stares at the fucking wall and acts like she can't see me."

Dr Flynn sighed at the other end of the line. "Emilia is depressed, Christian. People with her condition get this way from time to time. Even with the proper medications, which I'm not confident she's been taking, bipolar disorder is still extremely difficult to manage."

I shook my head. "No, alright, there is no way that I'm putting up with this for another goddamn minute. I'll beat it out of her. Endorphins that come from pain make people happy. I've read articles about it."

"Christian, you can't." John scolded, clearly struggling to keep ahold of his temper. "It's been three days and she hasn't snapped out of it. I am urging you to have her committed to a facility with the resources to give her the help she needs."

"I'm helping her!" I yelled, unable to control the shaking in my voice. "She's mine. I can make her better. Maybe I can get some old movies on the way home, pick up the sushi she likes from that place on Warren St and maybe an actual cola. I know I don't keep the stuff in the house but this is an extreme circumstance. She loves it."

"You. Need. To. Get. Her. Real. Help." Flynn urged. "All she needs is a moment of energy and she will hurt herself, Christian. Emilia could die."

"No." I refused, childishly but with the resolve of the CEO I was. "Em was fine a week ago. She was laughing and wanting to play every minute of the day and writing all night. One night she got another hundred pages done. It was like she didn't need to sleep."

John groaned with frustration. "That's called mania. It's a period of high before the inevitable low she's experiencing today. Often it can be just as dangerous. Emilia needs medical professionals."

"Not my Emmy!" A voice from within me protested. "She's not like that. For fucks sake, she doesn't lose control of herself. There's no way she has this ridiculous disease."

"Fine, Christian, have it your way." Flynn huffed and I heard him nervously tapping his pen against his desk. "But when she hurts herself I don't want to hear a god damn word about how I didn't warn you!"

*Click*

The line went dead and I chucked the wireless landline at the glass paneled walls to watch it shatter into a hundred different pieces. "Taylor!" I called out, grabbing my rain coat from the back of my desk chair. "I need Gone With The Wind on DVD, spicy grab rolls from Sushi Go and four cold Cokes. The glass bottled kind with real cane sugar from the Mexican grocery store on the other side of town. Slice of lime squeezed in each."

Taylor nodded his head. "Yes sir. I'll have Sawyer run that errand and it will be ready for you by the time we reach Escala."

"Good. And give me my personal phone." I grit my teeth on our way to the car and couldn't avoid wet hair from the rain. "Is Ryan still watching her?"

"Yes, sir." Taylor pulled out into Seattle traffic and tossed the blackberry into the back seat.

"And she's still just laying in bed doing nothing?"

Pain crossed his face. My staff had grown fond of the young girl. "Yes, sir."

"Fuck!" I murmured and started searching my phone directory for a phone number I hadn't contacted in some time.