DESPERATION
"What are you doing in there, darling?" Dess heard her mother's concerned voice between the sobs of her children and the slamming of the front door.
"Look after the kids, mom," Dess whispered through the door. "Let them know I'm okay. I just need some time to myself."
"OK," Evangelista replied, and she busied herself in another room. Dess wiped her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror. "I can't do this anymore," Dess sobbed. "I need a way out." Dess knew what she had to do. Dess opened the bathroom cupboard and withdrew a large, white bottle. 'POISONOUS, DO NOT DRINK,' Dess read with a relieved smile. "My way out is toilet cleaner," Dess remarked, pressing the bottle to her lips.
"Will mommy and daddy get a divorce?" Dylan asked his grandmother.
"I don't know, honey," Evangelista said quietly, running her fingers through her long, black hair. "But no more of this talk, sweetheart. It's time for sleep. There will be plenty of time to talk in the morning."
"Will you be here, grandma?" Dylan asked, hope in his eyes.
"Yes, I will," Evangelista assured her grandson. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Grandma," Dylan said, his head hitting the pillow heavily. Evangelista closed the door, and leaned against it, breathing heavily. What is to be of my poor, poor Dess? Evangelista asked herself.
"Where's mummy?" Charlotte wailed. Evangelista walked into her granddaughter's bedroom.
"She's…..not here right now," Evangelista said. "Go to sleep, sweetheart."
"But I want her to read me a story!" Charlotte cried, propping open a book on her lap.
"She's not here, alright, Charlotte!" Evangelista yelled, her eyes flashing in the artificial light of the ceiling lamp. Charlotte's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, honey," Evangelista apologised. "Just go to sleep." Evangelista walked out of Charlotte's bedroom, turning off the light as she walked. Dess' father was propped on the couch, drinking a beer. "Would you get up, Peter!" Evangelista cried.
"What am I meant to do?" Peter asked angrily. Evangelista sat down next to her husband. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just yelled at Charlotte, that's all."
"I heard," Peter said. "But that's not my fault. Where's Dess?"
"She's in the bathroom," Evangelista said. "Having time to herself. Where is Jonathan?"
"He's gone," Peter replied. "Good riddance."
"What will become of our beautiful Dess?" Evangelista asked her husband.
"I dunno," Peter answered. "But let's leave her alone for now."
Dess looked at her watch. Shouldn't I be dead by now? Dess asked herself. She'd drunken the bottle of toilet cleaner over an hour ago. Dess had begun to question whether death was the best option at the moment. Her kids needed her, after all. Jonathan sure as hell wasn't going to help her, the lazy asshole. All I need is a good cheering up, Dess told herself. Maybe I'll do what I used to do best – party. Dess walked into the wardrobe, feeling the effects of drinking toilet cleaner. She staggered slightly as she walked, and her head hurt like hell. Dess stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like a wreck – her hair was messy, mascara was running all down her face, and her eyes were bloodshot. "Ahhhhh!" Dess screamed. "I hate myself!" Dess ran over to the mirror and punched it as hard as she could, with her bare hand. Pain welled up in her knuckles and so did blood. The skin broke open, and crimson red blood streamed out of her wounds. "Good," Dess spat. "I'm going partying." Dess hitched up her long, black dress and stuck a pin in it. She kicked off her flat-soled shoes and pulled a pair of high-heel boots from her shoe pile. Next, Dess moved swiftly to the bathroom, and turned the tap on full-blast. She filled the sink and stuck her head under the water for a good minute. Gasping for air, Dess pulled her face out of the water dried her face with a towel, removing all traces of makeup. But what to do with my hair? Dess asked in annoyance. Something silver glinted in the corner of Dess' vision. "Scissors!" Dess cried, a smile playing on her face. "Stainless steel ones, too." Dess briskly walked over to the scissors and held them to her long, dark locks. "Goodbye!" Dess cried, closing the scissors over her hair and completely chopping it off.
Dess slipped out of the bathroom and spotted her parents quietly talking on the sofa. Perfect. Dess staggered into the garage and slammed open the door of Jonathan's company car. "Whoops," Dess said innocently, smashing the door over and over against the brick wall of the garage. Dess withdrew her keys from her jacket pocket and pushed the microchip into a slot in the dashboard. As always, the car welcomed its driver. "Welcome, Jonathan," the car welcomed. Dess kicked up her heel and pierced it through the control panel, leaving nothing but a few electrical sparks. "It's Dess today," Dess snarled. Dess threw the car into reverse and backed straight through the garage door. As Dess swung the car around and onto the street, she noticed a lone figure sitting on the brick mailbox outside of her tired old house. It was Jonathan. Dess wound down her window. "Keep the ring, jerk!" Dess cried, sliding her wedding ring off her finger and throwing it out the window. "It never meant anything, anyway!" Dess slammed her foot on the accelerator and the car squealed down the street.