CRISIS
Dess stumbled around on the dancefloor with yet another cocktail in hand. She was really getting drunk now. Dess walked clumsily into a group of dancers. "You got drugs?" she asked, almost losing her balance. They all shook their heads. Dess thought she could hear them whisper. "What a loser," one muttered.
"She looks old," another added.
"Probably crazy," another dancer whispered.
"You bet I'm crazy," Dess snarled in response, and she wandered out of the group. "Take advantage of me!" Dess cried, her voice ringing through the noisy nightclub. "Come on, somebody hurt me! Use me!" Dess ran into a group of wide-eyed dancers. "Come on!" Dess screamed at a random boy. "Use me! Like I've been used all my life!" Dess lunged at the boy, and kissed him hard. The boy waved his hands around frantically, before trying to push Dess off. But Dess was strong from years of chasing children around. She grabbed him tight, and pushed him down, keeping their lips locked. The boy's friends just stood, motionless, staring in amazement. Dess heard the sound of running feet, and strong hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her off the innocent boy. Dess kicked and screamed, before collapsing on the ground, sobbing. When Dess opened her eyes, she glimpsed the crowd staring at her, the security guard from the front entrance eying her nervously. The flashing lights of the nightclub had stopped pulsing, as had the techno beat. Dess stood up slowly. And then she ran. Her steps were loud and sloppy as she drunkenly ran out of the nightclub and onto the street. Dess was in such a rush that she didn't even see the car, speeding down Main Street.
Dess saw bright lights. "Oh crap," she moaned.
"Stay still, please," a distant voice said, calmly. "You're in an ambulance. What's your name, dear?"
"Dess," Dess muttered.
"Okay, Dess," the voice said. "You've been hit by a car." Dess sat bolt upright. A firm hand pushed her downwards. "Stay down," the calm voice commanded. "You're bleeding too much to do that. You may even have brain damage."
"What time is it?" Dess tried to ask, but she coughed up blood. Dess heard a frantic rush around her as someone shoved a plastic dish in front of Dess' mouth. "We need help here!" The calm voice had suddenly become not-so-calm. "We need to stabilise her!" it cried. "Help!" Dess closed her eyes. She could feel her heart beating quickly in her chest, almost trying to rip itself out of her ribcage. "Just let me go," Dess whispered, but nobody heard her. Then Dess slipped away. Again. "Find Rex," a distant voice pleaded. "Frame his sick ass. I need you to, Dess! The equation adds up in midnight…."
Dess' eyes slid open. She was lying in a hospital bed. A nurse smiled down at her. "You need to rest," the nurse said wearily. "Those paramedics just saved you. You passed away twice in one night. Luckily, they revived you."
"Really?" Dess whispered, her throat parch. The nurse nodded. Dess tried to focus on a clock that hung on a nearby wall, but she couldn't. "What's the time?" Dess asked, stiffly flexing her fingers. "Almost midnight," the nurse said with a small smile. Dess froze. "Right……." Dess murmured. Dess sat upwards. This time, she didn't throw up blood. "Um, what are my injuries?" Dess asked.
"Well, remarkably, you've only got concussion and a few torn ligaments and the like. Of course, you've got a lot of cuts and wounds." Suddenly, the world shuddered, a blue eeriness inking itself into the walls of the suddenly claustrophobic hospital room. Dess groaned, placing her head in her hands. The splitting pain of concussion pulsed through Dess' bruised head. Dess glanced up at the frozen nurse, who was smiling. It was a creepy sight. Normal people, frozen in time, always gave Dess a queasy feeling. Dess thought of the night she had had. The fight with Jonathan. Her parents' distress at finally finding out the truth about their daughter's life. The traumatic time in the bathroom. The wild night out. And then, her lying somewhere, as people rushed to save her life. But Dess hadn't wanted to be saved. Dess had slipped away. And then a voice had come, telling her to frame Rex. "I need you to, Dess!" the voice had pleaded. "The equation adds up in midnight!" What the hell? Dess thought. The equation adds up at midnight? Frame Rex? It just didn't make sense.