ESCAPE

After five minutes of staring aimlessly at a water jug, the numbers all added up. Melissa had mindcasted to Dess from beyond the grave. Melissa had been the voice who had urged Dess to frame Rex. Melissa had told Dess that framing Rex for her murder had to be done during midnight. Rex had run away into midnight, maybe to live with his darkling 'groupies.' No finger prints or other evidence had been found at the scene of Melissa's murder, Dess had been told by the police all those years ago. So Dess had hatched a brilliant plan. She had to find Rex, and get him to kill her, right at the end of midnight. Somehow, she had to get a message to Jonathan, telling him where she was, and that she was dead. When midnight ended, Jonathan would show the police the scene of the crime, complete with a frozen Rex. It would be a win win situation. Dess would end her miserable life, and would make up for the guilt she felt for leaving her children, basically stranded, by framing Rex, by putting him away forever as Melissa's revenge. Of course, for the plan to work, Dess would need to prepare herself, which meant that tonight wasn't a good time to put the plan into action. Tomorrow night she would frame Rex. It was the perfect plan.

"Mummy!" Charlotte cried as she ran into the hospital room. Dess moaned, and not because of her injuries. She had a terrible hangover. Her head ached with a dull pain, her vision was blurred and she had been throwing up all morning. Charlotte jumped onto Dess, and hugged her. "Ahh!" Dess cried. "Are there more of you?"

"Ada, Dylan and Grandma and Grandpa were walking too slowly so I ran ahead," Charlotte explained.

"Charlotte!" a voice cried. "There you are!" Dess tilted her head to the side and opened her eyes. Evangelista was standing in the doorway, a concerned expression on her face. "The nurse called," Evangelista explained, dropping all of the "Get well Soon" cards and presents she was holding. "You were in a car accident! Dess!" Evangelista ran over to her daughter and sat down in a chair next to her. "Are you alright?" she asked, brushing Dess' now-short hair out of her eyes. "And what did you do to your hair?"

"Mom," Dess muttered. "I'm fine." Evangelista walked to the end of the hospital bed, and withdrew a folder that hung on the end of it. "Hmmmm," Evangelista said, reading off the folder. "Extensive cuts and bruises, some minor injuries to the limbs and possible non-critical brain damage. Further observation required, stay in hospital for three days then home recovery necessary."

"It's nothing, really, mom," Dess said. "I mean, I could have had much worse injuries."

"Darling?" Evagelista asked. "Could you please tell me what happened?" Dess looked at the ground.

"Maybe I'll take the kids for some chow in the hospital café," Peter said, herding the children out of the hospital room. "We'll be back soon." Peter closed the door.

"Mom," Dess said. "I needed a way out. I needed to forget my troubles."

"So what did you do?" Evangelista asked. "One minute you were in the bathroom, the next minute, you were gone!"

"I'm sorry," Dess sobbed, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "I went to the Bixby Nightclub, and got drunk. I didn't know what I was doing." Dess left out the bit about almost practically raping an innocent youngster. "Then I left the nightclub in a hurry, and I didn't look when I crossed the road. And then, well, a car hit me." Evangelista nodded sadly. "Well, soon you'll be fine," Evangelista said, but she was only trying to convince herself. "And you can come home." Evangelista added hastily. Dess shook her head, slowly.

"You will be coming home, won't you?" Evangelista asked sharply.

"Um, I'm not sure that I will get that opportunity," Dess explained.

"What?" Evangelista asked.

"Um, I might not ever come home again," Dess continued. "I might leave Jonathan with the kids and, um, go on a holiday, sort of."

"You mean a long term holiday," Evangelista asked suspiciously.

"You could call it that," Dess said, with a nervous smile.

"Oh Dess, don't be ridiculous, your children need you!" Evangelista cried.

"Jonathan can handle them!" Dess cried.

"Oh, you know he's a good-for-nothing twirp, Dess," Evangelista spat. "Despite what your father may think."

"What does dad think?" Dess asked.

"He talked to Jonathan last night," Evangelista explained. "Found out all the twists and turns of your marriage."

"And parents leave their kids alone once they're adults!" Dess cried sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up," Evangelista said. "I know your relationship was a solution to the pain you both felt."

"Yep," Dess agreed.

"But you see, your father thinks that what Jonathan did was alright," Evangelista explained. "That the affairs weren't that bad."

"Wha?" Dess asked.

"Your father thinks that Jonathan was just trying to find someone he really loved when he had all those affairs," Evangelista continued. "And that he was going to break up with you earlier anyway, but did the respectable thing and stayed married to you when you fell pregnant with Dylan."

"He still had an affair," Dess added.

"Your father even believes that you aren't really mad at Jonathan," Evangelista said in amazement. "And that you're really mad with yourself." Dess looked at her pillow. Was there any sense in what her father though? Dess asked herself.

"Well, whether I'm angry at Jonathan or at myself, it doesn't matter," Dess finally concluded. "I will not be getting back together with him. It's unfair on both of us."

"Good decision," Evangelista said. "Now, I think you need some space. I'll go down to the café and tell your father that we'll be leaving."

"Thanks," Dess said gratefully. Evangelista walked to the door.

"Oh, and Dess," Evangelista said, deep in thought. "Your car is a pain in the ass to drive."

"Thanks, mom," Dess said with a smirk. "Love you!"

Dess eased herself out of the hospital bed. Her movements were slow and her head was heavy, but Dess managed to get out of the bed. There were cuts and bruises all over Dess' body – perfect. That would really make Rex look like a murderer. Dess smiled happily and glanced up at the clock. It was nine o'clock in the evening. Dess wrapped her flimsy hospital gown around herself. Then she shivered. The hospital gown was very thin, and it was a cold, winter's night. The heating in the Bixby Public Hospital just didn't cut it. Dess had been practising walking all day since her parents had left the hospital. It was painful and slow to walk, but Dess could do it. Dess limped over to the open suitcase that her parents had brought her. It was filled with clothes and toiletries. Dess pulled out a cream-coloured dress, some beige stockings and a large grey jacket and headed for the ensuite. Dess had opted to wear neutral colours for her escape – she wanted to blend seamlessly into the usual hustle and bustle of the old hospital. The nurses were already suspicious of Dess – she had asked them five times today if she could be discharged, and all five times the nurses had said "no." "Darn bitches," Dess muttered under her breath as she changed into her boring outfit. Dess slipped on some black boots and washed her face. She still wasn't sure whether she was angry with herself or with Jonathan, but she had much more important things to worry about. Dess pulled a grey beret over her head and picked up her handbag, which she had filled with all of the cards her kids had given her. And then Dess slipped out of the hospital room.

Dess looked at the ground as she weaved through the doctors, nurses and patients of Bixby Public Hospital. No one even stopped her until she arrived at the front doors of the hospital. "Excuse me ma'am," a security guard said, throwing himself in front of Dess, blocking her attempts to get through the sliding doors. "You shouldn't be here this late, it's past hospital visiting hours," the security guard said in a monotonous voice. "You will be fined for doing this. I need your details."

"Look, I don't have time for this," Dess said in an annoyed tone. "I have to get somewhere important."

"Look, I don't care," the guard said. "I need your det…" He trailed off.

"Yeah?" Dess asked.

"You're wearing a hospital band around your wrist," the security guard said, staring at Dess' wrist, which was poking out of the jacket sleeves.

"Shit," Dess muttered, remembering how she had forgotten to take the bracelet off. Dess laughed nervously. "Oh, this old thing!" Dess cried, pushing the bracelet further up her arm. "Oh, it's a charity band."

"Can I have a look at that?" the security guard asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary," Dess laughed.

"I think it is," the security guard said coldly, grabbing Dess' wrist.

"Get off me!" Dess cried. "I could sue you for that!" The guard ignored Dess' complaints and read the bracelet.

"Desdemona Martinez,"the guard read. "Hospital patient in room B103, admitted, hmm, yesterday! Got ya!" Dess smiled nervously, her mind racing. Then it hit her.

"Oh, my friend, Desdemona, who I was just visiting, gave the band to me," Dess lied. "Should I be concerned?"

"Maybe…" the guard said thoughtfully. "Did she say anything strange to you, Miss?"

"It's Mrs Jennifer Jones, thankyou," Dess said sweetly, enjoying her performance. "Well, come to think of it, Desdemona did say that hated the hospital and she was thinking of breaking out of here. Then she gave me the band."

"Okay, well, um, thankyou for that," the security guard said, his voice breaking. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm just going to go up to this patient's room and see if she's there. Where was it again?" Dess glanced down at the bad she wore on her wrist. "It's B126," Dess lied. That would keep him busy for a while.

"Thanks," the security guard said. "You may leave. And don't worry about that fine."

"Oh, thankyou officer," Dess said, remembering an old trip her and Jonathan had used when they got in trouble with security guards. They loved being called 'officer.' The sliding doors automatically opened and Dess walked out of the hospital, a free woman.