Chapter Fourteen
This Is Me Trying
CW: Mentions of drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, and heavily implied physical abuse
Please feel free to skip the rest of the chapter once we head into the past section.
Preparing for the painful conversation she needed to have with Cynthia wasn't going anything to plan like Diantha had hoped. She had waited to bring up the desire to have the heavy conversation until she had checked into the airport, waiting to board her flight.
It had slipped Diantha's mind that Cynthia was visiting her sister that day, but it ended up working in her favor, as it turned out Kay had her own grievances she wanted to air.
The three came to an agreement on a time and place, Cynthia's the following weekend, where she would likely then stay with her -provided things didn't go to hell.
No matter how much Diantha threw herself into getting her syllabus and coursework ready for the upcoming semester, it never left the back of her mind how overwhelmingly anxious she was about it. She had been confident enough to talk to Cynthia one on one, but she hadn't anticipated having to say any of it around Kay. She had hoped that would come later.
It was better to bite the bullet, she reasoned. She wouldn't run away from it. Kay had been an important part of her life at one time as well, so she was fine with her hearing all of it as well.
That Saturday came around fast, and at the agreed time, Diantha found herself waiting on the doorstep. When it was Kay who opened the door, hot anxiety swept over her.
She forced herself to swallow the feeling. "Isn't this familiar?" she said.
Kay looked at her for a long second before her shoulders rose in a light laugh. "Not gonna kick you out this time, and at least you don't have the ugliest ring I've ever seen with you."
Diantha laughed as she stepped through the doorway with her, taking her shoes off to be discarded next to Cynthia. "You'll probably take joy in knowing I threw it at Mel's face when I went to give him the divorce papers," she said.
That got a more genuine laugh from Kay. "Did it break his fucking nose?" she asked.
She shook her head. "I wish- though, Siebold probably almost did a couple times."
"Okay, I officially don't care about anything else, I gotta hear about that- Siebold? I mean, I remember he was a bit of a hothead, but ready to throw a punch?" she asked, leading her to the living room.
"Siebold was always ready to fight someone over something stupid- what are you even talking about?" Cynthia asked, stepping out of her room with a hairbrush in hand. Her hair was mostly dry, but had yet to be thoroughly tamed.
Diantha laughed. "Hello, my darling."
"Hey- sorry- I clearly didn't get in the shower when I said I was going to," she said, combing through her hair.
Diantha laughed lightly. "Somehow, I knew you wouldn't be ready by the time I got here," she teased.
Her shoulders rose in a shrug. "Some things never change," she said.
A snort from across the room caught her attention.
"Yeah, like how you two are once again, absolutely obnoxious, and definitely not girlfriends," Kay said as she took her spot on the loveseat, right in the middle cushion, indicating she wasn't sharing.
In the past, it would have left the two absolutely flustered, but age and experience had been able to change that. Instead, they were able to laugh about it, sharing a look that perhaps was too knowing and intimate for two people who were only labeled as friends.
But that was what most of this conversation was for. To get everything out in the open to then see how they wanted to proceed from there.
With any luck, it would go in their favor, and while honesty would hurt, they would be able to walk away confident that mistakes from their past wouldn't be repeated.
"Which of us is going first?" Kay asked as Cynthia and Diantha sat on the couch.
Diantha shook her head. "I am going to ask to go last, given I genuinely don't expect either of you to know the magnitude of- everything that happened after I left."
Cynthia paused her brushing, reaching a hand out to her. She at least had half a clue of what she was going to say.
She grabbed her hand without giving it a thought.
"What? Turn into a Hollywood bad-girl? Drinking, drugs, and sex with strangers?" Kay asked, amused by the mere suggestion.
Diantha gave her a pointed look. "I can only say no to one of those, and even then, not confidently," she answered.
She was well aware that there was still a possibility of saying yes to all three, given the times she knew she drank to blacking out, and the various times things had been slipped into her drinks.
Kay's expression fell. "Holy shit, dude. Fine, cool, you can go last."
Setting her brush down on the coffee table, Cynthia decided she would take charge of the situation. "I probably have the least to say, so might as well just let me go." She moved her arm a bit, but didn't let go of Diantha's hand. "You asked about this," she began, alluding to the scarring on her arm. "I didn't want to tell you when you first asked because it- in a roundabout way had to do with you, and I really didn't want to make you feel any worse that night than you already did."
"Fair enough," Diantha said.
"Do you remember that huge, framed map I had?" she asked.
Diantha nodded, sympathy pain preemptively ripping through her chest. "Yes."
"I had been in a horrible depressive funk. We-" She looked over at Kay "-were constantly arguing. Could barely get a few words out before one of us was mad."
Kay nodded, looking off to the side.
"Then grandma passed away and I was…" She shrugged. "Barely functioning. I think most days it was Steven who was having to get me out of bed long enough to even eat or...anything."
Cynthia ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it all off to the side away from Diantha. It would still be a while before it was fully dry.
"I can't even remember why, but I had gone back to my apartment by myself for something. The TV had been left on, and I ended up seeing something about you getting engaged to Mel, and it...it broke me. I had a wicked meltdown- broke a ton of things in my apartment. Like- blind rage. I…"
Diantha squeezed her hand, but said nothing, allowing her to continue.
"I slammed myself up against that map- and looking back I can say with certainty that it was a suiciude attempt." Her body began to feel sore thinking about it.
Kay nodded, arms folded firm across her chest. "It was so bad Steven and I literally thought someone had broken in and- yeah."
Diantha's heart hurt for her.
Cynthia continued. "Spent a week in the psych ward and-" She shook her head. "That was about just as miserable."
"Those nurses were all shit," Kay spat.
Diantha nodded. "I certainly believe it," she said. She had plenty of first-hand experience at how awful psych wards could be. While Wistera's healthcare system overall wasn't bad, mental healthcare had always been lacking.
"But that's pretty much it on that. Anytime someone asks, I usually just lie and say it was a car accident. It usually stops people from asking much more. Getting away from Wisteria helped. I owe just about everything to Steven. He got me the desk attendant job at the museum, and now I'm one of the senior curators. I have Kay and Avery back. I have you back," she said, looking at Diantha again. "Things have been better for a while now."
Kay leaned forward. "I'm gonna say that's as good of a segway as I'll probably get. You two being together again- dating or not, look it…" She sighed, falling back into the couch, cursing under her breath.
It was a long moment before she figured out where to best start.
"So, okay. Look...it- I hate having to be all emotional and shit, but it just- it worries me you two getting back together. One, I don't want you-" She pointed at Cynthia "-going through all that shit again, but also…" She pulled her hair back over her shoulder, nervously thumbing the ends of her hair. "I know it was you two that dated, but it hurt me too when you left. I didn't even get a goodbye. Avery didn't! And let me tell you! That first year after you left was an absolute nightmare with her! Every day, every single fucking day, she would ask, 'Where's Dannie?' 'Where's Dannie?' 'Why isn't Dannie with aunt Cindy?' Dannie, Dannie, Dannie- On a rare occasion, she wanted to know where Siebold was, but- god. I broke down so many times trying to explain to her that she wasn't going to see you ever again."
The admission was enough to make Diantha's whole chest hurt, contemplating biting her tongue to keep from crying. At the time, she had hoped Avery would be still young enough to not even notice the change, but it clearly hadn't been the case.
"It just...Diantha, it hurt. It fucking hurt so bad. I loved you so much. If it hadn't been for you, I don't know that I would have been prepared to even have Avery. I still don't know how much all that pregnancy yoga nonsense actually helped, but knowing you were in my corner no matter what was one of the only things that got me through all of that. Gran was so hellbent on punishing me for getting pregnant- which like, now as an adult with a child just a little older than I was when I got pregnant, it was fucked up. I was a child being punished for being coerced into unprotected sex I didn't want in the first place- anyways. All I'm trying to say is that Cynthia wasn't the only one who got hurt when you left."
As sweet of a woman Carolina had been, when Kay had finally come forward with her pregnancy, the three of them saw a side to her they never even knew existed.
When Carolina said she was going to ensure Kay wasn't allowed an epidural or anything else, that she was to be "as miserable as possible as part of her punishment", it had both terrified and enraged Diantha. She and Cynthia both had multiple anxiety-induced meltdowns over it, terrified something would happen to Kay being so young and forced to give birth.
Diantha had taken it upon herself to sneak Kay away a few times a week to a pregnancy yoga class. A private instructor she paid for herself.
She also had her doubts as to the effectiveness of it all, but she had figured it would be better than nothing, and it had eased their mutual anxiety.
Diantha took a steadying breath, trying to collect herself before speaking. "Simply saying 'I'm sorry' will not undo any of that, but do know that I truly am sorry. You and Avery both deserved a goodbye as well; and the two of you deserved a proper explanation. I want to promise you that nothing like that will ever happen again in the future. I like to think that by virtue of us even having this conversation…"
"It's proof that things aren't like they were before," Cynthia filled in.
Diantha nodded. "Exactly. I can say with confidence we would have absolutely avoided this in the past," she said, getting a breathy laugh from Cynthia.
"Probably more like I would have talked to Steven about it, and you would have talked to Siebold about it, and we would have avoided it with each other."
She hummed in agreement. "I am now much more confident in confronting things, even when they're uncomfortable." It still gave her similar amounts of anxiety, but somewhere along the way she learned how to push through it.
"Same here," Cynthia said. "I already said that if I noticed something was wrong, I'd say something. I knew something was wrong before, but I always talked myself out of saying anything." She shrugged. "I know I held off on telling you about this-"
"But that's not as though I don't understand. Given the circumstances, I would have held off, too," Diantha said.
Kay adjusted herself on the couch. "What was the circumstance?" she asked.
"I had just had a meltdown over my mother's death."
Kay grimaced, shoving herself deeper into the cushion. "I am zero for zero on the sensitive questions today, huh?"
Diantha laughed. "I wouldn't have you any other way, dear Kay."
The silence that followed worried Diantha that she might have overstepped, using the endearment too soon.
Kay shrugged. "Might as well make it three bad questions and strike out completley: so what the fuck happened with you?"
Adjusting herself, Diantha nodded. Anxiety had risen in her chest, leaving a lightness in her limbs, but she would push through as promised. "I'll try to spare you every detail, but…"
Sitting alone at the bar, Diantha looked down at the ring on her hand, mind floating in a cocktail sea of whiskey, rum, and some third drink she couldn't remember, she was positive people actually remembered their weddings. Or, at the very least, had more memories that went beyond the moment the preacher said, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace", and being desperate for someone, anyone, to stand up.
The wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of a woman's life.
Or so she had been told.
Three years had passed, and she was still waiting for that feeling to come.
Three years had passed, and they weren't even spending their anniversary together. At least, she thought it was their anniversary. Kathi Lee had to remind her multiple times the previous years, and had been giving similar reminders all month.
Maybe it wasn't the day yet.
Maybe she still had time to be a decent wife and actually try this year.
Though, if she were being honest, she would admit that all he would get out of her was a card Kathi Lee probably picked out, and sex he didn't have to talk her into.
A sound that vaguely resembled her name caught her attention, her hand falling off to the side of her glass.
Turning in her chair, closer than she had expected, her co-star from her most recent film, Candy. Tall, pale, and blonde she almost reminded Diantha of someone else, tall, pale, and blonde. Someone she was distinctly not supposed to be thinking about ever again -but in truth thought about every time they kissed on set.
With her was Chris, her boyfriend, a shorter white man who might as well have stepped out of a set wardrobe for Friends in the late '90s.
Candy, unlike the other person -who Diantha was now suddenly thinking far too much about- was nothing short of wild. A thirty year old wildfire. Always the life of the after parties, and normally didn't give Diantha the time of day off set.
"Girl, you look like you're having the worst night," Candy said, flanking the opposite side of her partner.
She shrugged, reaching back to grab her drink. "Certainly had better."
Chris leaned in too closely on her left, and he smelled strongly of body odor. He needed a better deodorant.
Candy laughed, putting a hand on her leg, hand too close to her inner thigh. A good wife would have shoved the hand off; especially if that hand looked like a past lover's.
Diantha never considered herself much of a good wife, anyways.
When Candy leaned in, she didn't shy away.
"I can get you something that would help you feel better. Bet we'd all have a fun night," she said, voice dropping with innuendo.
Diantha smiled, unsure if she was supposed to feel as flattered as she did. "Any other night, and I might have said yes, but unfortunately, my husband has been on my case lately," she said. At least, as far as what was likely a drug offer. The physical offer would have been a hard no.
Despite how downhill things were with Mel, she wouldn't cheat.
Plus, Chris reeked, and at least her husband was always good for smelling nice.
Though up until now Candy hadn't given her much thought, Diantha knew from the beginning that Candy had those kinds of connections. It was the number one rumor about her, and the unfortunate thing about Hollywood rumors is that most of them were true.
Drugs and disordered eating was how most the women around her stayed skinny.
Candy whined in an exaggerated way. "Your husband is so not fun, D!"
"You don't know the half of it," Diantha said, downing the last of her drink, getting a very strong whiff of Chris as she did so, messing with the taste of the beverage.
How she dealt with such a smelly man, Diantha wasn't sure.
Chris started saying something to her, a crude joke about her husband's performance in bed, but a flash of hot pink across the room snagged her attention.
A tall woman, with bright pink hair, and red skinny jeans that were bright enough to burn a hole in someone's retina.
Malva Burgess.
A local reporter, and someone Diantha had only met a few times up to that point. Something about the woman had always had a clear effect on Diantha; finding herself drawn to her in ways she had a hard time putting into words.
If Candy was a wildfire, then Malva was fire incarnate, a reborn phoenix with the attention she demanded.
Diantha was overwhelmed with the desire to be burned.
She stared for probably too long, but Candy and Chris talked idly beside her.
"There's someone I wasn't expecting to see," Diantha commented.
Candy followed her eyes, never removing her hand. "Oh," she purred. "Must have heard there were a bunch of big names here."
Chris's arm was behind her. "Surprised they'd let the media in."
Diantha wanted to laugh. It wasn't the most exclusive club the cast had picked for their wrap party. "I doubt she's here on business," she said, feeling her words slurring even more. She had officially reached her cut-off point.
Mel had long-stopped giving her the doting and caring sort of attention when she returned home in such a state.
With her current state, she was looking at a lecture. Probably a loud one.
"I think- I've been meaning to talk to her," Diantha said, placing her glass down behind her with a bit of a slam so she could stand.
Candy's hand was instantly at her waist. "C'mon, D, at least let me buy you another drink," she said.
Diantha stumbled as she tried to pull out of her grip, Chris quick to catch her by the arm.
"Steady there," he said.
Hot.
Her whole body was hot.
They were both standing too close.
She didn't want another drink.
She wanted to stop the hot-flash.
The next thing she knew she was halfway across the room, Candy trying to coax her back to the bar.
He hand caught someone's arm in a death-grip.
She didn't remember walking across the club.
"Hey there, Superstar."
She didn't recognize the voice.
Loud. The bass of the music was becoming too loud. The heat of the room a blazing inferno.
Pink.
Pink.
Pink.
She wanted the pink.
She tried to say as much.
Arguing.
A protective hand around her.
In the haze of blonde and pink, all she could think was how much she suddenly missed Cynthia. Sweet, sweet Cynthia. Cynthia who had never pressed her boundaries. Who had all the patience in the world.
Pink.
She was being asked something by the pink. Worried.
In the back of her hazy mind, she knew something was wrong.
Before she could even attempt to try and say as much, she was out cold, plunged into a deep sleep.
A small stone wall, overlooking a lake. A patch of sun streaming through the trees, their leaves in full autumn colors. A cold breeze, but a warm partner, and even warmer conversation.
None of the words she could make out, but she was positive it was Cynthia.
Her long blonde bangs fell down into her face, and when Diantha reached up to brush them out of her face, Cynthia leaned into her touch.
She still couldn't hear a single word, the dream deathly silent.
She missed her voice.
She couldn't remember her voice.
She started crying.
When she woke up, tears were falling down her face, a hand squeezing her's tight.
Eyes adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lighting, she tried desperately to get her bearings. A hospital room. An IV in her arm. Oxygen tubing. Itchy patches along her chest -likely heart monitor related.
It wasn't her first time waking up like this.
"It's alright, you're with me," the voice said.
Siebold.
Looking in his direction, he was sitting in a chair pulled up next to her bed, careful around all the tubing. He was dressed in his work clothes, a stain of something red on his shirt with a clean cutoff from where his apron would be.
For the life of her, she couldn't piece together what had happened.
"What happened?" she asked.
He squeezed her hand again. "I need you to tell me that. I only have a vague account from the woman who called the ambulance for you."
A woman.
That was vaguely familiar.
"Who?" she asked.
"She said her name is Malva...Burgess I think?" he answered, moving closer to take both her hands into his.
He was shaking.
Rolling the name over in her mind, pieces started falling back into place. "I think- someone put something in my drink. One minute I was fine, and the next- it's all a blur."
He nodded, lips pressing into a thin line.
He was holding back crying.
It had been a few months since they last saw one another in person, and here she was making him cry.
Not a great start.
"That's what Malva told me."
She looked around the room, finding only signs of him being in the room. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, my dear-" Hell, she was glad he was here over Mel. "-But why are you here?" she asked.
He looked away from her. "Mel...refused to come. He apparently told the hospital staff to call me. It's probably better I'm here, because otherwise I might be out kicking his ass."
Her heart plummeted in her chest.
"I won't repeat any of the things he said when I called him to chew him out," he added.
She squeezed his hand. "What did he say?" she asked.
He shook his head, clearly regretting saying as much.
"Tell me what he said, Siebold," she said, forcing as much of an edge to her voice as she could.
"He...he said he was done feeding your bad habits. He thinks you did this on purpose, but I-"
"Siebold, I swear, this was an accident, I didn't do-" she interrupted, voice tinged with tears.
He reached up to move her hair away from her face. "I know," he said in a soothing voice. "I believe you. I do. I promise."
Not long after, the nurse came in, giving her an account of what had happened. Her drink had been spiked with a dangerous level of rohypnol. She had already figured that much.
Did she want to involve the police?
No.
Her career had already faced enough jeopardy as it was. Police would just attract the media, and the media would eat her alive -if they weren't already doing so.
Thinking on it, the woman who had rescued her was a reporter. Her career was as good as over. She'd never hear the end of it from Mel.
Once the nurse left to get the doctor to go over release options, she felt the tears rising back to the surface.
Siebold released one hand, reaching up to wipe her tears away. "Diantha-"
"Just leave me here to die, Siebold," she blurted out, unsure of where it even came from. "I'm ruined- I've ruined myself- just let me die already," she continued.
He moved closer, and any further so, he would have to be up on the bed with her. His arm was back around her, putting her in a protective hold. "You are not ruined, Diantha."
She tried to fight back, but words refused her. All she could do was continue to cry. Absolutely sob into Siebold, unable to even get a coherent word out. Cry until she was ready to pass out once more.
It wouldn't be the last time they had a conversation of a similar nature.
And even after Malva would reach out to let her know that she wouldn't sell her out for the world, Diantha's anxiety about her ruined self only resulted in further self-medication…
Having auditions go bad. Not getting along with costars and other cast members was never any fun. Having multiple bad takes could be frustrating.
Getting dropped from a role, however, was a whole new low for Diantha.
She didn't even have the energy to fight the director on it. She had hoped to be able to see her last booked role to the end, but had been unable to manage it. Never showing up on time, picking fights with anyone and everyone; name it and she had likely done it, dragging every last thread of her image through the mud.
She was at least glad they weren't at the halfway mark yet, that way they didn't have to reshoot a whole film just because she couldn't get her act together for more than six seconds at a time.
Explaining the whole ordeal to Mel would be another challenge.
Despite the blowup with her parents and Kathi Lee, she had yet to get the courage to actually leave him.
To her credit, she had tried. She would start packing what little she couldn't stand to part with, only to end up talking herself out of it, putting everything back in its place, and if Mel happened to catch on, she would simply blame it on a whim to redecorate or get organized.
Sometimes, she would do all that, and make it as far as her car before turning tail.
Twice now, she had made it to Siebold, stayed a night, and went right back the next morning, too terrified of facing his wrath over her leaving. His irritation at an "unplanned stayover with a friend" was far more tolerable.
She was sure Siebold would eventually give up on her.
Sitting far too long in her car, parked in the garage, she found herself wishing he would simply kick her out, throwing divorce papers at her as he did so. It was only when the July heat began to seep into the car she forced herself out.
The underpass offered little reprieve as she walked across to the house, the air was still.
Similar to the outside, the inside of the house was eerily still. It wasn't all that unusual for their home to be quiet. With no pets and no children, the only abundance of noise ever came from visiting family, and that certainly hadn't happened since the winter holidays.
Not even the faint sounds of cleaning staff, which she was sure were supposed to be there that day -provided it even was the day she thought it was.
For the life of her, she couldn't remember if Mel's car had been in the garage or not.
Walking through the house, she discarded her purse on one of the kitchen counters, and began to take her hair out of its braid, falling over her shoulder in waves, intent on heading up the stairs to their bathroom to take a long soak.
Instead, in the den, she found Mel.
She hesitated in the archway.
He sat on the couch, leaned forward into his hands.
The air went from still to tense.
Diantha felt a lightness flowing into her limbs, like she wanted to run away. A reaction, she knew deep down, a husband wasn't supposed to give her.
"Darling?" she said, carefully.
He looked up at her, remaining in his spot. "Anything you need to fess up to?" he asked.
She wanted to lie, or at the very least, hold off on telling him about losing the role, but her mouth betrayed her. "I was cut from-"
He was quick to cut her off. "I figured that with how much your damn director has been up my ass to get you under control. Anything else?"
She wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't come.
She tried to confess to wanting to leave him, but her mouth refused to betray her a second time.
"What?" Was all she could manage to ask.
"Nothing at all?" he asked, voice low.
She shook her head. "Darling, can we get this over with? I have clearly had a horrible day."
The sight of him rolling his eyes at her should have incited anger in her, but instead, she felt herself mentally retreating, switching over to an auto-pilot of some sort to get through whatever argument was about to happen.
He grumbled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a little black box, the sight of which was enough to cause a painful skip in Diantha's chest, her whole body seizing up.
"You know, there's only so many times I'll believe you getting a wild hair about reorganizing your closet," he began, holding the little box in his hands. "Most people, when they actually reorganize, don't shove all their shit back in the same spot."
Already, she found herself on the defense. "I don't go through your things, why would you go through mine?" she asked.
"You don't get to ask any questions until you've answered mine," he said, standing up, the motion fast enough to make her flinch. "Who have you really been going to see?" he asked.
"Siebold," she answered, voice wavering.
"You get one last chance to tell me the truth," he said.
As he began to step around the coffee table, she found herself backing into the kitchen.
"Who else would I spend time with? He's my oldest friend," she said.
He was clearly unconvinced. "You really expect me to believe you're having that many 'girls nights' with Siebold? You must think I'm really fucking stupid," he accused.
"I would never," she said.
Getting too close, she moved herself to put the island counters between them.
"Then explain these rings!" he said. The raise in his voice was enough to paralyze her against the counters, but for now, he kept his distance.
"They're old- they're from before us!" she defended.
"For who?" he asked.
"Why does it matter?" she asked.
He threw the box on the ground, breaking the top off its hinge. "Who?" he demanded.
She felt her eyes beginning to water. "Cynthia. The woman I dated before you."
His hands were in tight fists at his side. "Is that who you've really been sneaking off to see?" he asked.
She tried to open her mouth to speak, the accusation so wild, she couldn't form words.
"Hell, I bet you didn't even actually have a role this past month! Just another excuse to sneak away with some nameless, worthless woman!" he continued, his gestures with his hands getting wider.
"I haven't seen her in years, and I would never do that to you, Mel," she defended, her voice barely holding.
She had certainly considered it a time or two, but thinking about it and actually going through with it were two different things.
"Then why the fuck do you still have those?" he growled.
The truth was that it was a reminder for herself. A reminder of everything she had given up. A reminder of the last truly good time in her life. A reminder of the only time in her life another person had made her feel completely and unconditionally loved.
"I'm a sentimental person, you know that," she said, knowing the truth would get her in further trouble.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
The remainder of the case and ring was crushed below his heel as he moved around the counter.
Every muscle in her body screamed for her to run, to get away, but her body refused to listen, paralyzed with fear in the corner of the counters.
Rough hands.
Horrible names.
Further accusations of cheating.
Things no loving husband would ever even think of.
The sun had long set by the time her body had stopped being able to produce tears as she huddled on the ground, back against the lower cabinets.
Mel had stormed off at some point, leaving her alone in the house that was too large and too cold.
Everything was sore.
She tried to pick herself up, but was unable to do so.
In the midst of it all, her purse had been knocked to the ground, just out of arm's reach. A soft buzzing came from inside. She could just barely make out a blue glow as it rang on silent.
She grunted as she leaned forward, begging herself to push through the pain to reach for it.
Just barely hooking the straps of the purse on her nail, she was able to drag it forward, falling back into the cabinets, sending another dull pain up her back.
On the last ring, as she pulled the device out with Siebold's contact picture displaying on the screen, she managed to slide it to answer. She searched the screen for the speaker option, taking a moment to find it.
"Diantha?" he asked from the other end, clearly worried.
"Siebold," she said, feeling another round of tears coming on.
"Diantha, are you alright?"
"Help," she said.
"Where are you?" he asked, a frantic shuffle coming across the line.
"Home."
"I will be right there- stay on the phone with me- get out of my way! Move!" He grumbled as he shoved through some people on his end. He was probably at his father's restaurant.
A slew of "I will be there"s followed, but Diantha began to tune them out, head lolling to the side. The sink's cabinet was within reach. There's was probably a bottle of bleach in there...
In the dim glow of the phone's light, she caught sight of something her purse had pulled along with it. The ring.
She hoped the other one was still safe in her closet.
Picking it up, judging by its size, it would have been Cynthia's ring.
A choked sob escaped her.
"I am on my way, I promise," Siebold said from his end.
She thought she couldn't cry anymore, but the sight of the obsidian ring, a size too large as it slid down her index finger, brought about a new wave of tears.
Cynthia would have never done any of this to her…
She looked over at the sink cabinet again, spinning the ring around her finger slowly. She forced herself to look away, concentrating only on the weight of the ring and Siebold's voice…
She wasn't sure how long it was before Siebold finally got there. More than ever, she was thankful she had managed to sneak him a key, because she was still unable to get herself to stand.
The door distantly opened, but she heard no slam, only frantic footsteps.
Despite knowing it was Siebold, her heart picked up in her chest, unable to settle down until she was positive it wasn't Mel.
"Diantha," he said, dropping down to her side. He sounded like he had been punched in the gut.
She reached out to grab him. He was warm.
She tried to speak, but couldn't find what to say.
"What happened?" he asked, carefully hooking a hand behind her back, the other under her knees.
She waited for him to get her settled into his arms so he could properly stand. She couldn't remember the last time she had been bridal carried. Probably not since Mel was still trying to win her over.
"Mel found my old engagement ring for Cynthia. He got mad," she answered, voice scratchy.
His hands flexed under her, but he kept them moving, carrying her back towards the door. "I want you to come home with me for now. We'll come back when you're better, and we'll get your things."
She nodded, not needing to refute. It was what she wanted as well.
"Do you want me to call the police?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Please don't. I don't want to deal with it, I don't want to be questioned and not believed, and-" She stopped, too pained to speak.
"I'm at least taking you to the hospital," he said.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to turn her back on the metaphorical city that was burning behind her and walk away. Walk away from it all and never look back.
But she also knew she was in a world of pain, and after everything Mel had just put her through, an ER visit was the least she could do for herself.
The city behind her was burning to the ground, and it would be a long time before she stopped feeling the flames at her back...
Diantha had met Siebold's boyfriend, Cress, a time or two up to that point. She hadn't been around him long enough to form a proper opinion of him. At best, her opinion was a positive-leaning neutral. Siebold had always talked highly of him, and was clearly smitten.
She ended up meeting his triplet brothers, Cilan and Chili, on the same day, Siebold having asked for their help in moving her things out.
By the end of that whirlwind of a day, she would have said she was willing to lay down her life for all three of them.
Siebold had also enlisted Grant's help, an old mutual friend of his and Diantha's that she hadn't seen in a number of years. His primary role had been to hold back Siebold, who was ready to have a go at Mel anytime he dared to try to come back into the house.
Through it all, word had somehow managed to not get out, and the day, while exhausting, at least didn't turn into a media spectacle.
Back at Siebold's house, her boxes had been placed haphazardly around the living room. She knew there was plenty she had left behind, but had decided whatever it was, wasn't worth the hassle. Mel could throw out all her old clothes on his own time. She wanted to be out. She wanted to be free.
She sat with Siebold on the couch, having been banned from doing any of the lifting all day.
Grant and Cress had been laughing about something, when Cilan came in last, setting a rather large box down on the coffee table in front of Diantha.
Thus far, he had said maybe all of two words to her, Siebold telling her prior that he tended to be painfully shy.
"I thought we already got the last of everything?" Diantha asked.
He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Yes, we did get all of your things, but I took it upon myself to grab every last roll of toilet paper, all the batteries out of everything I could think of, a lot of lightbulbs, toothpaste, his contact solution, the lids to all the contact cases, I changed the wifi password to gibberish, set all the parental controls on the tv so he can't watch much of anything without having to factory reset it, and then Chili and I moved all furniture downstairs in the living room just off an inch or two so he'd always bump into everything, and set the thermostat to as high as it would go and jammed the control panel so he'll have to replace it to fix the temperature."
Chili instantly laughed. "I thought the furniture thing wasn't petty enough, but damn! You really are my brother!"
Cress breathed a laugh, taking a seat next to Siebold. "I fully expect something like that from Chili, not you."
She tried to thank him. To say it was somehow the most petty yet sweet thing anyone had done for her, but the second she opened her mouth to speak, she started crying. Ugly crying. Not her pretty stage crying.
Apologies were instantly falling out of Cilan left and right.
Fighting through the tears, she managed to let him know she wasn't mad.
She was happier in that moment than she had been in years.
Three men she barely knew. Two men she had known most of her life.
Not a day the rest of her life would go by where she wouldn't be thankful for the five of them coming together to help rescue her in her darkest hour.
Divorce wasn't going to be pretty. Whatever drug and alcohol recovery she could get into would likely not be pretty, either. Regardless, there were good people in her corner, and that would hopefully be enough.
She would also go on to take up Malva's offer on her shark of a lawyer friend, who thankfully had a good divorce lawyer recommendation. She didn't need or want any of Mel's money. She just wanted to be done with him.
Done with him.
Her parents.
Kathi Lee.
Hollywood as a whole.
She was tired of doing what others wanted her to do. It was time to start doing what she wanted to do.
She wasn't sure what the future had in store for her, but she was at least sure that it had to be far better than what she was leaving behind…
AN::
i have no clue how quickly i'll be able to work on the next chapter, seeing as this one was finished in advance, but i did want to thank everyone for the warm welcome back (´▽`)
this chapter was a heavy hitter, so thanks for hanging in there with me. it should be smooth sailing from here on out~
-Kellyn
