Desole is a troubled teenage rock who tours with MCR and ends up finding love, drugs, more than she bargained for. Prelude to "Goodbye And Goodluck"
“Desolé, what in the world do you think you’re doing?” My mother snapped in her obnoxious French accent, chasing me as I stormed off to my bedroom. I ignored her with my back still turned and snagged a suit case from underneath my bed.
“Desolé, answer me this instant!” she shouted as I turned toward my dresser. I slumped my shoulders in frustration and tuned around to face her. She looked like a falcon with silver hair tied up in a tight bun and long beak-like nose. Every day I looked at her and every day I noticed a new wrinkle or a new flaw on her face. It was as if time was slipping away from fast and faster.
“I’m leaving, ma! What does it look like?” I yelled in her face. She looked taken aback and I took the opportunity to raid my drawers and pack my essentials.
I was sick of living here again. When I was fifteen I ran away for about a year but ended up being driven home in a cop car. It had been two years afterward and I was so infuriated I couldn’t take it anymore. Just being in the same room with my mother was insufferable! She had always been a tight ass but she turned into a physco bitch after my father and younger sister died. My restlessness only got worse after I dropped out of high school. Mom cried for two hours about how I was throwing my life away.
“Oh no you don’t! I am not having you run off and becoming a hooker again!” She shouted. I wanted to strangle her! Why was she always such a bitchy pain in the ass?
“I WASN’T A HOOKER, MOM! I WAS AN EXOTIC DANCER, OKAY?” I bellowed at her as I continued to throw under wear and other clothes in my suite case. She always called me a hooker just because I worked in a strip club after I ran away from home. What else was I supposed to do? I was living in an alley way living off of stolen beans and rice!
“Don’t you take that tone with me!” she yelled, her neck veins popping out and her eyes bulging. She looked more like a falcon than ever when she was angry.
“Shut UP you stupid HAG!” I screamed, throwing the last of my clothes into my bag and storming toward the door. She looked appalled at me and tried to stand in front of me. I literally shoved her out of my path.
“I’ll call the cops!” she threatened. I scoffed and skipped down the stairs two at a time, hearing her foot steps as she followed me.
“Go ahead! I’ll long gone before they get here Beatrice.” I taunted, calling her by her first name.
“Oh you insightful little shrew! I ought a teach you some manners!” She growled. I turned around to face her when I reached the front door.
“GO RIGHT AHEAD, BITCH!” I shrieked. Her eyes looked like they would pop right out her head and her face turned bright red with anger. I was about to scoff again when she slapped me right across my right cheek. I deserved it, but it just gave me all the more reason to want to escape.
“God mom! I can’t stay here anymore! Its like every day you suck the oxygen out of this house more and more! I can’t breathe around you! I can’t stand you! I feel like I’m trapped in this damn house with all of these bad memories!” I gasped, clutching my burning hot cheek.
“Well maybe if you hadn’t dropped out of high school a week before graduation, you’d get out more!” she spat at me.
“Y’know why I dropped out? TO PISS YOU OFF!” I yelled at her. She went to slap me again up I grabbed her wrist before her hand could reach me. Our eyes met for a split second before I tossed her wrist aside so hard and fast that she actually fell down.
I stared at her for a moment. She looked like she was about to burst into tears. We always fought like this. She used to throw dishes at me and slap me and even gave me a black eye one time. I’d done so much worse than just knocking her down though. I had spit on her, slapped her, and pulled her hair. She always hit first and when I hit her back she never retaliated, she only cried. And I never felt sorry for her.
“See ya.” I muttered as I skulked out the door. I heard her start to cry as I slammed it shut. She yelled something about calling the police, but I wasn’t worried. She was too much of a pussy to do it.
I loved my mom. And she loved me, I think. Even though I’d broken her heart so badly and so many times that she didn’t even have one anymore she at least tried to love me. She tried to be a good mom but all it did was piss me off. Some people aren’t meant to have kids and she was one of those people. When my dad was alive he always kept her in check but when he died she went berserk. We were so much alike that we butt heads constantly get then tension just builds and builds until we explode at each other, like what just happened. Things rarely led to physical confrontations, but when they did I made sure that she knew I was nobody’s bitch.
It was really cold outside because it was December in Seattle. Snow lined the shining black streets and filled the yards of the people in our little cul-de-sac. It was drizzling outside, freezing little water droplets and I didn’t have a jacket. In fact, all I had on was a faded Iron Maiden shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants. The only light guiding me was coming from the street lamps, all yellow and orange and flickering. The sky looked as though somebody had painted over the stars and the moon with dark gray paint. I wandered down the middle of the road figuring that nobody would be driving because it was one in the morning. Besides, getting hit by a car would only help my situation at this point.
Here I was, out on the streets again, alone and unwanted. I strolled leisurely through the chilly streets, my breath making what looked like smoke. Speaking of which, I needed a cigarette. I rummaged through my bag a little until I found my pack and a lighter and I lit it up. The smoke dried out my throat and the nicotine calmed my still fuming mind.
I was starting to wonder where I was walking to but then realized that I was headed in the direction of my best friend Milo’s house. I was slightly amused at how my feet automatically took me there without me even thinking about it. Milo had been my best friend since we were toddlers. He was always the one person I could count on, especially after my dad and sister passed away. The only time I remember really being away from him was when I ran away. I felt so guilty because apparently he cried every night hoping that I would come home.
I rounded the corner and heard faint police sirens going off. I cursed my mother under my breath and kept walking at my slow pace. I flicked my cigarette butt on the wet ground. The sirens were far off and I would be at Milo’s house any second.
When I reached his house the rain had picked up and it looked as though I had gotten there just in time because the sirens were getting closer and louder. I slung my bag over my shoulder and climbed over their big privacy fence and into their back yard. His parents didn’t like me much, nobody’s did, and would freak shit if they caught me doing this. I trudged through their muddy, grassy yard and frowned when I realized I would have to climb up to Milo’s second story bedroom with this heavy as suit case on my back.
I sighed and made my ascend up to his window using their trash can and their houses siding. When I was just in reach of his window, I stretched my arms up and wrapped on the wet glass with my knuckles. Then I waited a few seconds and sure enough Milo poked his out.
“Hey.” I beamed when I saw him. He looked highly unamused, but reached out his hand to help me up all the same. He pulled me through his window and I took a moment to let the warmth of his room spread through me as if I was stepping into a hot bath.
“Sweet Jesus Des! You’re soaked to the bone!” Milo hissed at me. We had to whisper otherwise his parents would come in and flip a thousand shits.
“Its raining outside!” I said defensively. Milo rolled his eyes and pulled a towel out of his closet and handed it to me.
“Hey, what’s with the suit case? You’re not planning on running off on me again?” he asked, sounding very concerned.
“No, we’re running off together.” I said, running the towel through my scraggly damp hair. Milo looked confused.
“What happened with your mom this time?” he asked. Poor Milo was all too used to me sneaking in his house in the wee hours of the morning.
“She started calling me a whore and shit! So I decided I wasn’t gonna take it and I packed my bags. Then she fucking slaps me in the face!” I explained angrily. Milo examined my cheek and sighed.
“And you fought back how?” he asked. I sighed a little bit too. He didn’t approve of me getting into fights with my mother.
“I kind of pushed her to the ground.” I said sheepishly.
“Desolé! What is wrong with you?” Milo scolded me. I frowned a little bit and rolled my eyes.
“A lot of things. Now can we please just go?” I begged, tugging on his hand.
“What are you talking about? You mean just pack up and leave?” Milo said, looked bewildered.
“Yes! Come on! Let’s just book it out of here!” I said, trying to lead him over to the window. He held me back a little bit and I was getting impatient.
“Desolé, I can’t just pick up and go. I can’t just abandon everything I’ve built up here! Life isn’t some little fantasy where you can just run away and everything will be fine! You need to face your problems or they’re just gonna get worse!” Milo said, sounding very much like a middle school teacher.
“Milo, you don’t understand-” I started. Milo held up his hand.
“Don’t you tell me that I don’t understand honey. I understand you better than anybody on this fucking planet so don’t you even think for a minute that you can get past me with that bullshit.” Milo said flatly. I groaned: he was absolutely right.
“Milo, if I stay in that house I’m either going to murder her or she’s going to murder me. And if I kill her, then the only time you’ll be seeing me is visiting day on Death Row.” I informed him.
“Well what did you have in mind?” He asked, his left eyebrow raised as he waited for me to explain to him my next bullshit plan.
“Remember when we were in middle school and our biggest dream was to be in a band?” I asked. Milo nodded apprehensively. “Well, since you still play bass and I learned how to sing I think we should start something!” I said excitedly. The idea had literally occurred to me less than two minutes ago. It was either become a musician or starve to death or get arrested at this point.
“You mean start a band, with just the two of us?” Milo said with a sarcastic laugh.
“No doofus! I mean get some friends who play instruments and start a band!” I encouraged. Milo thought for a moment and the shrugged. I heard the sirens getting louder and my stomach dropped.
“Shit, your mom called the cops?” Milo said, his eyes the size of dinner plates. I shrugged guiltily and he thought for a few more seconds. “Hm, I guess this could work out. Might be a shit load of fun too. Why not?” he pondered aloud. I was ecstatic.
“You mean you’ll do this with me?” I asked excitedly. Milo chuckled at my reaction.
“Of course, we do everything together. I think starting a band should be one of them.” he said, grabbing a duffel bag and starting to stuff it full of clothes. I helped him by raiding his closet and grabbing whatever I saw.
“Hey, what do you think we should call this band of ours?” Milo asked as we packed up the remainder of his things.
“Hm…I think we should call it ‘The Moment’.” I suggested. Milo furrowed his brow.
“Why that?” he asked.
“Because, this could be the moment.” I explained. Milo nodded in agreement and started to make his way out of the window.
And with that, we were off into the wild blue yonder, not yet having a clue what lay in store for us…