A single, naked light bulb, dangling from the center of the room provided the only light in the dingy, sparsely furnished room. Molly Hanks could almost feel the depressing isolation creeping up her spine, as she moved slowly, and cautiously to the chair seated opposite the glass. She nervously fingered the tag pinned to her shirt. It labeled her a "Visitor". She gazed at it in the glass for a long moment, as if contemplating a secret meaning to that single, simple word. Then, frozen in fear, and sadness, she stared, wide-eyed at the door on the other side of the glass. She knew that any second, Derian Hanks would come through it, and it would begin. There was no turning back.
Catching her reflection in the glass, she gave a slight gasp, and began rummaging in her handbag for the little make-up compact she kept there. Pulling it out, she popped open the top and looked into the mirror, fervently pushing her long blonde curls back behind her ears. Gently using the make-up pad to dab at the large bruise on her left cheekbone, trying to cover it the best she could. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and blood-shot from crying on the drive over. Wincing in pain, as she dabbed a little too hard, her eyes began to tear up...her head began to swim...and a memory surfaced...
Her wedding day. Ten years earlier. She was standing, naked, in front of the mirror in her bedroom, applying her makeup. She wanted to look perfect for this day...the most important day of her life. Softly brushing the pink blusher onto her cheeks. After carefully applying her soft, pink lipstick, she stood back from the glass, to gaze admiringly at the young woman who stood before her. It had taken her years to shed the weight she had gained in high school. She had been more than 200lb, before she decided she just couldn't live with herself anymore. That was the day she filled the bathtub with hot water, and soaked in a bubble bath, before finally slitting her wrists. Fortunately, her mother came in to let her know that dinner was ready. She was rushed to the emergency room, where doctors were able to stop the bleeding and stitch her up. Molly spent the next eight months in Twin Oaks Hospital, a psychiatric hospital for young adults. She had just turned seventeen.
Absently, she brought her wrists up to inspect the tell-tale scars there, then let arms drop to her sides. Snapping back from her brief reverie, she sat down at the vanity, and began pinning her hair up, preparing it for the head-dress and veil that would soon adorn it.
Flash forward two years...Derian had lost his job. Derian Hanks was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. She had met him three years earlier while working nights, waiting tables at Benny's Diner. They dated for a year, before he asked her to marry him. Things were great. They were madly in love, with a bright future ahead of them. She was finishing school, working toward her degree, and he was actively pursuing his dream of being a contractor. Things had gone along fine, until Derian came home one day, and told her he had been let go. Of course, she later came to find out, that he had been fired, because he kept showing up to the job site drunk.
He was arrested for the first time, almost three months later, for drunken disorderly conduct, and attempted assault. He spent two nights in jail, then Molly bailed him out. Four months later, he hit her for the first time. They were arguing about him not finding a job, and she suggested that maybe he drank a little too much. His hand flew up and caught her sharply across her left cheekbone. The ring he wore, left a small gash, and a large bruise. Of course, he was instantly sorry, and vowed never to do it again. Things were okay for the next few weeks. He left the house every morning, apparently going to a job he told her he had gotten. A month later, he was arrested again. This time for assault, and resisting arrest. He called, sobbing into the phone, about loving her, and saying that he wasn't a good husband. It broke her heart. He told her to come down to the police station to bail him out. When she told him that she wasn't sure there was enough money for a bail bond in their account right now, he exploded in a fit of blind rage, and began cursing her and told her that if she didn't get that money and get down there to bail him out, she would pay in ways she couldn't even fathom.
She didn't know what to do. This was not the man she had married. She didn't even know where this man had come from. He was like a monster. But, when he was sober, he was the picture-perfect husband. Frightened, she pulled together every available resource, and even sold a few pieces of jewelry.
Three weeks after she bailed him out for the third time, they were in the heat of yet another argument. She had had enough, and told him that if he didn't get help, she would leave him. He had beaten her so brutally, that she wasn't able to walk for a week. He told her that if she ever tried to leave him, he'd kill her.
Molly felt like a prisoner. She didn't want to leave Derian. She loved him so much, and knew in her heart that this wasn't him. She wept remembering their honeymoon in the Caribbean, and how much fun they'd had. It broke her heart to think that in such a short time, he had simply turned on her. It just couldn't be.
Now, here she sat. In yet another jail, visiting her husband. She hadn't been terribly surprised, when she had received the call early that morning. The officer had told her, that they had picked up Derian, he was drunk and possibly had been involved in an armed robbery. He was drunk when they found him, wandering the street. He was carrying a loaded gun, and a lot of cash. While they were putting the handcuffs on him, he had taken a swing at one of the officers.
The door on the other side of the glass opened, and her husband stepped through it. He looked like death warmed over. His usually clean, soft, blonde hair, hung in damp ringlets around his forehead, and there was a deep gash over his left eye. His lip also appeared to be bleeding, though it was not immediately apparent where the wound actually originated from. He approached the glass with a slightly dazed look, and walked straight into it. He was still drunk. She cringed, as his head struck the glass, and he staggered backward into the waiting guard.
The guard led him to a chair at the table, and sat him down. Molly moved to sit once again in the chair, and stared at him. No matter how many times she had seen this...it still never ceased to amaze her, that this was the same man she had married little more than two years ago. The kind, gentle soul that had once been Derian Hanks, was now...this. This drunken, pitiful sight.
"Hello, Derian," she said.
He just stared, bleary eyed, at her. His head kept falling slightly forward, as if he was having a hard time holding it up. Finally finding his voice, he sat straight up, and said,
"Well? Go ahead and say it. I know you want to. I know you want to b***h at me about my drinking too much, or tell me what a loser I am. So, go ahead. I don't care. 'Cause you can just go to hell! I don't have to listen to one goddamn word you say."
Molly just sat there, as his words struck her one after the other. She wondered, briefly, if he had any idea how much his harsh words brutalized her. She guessed that he did. She carefully considered what he had said. Then, he spoke again,
"Oh, you know what, I can't deal with your look. I want to get the f**k out of here. I can't even stand to look at you right now. I'm hungry, too. You can't get a good meal in this s**t-house."
Molly, stood, and began collecting her things. She stopped, when he spoke again,
"So...I should be outta here in...what? A couple hours? Call that Larry Lacey, guy...the attorney I used last time. He was good, and not too expensive..."
Molly, shook her head, slowly, and looked him right in the eye as she said,
"Derian...I love you. I've always loved you. I've always stood by you, and believed you when you said everything would be alright. I have loved you drunk, or sober. No matter what. But, I've realized recently, that I am no longer 'in love' with you. I can't play this game with you, any longer...and I won't. It's tiring, and totally unrewarding. I need more out of life, Derian...and you don't appear to be able to give it to me. I'm sorry things turned out the way they did, but I've also come to realize, that it's not my fault."
Derian's eyes opened wide, as they filled first with tears, then with rage. He exploded before her very eyes, and began beating his fists on the glass, clawing it trying to get to her. She stood, stock still, her eyes glazed over, as she watched the spectacle.
"You b***h! GOD! Why do you always gotta be such a raging b***h?! Everything I've ever done, I've done for you! I can't believe you're getting so upset over this! What is wrong with you? Alright. Just bail me out, and we'll work this out, baby. Things are gonna change, from now on, no more drinking. I promise."
Molly's eyes filled with fresh tears, and in her mind, she heard that tiny voice, which had once been loud and strong, but had grown weak and frail over the past few months. It said, 'What if he really does stop drinking, and really does try harder? What if this really is it?' But, the other voice, which she hadn't heard until a few weeks ago, answered, 'Yeah..but what if he doesn't? And, what if it isn't? What then?' As the tears flowed down her cheeks, she had the overwhelming urge to hug her husband, but at the same time, she was so sad, she knew she just couldn't bear to be that close to him. Her heart ached with sadness, as she turned to make her way to the door.
Derian, began knocking frantically on the glass,
"Molly? Baby?? Please...we can work this out. Please, just don't leave me. I love you, baby. Please! YOU'RE MY WIFE, d****t!"
Soon, his knocking turned into frenzied banging, then pounding, he wailed as a guard began to drag him away. Molly called another guard, to release her from the room, then turning, she pointed to the tag pinned to her shirt and said sadly,
"No, Derian...I'm just a visitor."
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