In The Pursuit of Success

Empathy & Emergency

Hey, look! An update! o:

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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"Dez…?" a familiar and gentle voice flutters into the ears of the young filmmaker. He shifts a bit, trying to pull himself back into consciousness. "Dez, are you okay?" the voice asks. Dez opens his eyes to his younger sister, hovering above him with a look of worry. He sits himself up, slowly and steadily, collecting himself after the sudden collapse.

"What happened?" he asked, looking up at Didi with light-sensitive, squinting eyes.

"You passed out," she responds plainly, shrugging. This isn't a highly unusual thing coming from her brother. His emotions – be it fear, surprise, excitement, or anger – can get the best of him from time to time. There's only so much that his feeble body can take. "You were yelling at Trish over the phone something fierce, and then you fainted."

"Oh," Dez replies, staring up at her with guilt-ridden eyes, recollecting the whole ordeal bit by bit. He captures his head in his hands and cradles it, replaying the scene in his mind over and over. He cannot remember the last time he had spoken so harshly to anyone. And to Trish, of all people. He bites down hard on his lower lip, furious – at himself, this time. He sits like this for about a minute or so before his sister speaks up.

"Dez?" she asks again, worried at his lack of response.

"I screwed up, Didi," he states, lifting his head from his hands, lips reddened from biting, to look her in the eyes. "Why didn't you stop me?" he accuses her, eyes now glazed over.

"You're blaming me for this, now? Dez, this is your mess," Didi snaps at him.

"I know, I know…" he responds, letting out a shaky sigh. "I just thought I'd feel better if I blamed you."

"Yeah? And did it work?"

"No," he groans, shaking his head and looking down as he pulls his knees closer to his body. He hugs onto them for support. "And you're right. This is my mess. I have to clean it up."

"I've been telling him to clean his room for ages, Didi, how'd you get him to agree?" their mother asks jokingly as she stops outside the door to Dez's room. She had clearly missed the rest of the conversation.

"Mom, this isn't about his room," Didi informs her mother, turning to face her while fidgeting nervously.

"Oh…Well does this involve the cops or any other authorities?" Donna asks her children, shifting her eyes back and forth between them warily.

"No, mom," Dez says, still hugging his knees and keeping his gaze down at the floor in front of him. Donna frowns at the boy. Sure, she is quite a busy woman, but knows that she cannot just abandon her son in his time of need.

"Honey…Is there anything I can do? Do you need to talk?" she offers, fixating her gaze on her son curled up on the floor.

"Don't worry, mom, I'm handling this," Didi reassures her mother. "I'll…Let you know if I need any help." Donna nods, giving Dez one more look of concern before heading off on her way to work. Didi turns back around to her brother.

"We should call Trish back, Dez. You need to apologize to her," Didi demands, swiping his cellphone off of the table she had left it on and holding it out to him.

"What's the point?" Dez asks her stubbornly, swatting the phone away. "She's never going to forgive me after that, Didi." He looks up at her, his eyes weak, reddened, and watery. "I screwed up. Big time."