madness of Tess

chapter 12: Not cool 😓😥🥺

Never did Elysabeth have so much

been waiting for the weekend of his whole life. Yes, she had never felt that.

She hardly admits it, but she had never missed her mother so much, or even missed her. But she refuses to call her. Veronica would surely hear that things are not going well and she would do everything possible to get her daughter back... Elysabeth would be too weak to refuse her as she is psychologically exhausted. But his father always taught her to despise failure and giving up his job would be too much.

satisfy this bunch of rednecks and therefore fail. Today, Elysabeth is not

did not leave his office. The first meeting with this horrible Tess undoubtedly vaccinated her and she wanted to

be discreet to avoid the storm.

Then seriously, she threw up in front of her! When she thinks about it well... Who does that apart from the kids? And of course some quickly learned the

news and at the end of the day, it's all we talk about... About the way Tess bumped into Du Tonquin the old owl. It's his new

nic.

It's finally the weekend. The young redhead intertwines her rosary between her hands until she burns her fingers.

If the Tess could disappear, that would be nice. If she could go back on sick leave, that would give her some respite. She looks at her piano. Hell, she hasn't touched it in ages... She dusts it off a bit and lets her fingers go... It's like cycling, you never forget it and Chopin fits like a glove. It's strange but she plays a little with her guts, wearing only a poncho under her bare skin. She vents her frustration and all the anger she feels against the

inhabitants here and against itself. She's ready to rip her fingers out

each note of music until crying from wear, until abandoning oneself.

She thinks, after an hour, exhausted enough to slip into bed.

She can't wait to get her first paycheck to buy a real bed from elsewhere.

But the hours pass and she can't sleep a wink... The scene with Figz

loops in his head and under his eyelids. It makes his stomach churn

to violent nausea. Betty turns around several times. The mattress is flat.

Damn, he must have drilled himself and damn it! She pulls up her knees

against his chin. Her hair is raining in a fountain all over her belly. In the dark, she inspects her body with her fingertips. It is sure, it is really not comparable to the body of Tesspeste. She's going to start calling him that too? At the same time, she deserves her nickname,

that witch! She vomited! So it amuses her to employ this kind of person? This Tess thinks she's someone but like all those others from we here, she must be nobody.

Elysabeth finds herself smiling

with great contempt. It doesn't look like him so much. However, she caresses her belly to the navel.

She loves her belly. But compared to Figz's well-defined abs, she doesn't measure up, she thinks...

She even comes to fondle her buttocks. Yeah, they're round but

those of Tess are firmer and more curved. How does this woman have such a body? She must spend hours sweating in a sportswear... It's not possible otherwise. Anyway, it works but the rest?

The shape of his revolver eyes and infinitely mocking and killer at the same time. yeah, Tess' eyes are special. She had never met a woman with eyes like that. Eve has almond eyes

but not like this. She smiles, ("At the same time Betty, you've never looked at a woman. There must be millions like that."). They are little hazelnuts which shine and which stretch towards the sky... And this mouth?

No, but what a mouth! Only reality TV social cases have mouths like that. His sister once told him, looking at a certain Kardashian or something like that, that she had a pipe mouth. Elysabeth had not understood the meaning of this expression. Does that mean Tess Figz has a head for smoking pipes? So she had plastic surgery? Looks like a plastic doll. It's infuriating this kind of perfection. Damn it, Elysabeth doesn't even realize she's staring at this monster's disgusting perfection. It is a sign sent by Jesus. Anything that's outwardly beautiful and overdone can be rotten on the inside. everything that is beautiful and perfect on the outside can be rotten on the inside.

we must not give credit to superficial things and be wary... Example, Pascale is almost sixty, her hair dye is badly done and she is really frumpy, almost toothless and always very badly made up. However, Ely realized today that this woman, although hyperactive and highly stressed, did not have a bad bottom like all the others. She was so embarrassed about the consequences of the morning's altercation on Elysabeth, that she offered her a chocolate and a cup of tea early in the afternoon and apologized fifty thousand times. with zeal. However, she could turn in a horror film or have her role in the Adams family...

That's enough ! It's one o'clock in the morning and Ely's eyes are wide open and filled with images. She stands up. She is so cramped between these walls! It's so pokey here! She can't take it anymore. Looks like we're strangling him. She wants to smash her head against the wall. But she won't. No, she's probably too afraid to arouse Christ's anger towards her... Furious, she gets on her legs,lack of exercise, that's for sure. DuTonquin slips a wool over her nudity. Yes, yes this airhead intends to come out naked under her wool...

She runs down the stairs without a sound.

The night is deep and disturbing. Lights are missing...

She advances without knowing where to go and immediately regrets. She had never gone out like that to visit the unknown. It's a little cold and she tightens the grip of her wool. The air seems to cut her skin. However, it does him good to escape his prison. She didn't even take her phone. It's true, in the midst of these barbarians, anything could happen to him. But determined to get rid of what's gnawing at her, this Tess, she walks hastily.

The city center is not so close and yet in twenty minutes, there it is right in the heart. The city seems dead. Damn, he misses Paris. From his bedroom,

she could hear life pounding the Parisian cobblestones, the incessant noise like a stream.

Here there is only muffled noise

and suffocating Ouvèze. The shutters here are closed. Nothing is open. She only notices her shadow, her ghost.

She stops in front of the church and makes a sign of the cross, a silent prayer to Mary. This place is the only one she

enjoy a little. What men have been able to do for God and she, what is she doing for God's sake?

Lost in thought, she jumps when a few drunken passers-by brush past her. She turns her head. There is music rising. At this hour ? Intrigued, she follows these few musical notes, almost unconscious. A young couple is kissing on the sidewalk.

She bypasses them. But Elysabeth still has the impression of violating their privacy. Their kiss, to these young people full of life, is more than languorous.

They puff their lips. She doesn't know what this feeling is. She only knows about kisses through her sister's speeches. Does she regret at her age having blocked the road leading

to his lips? No. At the same time, no young man has ever "courted" her. One day his turn will come.

One day, Jesus will lead her to a man, "a good match" as her father would say...

That day, she will be able to offer her lips and her body. Damn, she shuddered at his shameful thoughts.

Would his sister rub off on him after all?

Never ever ! ("It's tired Betty... You should go back to bed... You'll catch your death here.").

However, at no time does she turn around, not before discovering the place from which this music emanates. She crosses another alley. A guy is throwing up a ton of alcohol while swearing. Frightened, she quickens her pace. The street on the left is lit and lively. A bunch of people seem to chain cigarettes.

Some dance. Others howl with laughter. God, would his insomnia lead him to a place of debauchery?

She describes the location. It looks like a dance bar. It must be about to close because the music is quieter now. Cheerful people in the street begin to leave loudly. On the bay window of the bar, there is a large poster. There was a rock concert tonight. This explains it... Another poster catches his attention. He is looking for an artist to host a piano concert. Elysabeth approaches to look inside.

The decoration is really amazing and friendly,

quite retro with some rather abstract paintings and

stone walls. In the background, there is a rather well-sized stage with an electric guitar, drums and a piano. The waitress puts the

chairs and wipe the tables. She looks exhausted. She approaches a person

slumped on the counter to shake him and probably ask him to leave the bar for closing. The person stirs. She is dead drunk, a glass still full in her hand. It's a woman. Women shouldn't drink like that. It's ugly. The young woman pitches and catches herself on the counter in time. She can barely walk...

Damn, Elysabeth can't believe it... But it's Tess Figz! Oh she would recognize her among a thousand...

Tonight, her director is only dressed in leather pants that make her buttocks more prominent than ever and an almost transparent tank top. But what inappropriate attire for a director!

Elizabeth is outraged! Tess Figz heads for the exit and Elysabeth is terrified. Damn, she absolutely must not see it! This situation is more than embarrassing for the pretty Parisian

.

She would like to flee but she

can't help but detail this woman. Tess Figz looks so sad and much less bossy. She even looks fragile and wobbly. His tank top is in bad shape. He leaves some liberties to his chest. Ashamed, Elysabeth looks away for a moment. His face against the glass gives rise to some traces of mist.

When she brings her curious gaze back into the bar again, Tess Figz has disappeared. Oh god... She must be very close... What misery! Elysabeth sticks closer to the window. She glances sideways. Tess Figz plods along and nearly cracks her head. She holds herself against the wall. She is there just a few meters away and Betty is paralyzed. She doesn't realize. Damn, she had taken the air precisely to avoid the ordeal that made her live today Figz and what! She's just there smothered in booze, on the verge of throwing up. She approaches.

Damn, she's coming! Elysabeth doesn't want to go through this, it's too weird!

Tess mumbles a few sentences.

‹‹A cigarette... Give me a cigarette. Madam... A cigarette... ››

No, but Elysabeth thinks she is dreaming!

What mess did she get herself into? Fortunately, the shadow covers his porcelain face. She puts on her hood and runs away. In his not really fast race, his wool rises, revealing his buttocks in the air. But what an i***t, she thought! A few meters behind she hears

her headmistress shout:

‹‹NICE PAIR OF BUTTOCKS! A SORT OF

BITCH AND MY CIGARETTE! COME BACK ! ››

But Elysabeth does not stop. She has never run so fast in her entire life. In ten minutes, she reaches her apartment. But what s**t!

Yeah, that's rude, she thinks to herself, but clearly she can't think of any other words!

She will take a few minutes to catch her breath with the taste of dried blood in the back of her throat... But what would she have done if ever Tesspeste had recognized him watching her at one o'clock?

the same. That's a lot for one day. She turns to her crucifix.

_ Honestly Jesus, I don't know what you're playing but it's really not cool.