Don't Wait Up
By Kendra Steiner
skull_gurl@hotmail.com

   Daria sat on the edge of the bathtub and reminisced. That whole week
had been one blowout waste. She was scorned and laughed at during 
school, and for no apparent reason. At home, her parents were 
constantly fighting with themselves and her. She was really upset about
that. Most would have said she was emotionally fragile right now. She 
would have said she was insane. She was right.
    
   She drew a bath and waited for the water to get warm and the tub 
full. During the lull, she thought about what had transpired with her 
best friend Jane. She remembered Jane's words so vividly. "Daria, I'm 
moving. My parents want a taste of Seattle living, so that's where 
we're headed in two weeks." All that had been said three weeks ago, and
now Jane was gone. Daria had no one to be friends with. No one who 
cared, or even noticed. 

   She slowly pulled off her clothes and eased her body into the water.
Her shaving razor was on the counter. She grabbed it and some soap, and
began to shave her legs. "Might as well look my best." She thought. She 
finished, and washed her hair. When she was done, she drained the tub, 
rinsed it, and filled it again.

   "It's not like they'll miss me." She thought. "They never cared. 
I'll be doing them all a favor." She pulled a piece of paper out of a 
drawer and put it on the counter. She again slid slowly into the tub, 
razor in hand. Gently, she started to run it repeatedly across her 
wrists. When she decided she had enough veins open, she popped a few 
Aspirin and laid back, a reflective smile on her face. It took only a 
few minutes for the water to turn an eerie shade of red, and Daria's 
now lifeless, smiling form to slip downwards, face still exposed, 
looking truly happy for once in her miserable life.

   Quinn pounded on the bathroom door, shouting "Daria! What is taking 
you so long? It's not like you're pretty and popular enough to spend 
time primping in front of the mirror. I know you're in there! Daria? 
That's it. I'm busting this door down." She kicked the door, peered in,
screamed, and fainted. 

   Helen heard the scream and ran upstairs, only to see her youngest 
daughter's unconscious form, and her eldest daughter's lifeless one. 
She turned pale, ran in, checked Daria's pulse, and finding none, 
grabbed her cell phone and called for an ambulance. 

   The attendants checked Quinn and pronounced her alive and well,
though unconscious, and checked Daria, pronouncing her dead. The police
came, and looked at the scene. They surmised the events leading up to 
her death, and read the note. Helen managed to get her hands on it and 
read it. It said:

  "Hey, Mom, Dad, and Quinn. You've all shown me that I'm obviously not
wanted or needed or even loved just a little bit, so I've decided to go 
home. Everyone everywhere has proven to me that I'm unimportant and 
getting in the way. I guess I'm just slowing you down. Well, don't wait
up. Here I go. You're probably crying, reading this, but wait. Go into 
my room. I moved things around a bit, and in the closet are my private
and "prized" possessions, though you can hardly call that dingy padded 
cell and old rag-clothes "prized." Oh, well. No one even bothered to 
ASK me if I'd like to change them. They threatened. That really 
displeases me, as does all your nagging. See you in hell. 
                                     -Daria Irene Morgendorffer."

   Helen would read that note every day of the rest of her life, and 
use it as an encouragement to BE encouraging. That was one of Daria's 
purposes in explaining her suicide. Helen went into Quinn's room and 
woke her up. She had fallen asleep only moments after waking. Helen 
showed her the note, and Quinn cried. When Jake got home, another 
explanation had to be made.

   Helen made it, and showed Jake the note. He sat down and cried for
the first time since he had fallen off his bike at age six. Funeral
arrangements had to be made, and Jane needed to be called. Helen did
just that. "Hello, Jane and Amanda's Art Cart. How may I help you?" Said
Jane. "Jane," Said Helen, "I'm afraid I have some bad news about Daria.
She… She committed suicide yesterday." Jane screamed and said, "What?
How?" Helen responded with "She slit her wrists in the bathtub. Do you
have a fax number?" Jane told her she did. Helen faxed her a copy of
Daria's suicide note, an address where she could pick up the items Daria
had left to her, and a quick note saying that Daria had put a letter in
her room to be mailed to Jane after the suicide, and that no one but
Jane was to see it.

   After Jane hung up, she walked down the hall to Trent's room. She
knocked and went on in, knowing that he'd be asleep. Upon waking him
up, he looked at her face and asked why she was crying. She responded
with "Daria killed herself!" Ending the sentence with a wail. Trent
immediately started crying. When they were all done, he said, "I never
got to tell her that I loved her. She never knew." And Jane responded
with "Oh, Trent, She knew. She loved you too. Very much." And he looked
a little calmer.

   They flew back for the funeral, and many people read bits of things 
for a Eulogy. Quinn, Jane, Trent, Helen, Jake, Aunt Amy, and some of 
Daria's classmates were just a few of the readers. Even Andrea went up 
and read Daria's Melody Powers stories. The entire school and community
were in attendance. Daria hadn't realized how big an impression she'd 
made, how much these people loved her and needed her, and how this 
entire town couldn't survive without her.

   Daria's family looked through her things, found all her poetry and 
stories, and had them published, along with a few of Jane's "Daria 
Sketches," of which there were many. Her story made headlines and 
magazines all over the world. Eventually, the town of Lawndale fell 
apart. They were wont of sarcasm, cynicism, pessimism, and all the 
other characteristics that made a woman like Daria. One of Jane's 
paintings of Daria was hung in a museum. It was a portrait of her, with 
copper hair billowing over her shoulders and green eyes shining. She 
was smirking that Mona Lisa smirk of hers and looking beautiful.

   Trent never married, but his musical career soared. All his songs 
were dedicated to "My muse, Daria." And quite a few of them had a 
certain aspect that was reminiscent of the queen of the underground
bummer culture. Daria, the perpetual teenager, would always be 
seventeen going on thirty. She would never grow old, and neither would 
the legacy of cynicism, sarcasm, and pessimism she left in her wake. 

THE END