Della had finally had enough. She no longer lived but merely existed. In her late forties she was far from past her sell by date but she couldn't help suppress the panic and despair she felt at the thought that this was it, this is as good as life got. She’d married young, to a then handsome man called Peter and for a while they’d been happy together, the epitome of Love Young’s Dream. Years passed, they had children; the children grew up and moved away and with their departure went the love and desire from their relationship. It seemed as if over night her husband had lost all virility, turning into an old man before her eyes. She was no spring chicken herself but she had always made the effort, tried to look good. But for what? Peter certainly wasn't interested anymore. They didn't even sleep in the same room these days let alone make love.
Sadly Della felt like she was withering away, she may as well have turned celibate… Yet there was another underlying fear and that was at the overwhelming urges that threatened to boil over and spill out from her. Dark urges, utterly debauched and dirty, ones that she could never share with Peter. So she went about her day to day drab existence, trying to block it all out until one day she caught sight of herself in the mirror and she knew it had to change.
