How is it that there is no patch of land, no corner of the Earth where one can seem to go to avoid the sight and/or sound of children? It was a cruel fate to endure, even when one is a child themselves. Or at least, a child with any sense of sophistication. Dominique Laird was just such a being—cursed with preadolescent youth, yet in no way did she identify with her “birth cohort.” If anything, these people were as annoying and affronting to her as they were to the adults.

Sometimes, long after she had found a loophole for abandoning childhood, she tried to pinpoint the first moment she felt such intense contempt for her fellow child. She would likely say it happened when she was around three years old. That was when her mother, Esminda, thought it would be a good idea to start “socializing” Dominique a bit more by taking her to a play group. At said event, Dominique could distinctly recollect how appalled she was at the notion that these disgusting people were supposed to be her brethren. How unjust. For she didn’t think that they were a fair representation of who she was at all. For a start, she didn’t cry or scream at the drop of a hat. Nor did she drool all over herself or produce snot like a human booger factory.

In contrast, Dominique was refined. And, at three years old, she could instantly ascertain that she was nothing like her so-called kind. Nor would she ever be—no matter how much time Esminda made her spend with these wretched, ill-mannered creatures. Dominique therefore decided early on that she would do whatever it took to escape from this ilk. It didn’t take long for her to find out that the best approach to evading other children on a permanent basis was to become either too smart or too valuable in such a way as to prevent her from having to keep going to school with them. That’s when Dominique had an epiphany: she would tell her mother she wanted to become an actress.

Esminda, bogged down by debts, a low-paying office job and an ex-husband who had vanished so effectively that he didn’t have to pay her alimony, was not about to discourage Dominique’s “dream.” Even if it was motivated by patently impure intentions. But that was the thing about Dominique: she knew purity was a waste of time. Sooner or later, everyone becomes tainted. Especially children. The sooner those fuckers wised up, Dominique thought, the better off we would all be. But many of them so did enjoy languishing in their privileged sense of “purity,” most faking it for years after having already been corrupted just for the sake of still being able to get away with pretty much whatever they wanted. In any case, the more Esminda thought about Dominique’s request to start going on auditions, the more she couldn’t believe that it had never occurred to her to pimp out her daughter before. It would be so useful. And she had noticed that Dominique possessed certain bankable “JonBenét” qualities. With the right splash of makeup, she could become the next Lolita-esque male fantasy.

If that happened, Esminda would never have to worry about her financial security again. Unless, of course, Dominique turned on her later in life. Not that Esminda would do too much to invoke such a reaction. Just a bit of skimming off the top for her contribution as “birther.” How could Dominique begrudge her of that? The duo worked quickly to secure Dominique’s launch into childhood stardom. This finally allowing Dominique her full-fledged escape into the “adult world” when a series of TV commercials and appearances on a few well-known sitcoms caught the attention of indie auteur Aaron Gabardine. Also rumored to be something of a pedophile, but what concern was that, really, to Dominique? He wanted her to play the “gritty role” of a ten-year-old prostitute—despite being five. But again, the wonders of makeup…not to mention the wonders of how an actress is cast for a wealth of any “non-gray” parts when she is “young enough,” and then cast solely for the part of “ageing crone” after thirty.

Although Esminda was actually the one to caution against accepting the role, Dominique could taste her permanent evasion of attending school with the drooling dolts if she took the job and instead received her education from a set tutor. Indeed, she would make it her mission to perform so well on this movie that she would be cast again and again until she was eighteen and could remain forever worry-free about being legally required to exist in the presence of other youths again (unless adequately compensated by a studio). Dominique certainly got her wish and then some, landing an Oscar for her performance as Nebula in Gabardine’s Child Gone Astray.

From there, her career was catapulted into the stratosphere, and she surrounded herself only with adults. Quiet (usually), civilized (seemingly) adults. It was only when she finally became one that Dominique started to lose the work that had once poured in so free-flowingly. How could she not have seen it coming? Not only had she seen it happen many times to people she knew, but the adults had warned her about it as well. For some silly reason, however, Dominique assumed she might be the exception to the rule. Meanwhile, Esminda had spent so much of the money Dominique had earned in the last thirteen years like a drunken sailor. It was as though Dominique had worked a minimum wage job all this time, as opposed to a multimillion dollar one. And now that she was an official adult, she needed that hard-earned cash more than ever.

She found this out very quickly when the tax man came a-knockin’ the year after her “legality.” Not to mention the hordes of various handlers that Dominique’s mother had employed unbeknownst to her for years. “Invisible presences” that evidently only made themselves visible when they wanted to collect on unpaid amounts. It was all news to Dominique. And in her state of distress and despair, she impetuously opted to leave the safety of her “palace walls” without a car. In L.A., as the Missing Persons song made many aware, nobody walks. So the sight of a normal person, let alone a famous one, doing so can be rather jarring.

Dominique didn’t account for that as she walked toward the Beverly Cañon Gardens to find respite on a bench near the fountain. But what she hadn’t considered before arriving was just how ensconced in her self-made bubble of serenity she had been for so long. Which is why she had forgotten that the mere act of daring to seek out a public space such as this one automatically entailed the ultimate “soundtrack” of every non-private place: screaming children. Not that laughing children were any more tolerable. In fact, Dominique quickly remembered that it was even more vexing than their screaming. What the fuck was so fucking funny to these slack-jawed spawns all the time? What was there to be so joyous about (apart from not yet being required to work)? It only highlighted to Dominique what she had already discovered as a child herself: the innate stupidity of children. A word that most people preferred to substitute with “innocence.” But you’d have to be stupid to stay that way. Or locked in a similar bubble to the one Dominique had created for herself for more than a decade now.

But maybe she foolishly chose to burst it in this instance to remember what was at stake if she ever lost it. How she would be constantly subjected to the high-pitched screaming and laughing she had worked all her life to avoid. Thus, it was absolutely essential for her to start landing gigs again without Esminda being able to oversee the funds with such careless, selfish laxity. With her a-ha moment in tow, Dominique ran as fast as she could out of the garden—just another playground for the spawns of those who created them mainly out of obligation rather than true desire. She ran until she got back home to call her agent and inform him she wanted to make a porno movie as soon as possible. Ideally, a “tasteful” one.

That was sure to shatter the image people had of her as mere child so that she could transition in the eyes of the public—into a “real” woman. No longer caught in that strange in-between that Britney Spears once described as “not a girl, not yet a woman.” All Dominique ever wanted, of course, was to simply not be a child. Thinking that it would keep her from ever having to be around them again. But no, only money culled from long-running fame would achieve that goal.