The Daughter Of Dawn

CHAPTER 3

Dianna had a hard time learning French when she first came here. She had to be fluent, since nobody spoke english.

She drove home under the starry night. Her house looked pretty with the neat white walls, plain windows, well-maintained lawn with no flowers. Contrary to that, her neighbour's house looked full and untidy. Her neighbour : Jeane. The most obnoxious person she had met.

"A little late in the evening, don't you think? " Jeane remarked, her cigarette sticking out of her mouth. She made a perfect smoke ring and continued. "Well, what have you got to worry about? Nobody's going to mess with you. " she smirked.

Dianna gritted her teeth inside her mouth. She became hot. She imagined tearing Jeane apart, muscle by muscle, limb by limb. She imagined pulling out her French-accented tongue. But she did none of those things.

She just walked away and inside her house.

Jeane knew. She knew what Dianna did before she suddenly decided to move to Paris and make a living. In fact, she knew about all her neighbours. But Dianna was her biggest conundrum. She mocked her every morning, every evening, or whenever she saw her, hoping she would crack. She wanted Dianna to hit her, punch her, better try to kill her.

But Dianna wasn't the monster everybody thought she was. Or maybe, she was the monster nobody knew.

She walked in and locked the door behind her. She thought she could hold it, but she could not. She pressed her palm against her mouth to stop a sob from coming out. It came out, anyway. Her eyes became blurry with tears and she lay on the black leather couch.

She tried to sleep, but when she closed her eyes, her past came back in flashes. And like every night, she was too exhausted to stop it. She let it play in her head.

And there she was again : Chicago, Illinois.

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Her sneakers  made prints on the snow. She'd normally go slow to look at them, but not today. She was late for class, so her leaps were longer. But that wasn't the only reason . For the past few weeks, she felt like somebody was following her. On the streets, in the Law School, in the parking lot, which unconsciously made her walk faster. It was because of the disappearance of the four girls from the university. They just vanished. They probably ran away somewhere. That made her feel calmer, though she didn't believe it.

She entered her class, not because she liked it, but because she was told that she should have a financially secure career. So even though she despised law, and loved writing, she slipped herself on the last seat on the right.

The only thing she liked about the class was professor John Miller, who was also her guardian. He was responsible for her education, and he took his responsibility way too seriously. He was in his late fifties, and reminded her of the parents she had long lost.

Flashes of her parents' accident made her sweat break, but the room became cold , suddenly.