The Prisoner Project

TEN

"I need to start eating at home more."
- Jeffery Dahmer

TEN

   DIANA PRESSED THE most recent picture Dante had sent her against her webcam and I felt my blood run cold. The picture was normal; depicting a man with his green eyes crinkled at the side and lips upturned in an innocent smile. He stood against a plain white background and his hands were folded against his chest. That was the exact problem with the photo. It was too normal. It was stock-photo-from-google normal.

I scowled. "You expect me to believe that the man in that picture is Dante."

"For the hundredth time, yes!" Diana exhaled. "He said it's him and I believe him."

I scrubbed a hand against my face and sighed. Diana had fallen too deep into the rabbit hole to realise how fake the photo was. I pointed a finger at the picture, grimacing. "It doesn't even look like the other photo he sent you last time!"

"It does. Same eyes. I checked."

"Really." I rose a brow.

"OK...so he looks slightly different, and his hair has changed. So what? Haven't you heard of a thing called ageing?" She exclaimed, dropping the photo on the table beside her. She was sat at our familiar dining table and her infamous bowl of Cheerios remained untouched in front of the laptop.

"Ageing." I repeated, incredulous. "He didn't even try to get another picture of the man he used last time! He's lying to you and you fucking know it."

"He's not! Gosh, could you be any more...suffocating? And for heavens sake stop swearing so much!" She lifted the photo again and jabbed her finger in one of the eyes. "Look in those green eyes and tell me you don't see an honest hottie."

"I don't see a hottie. I see a Green-Eyed Caucasian Catfish."

"Catfish. Ew, I'm vegan."

"You guzzle Cheerios like a recovering drug addict. With Milk. Stop lying to yourself, Dante is a catfish!" I groaned, exasperated.

Diana was not going to let this go but hell if I wasn't going to make her feel like shit about it. She's been sending pictures, and talking to a man she doesn't even know. And now, he doesn't even have the decency to be real?

She crossed her hand over her chest and heaved like a three year old. "I believe him."

I sniffed the air. "Smell that?" I moved forward so my nose was closer to the laptop screen. "That smelly smell?" Diana looked unamused as I sniffed around for at least thirty seconds. "You don't smell it? Well, I do. Smells like bullshit."

"Your face smells like bullshit." She muttered, petulant.

I slapped my hands against my thighs in finality. "You know what? If you're not going to accept it then I'll let you do you. You're an adult and not my responsibility anymore."

She peeked up at me with unfairly long lashes and pouted. "Good!"

"GOOD." I deadpanned.

Silence rung out like a bell in my large apartment and echoed in her cramped up one. We stared at each other in the most intense, aggravating and hostile staring contest. Then Diana heaved a sigh and blinked, (failing the contest).