The Prisoner Project

TWENTY

"My only desire is to reform people who try to reform me, and I believe the only way to reform people is to kill them. My motto is: Rob 'em all, rape 'em all, and kill 'em all."

- Carl Panzram

TWENTY

DIANA SLAPPED ME across the face and left a bloody imprint. She pushed me to the ground, kicked me, punched me, screamed into my face that she wished my mother had aborted us so she didn't have to be my twin, so she didn't have look in the mirror and see a reflection that resembled mine. She spat in my face, and told me she wished I was dead.

And then she picked up the gun and aimed it at me.

"Of all the things you could do, Aria..." She cried, tears streaming down her face. The blood from her head had dried onto her pallid skin. Her silhouette reflected on the floral tapestry of my mothers room. The room was lit by a solitary side lamp and in the dim light, her eyes seemed darker. "You killed my mother..."

Because I had taken her blows without reproach, my face was bruised. I knew the damage was evident, and inevitable. My voice was a plea. "She's my mother too."

Diana might hate me now but I knew she'd understand later on. I felt it.

She scoffed, like she couldnt belive that was my reply. Nothing in the room mattered but the voices in my head telling me that I had done the right thing. "You don't get to do this. You don't have the right to take a life!"

Involuntarily, I turned to my side and spat. A combination of blood, saliva and tears. "You took Hughs life."

Diana gasped, the gun trembling in her fingers. "Don't." She took a step closer and the heated barrel of the gun was pressed against my head. "Don't defend the bastard like you always do. Not this time..."

"He's human—"

"NO!" She yelled, cutting me off. "He's not human! He's a monster, Aria." Her voice fell, just like her tears did. "Every fucking time he hit you, you apologised for his behaviour. Every fucking time he did something terrible, you let it bleed out of the cuts and wounds he gave you! It wasn't fair on me, on mom, on anyone!"

She spat. "You need to realise that it wasn't just you who stood at the receiving end of his angst. Not everything revolves around you. He also gave me bruises and broken teeth for my birthday, he also mentally detained mom by constantly reminding her of dad's affair. He tortured ALL OF US. This sad, bad, world we live in, does not and will never begin or end with you."

"You will never be the star of the show. You will never be the only person that matters. He hated you, just as he hated me, just as he hated mom, just as he hated his own damn self. You are not special, Aria. It scares me to wonder why you still loved him so much."

She sniffed, using her sleeve to wipe away her tears. "And there he was, standing before you, threatening to blow your brains out and yet, you couldn't pull the trigger. It's sick, Aria. You're sick."

I was shaking, my hands trembled against the heat of my neck. I wanted to block out all her words, but it permeated through even my thickest, darkest thoughts.

She spoke the truth, and the truth had the same impact as lies did. They were the thin lines between heaven and hell.

When I didn't answer, I watched the anger melt to grief in liquid form. Her shoulders fell and the gun toppled to the ground. She looked utterly defeated and weightless.