Through the Eyes of Diana Ladris(a GONE FanFiction)

Our house was quiet; too quiet. There was usually a good deal of screaming going on, and now, well, there was nothing. I could actually hear a fly buzzing softly in my room. Wanting to relish in the unusual silence, I smashed the insect between my palms. I threw the remains of the bug away, and wiped the insides off of my hands with a tissue.

 Once the fly was dead, there wasn’t much to relish over. Why? Because I could sense that something was wrong. Silence can be a good thing sometimes. But most of the time, it can provoke more fear and anticipation than anything else.

 My father’s voice broke the quiet force saturating our house. “Diana!” he bellowed up from downstairs. “Get down here instantly. We’re going to have a little chat.”

 I knew it. I knew that something bad was going to happen. 

 Throwing a t-shirt on over my bra, I briskly walked down our long, lingering staircase. My heart was beating, but not because I was afraid. No, because I was excited to try and outwit my father. I knew I had done something terribly wrong in his eyes. I knew that I was dark on the inside. I don’t think he completely knew that yet. He still thought that I was naïve. Silly him. But still, that allowed me some room to wiggle.

 Translation: more room to lie.

 Without any makeup on my face, I looked young, innocent maybe. After all, I wasn’t even a teenager yet.  My father still saw me as a child, even though I had been starting to visibly grow up. You’d think it would start to get annoying. Instead, though, it helped me slip away from trouble. Slip away like a fortunate fish stuck on a hook whose catcher decided it was too small to be worth any trouble.

  My father had his arms crossed over his chest, veins bulging. He face was red and angry looking, almost comical, actually. Everything about his posture, look, and amount on anger displayed made me think of a cartoon character. I wasn’t intimidated, wasn’t the least bit scared. Despite his rage, I had to work hard to stifle my laughter and send it back to the bit of my stomach. Wiping a grin off my face, I jumped off the last step eagerly.

 “What do you want, Daddy?” I asked, hands clasped behind my back, rocking back and forward on my heels. This childish pose was just all part of the act. “Did I do something?” I knew I had done something. Again, it was all part of the act.

 My dad shook his head. “You know what you did, Diana.”

 My mouth formed a fake frown as I purposely made my eyes get big, eyelashes batted innocently. “Wha---?”

 “Diana, shut your mouth now! You told your mother I had a…a…” he stuttered, completely unsure of himself.

 “Mistress,” I finished for him, one side of my mouth slightly moving to form a grin. “And if you don’t know what that is, let me explain. That means you have another lover besides my mom, because this new women provides you with---“

 My dad cut me off mid sentence. “You have ruined our marriage.”

 “I’m pretty sure you were already doing that.”

 He looked at me like I was the most filthy thing on earth. For a moment, I had a quick flashback of how my daddy and I were when I was younger. He used to push me on the swing-set when he’d get home from work, read me books at night with a cup of hot cocoa for the pair of us. My father loved me…and I much as I hate to admit it, I loved him just a well.

 But then darker things crept into my mind: Him drinking until he fell unconscious to the floor one night, and woke up in a drunken rage the next morning. My father at one point left my mom for a little over two months, and then returned and pretended that nothing had ever happened. The fact that he got my mother pregnant with me and didn’t even propose to her until I was five, almost six was another thing I never knew what to think of. I was the flower girl at their wedding. That’s not how it should’ve been. It taught me that that kind of thing was the right thing to do. I still don’t know if it was wrong. And…and how could I still love him after seeing him with that other woman? His mistress?

 He shook his head. “It’s about that horse I wouldn’t get you isn’t it?” I just stared at him and nodded rudely, rolling my eyes. “I can’t believe you, Diana. I raised you so much better than to---“

 “And I’m pretty sure your father raised you better than to go off with other women behind my own mother’s back. You’re worse off than I am, idiot.”

 Before he could say anything, I held up a finger, indicating him to shut his mouth. “Just promise me one thing. If you’re going to marry this other woman, than don’t get her pregnant first. It’s much better to look at your parent’s wedding pictures; not see yourself in them.”

 “Diana, you better---“

 “Oh, just go to Hell already,” I said, turning on my heel and walking back up the stairs.