The Prisoner Project

THIRTY FIVE

His threat was evident within his words, and we all knew he meant it. We had bruises to prove that Hugh had no problems laying a hand on his own mother.

I spat at him. "What the hell do you want to talk about? The fact that Dad left us? That he's been cheating on mom for years? Or how disgusting you are to be happy about all of this?"

Hugh grinned, like I had told him that he owned the world. His brows were slashed into a menacing frown, yet his teeth flared through a smile. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear the last part so I don't spin your jaw." He turned to our mother. "Years, Huh? I got to give it to the old man, he's nasty."

When I looked at my mother, I noticed her face was white as sheet. Her grip on her cross had tightened so severely that every knuckle on her finger was pallid. She wasn't even looking at me anymore, it was like she was looking through me.

I gasped. She didn't know.

Diana was on the verge of tears. "Aria, I hope you're fucking happy."

I couldn't take my eyes away from my mother. If she hadn't known, then why had she been so depressed all these months? I was in shock so I whispered. "I'm just happy the truths finally out..."

"Oh, we're spilling truths, huh?" Diana retorted.

I shook my head. Please, no.

"I hate you." She confessed. "God, I really do."

As if she had burrowed her hands through my chest cavity, pulled out my beating heart, threw it on the ground and stomped on it, pain shot through my entire body.

Hugh guffawed. "Oh, thats something."

Diana's eyes were reddened with fresh waves of angee as she spun to face Hugh. She pushed her spaghetti to the side and hissed. "You're one to talk..."

"Hugh, I can't even hold back. Ever since you came into this family, all you've ever been is a sad sack of disappointment — and no one, not even God, could love you."

The smile on Hugh's face had vanished.

Her voice levels were decibels low. "Not even your own mother could stand you."

As if snapping out of her surprised funk, my mother gasped. "Diana!"

But Diana had already shifted her world on its axis.

Hatred contorted her features. "If she loved you, you wouldn't be sat here fuming at everyone because you can't live with yourself. You wouldn't even be here because you'd be with her. Yet, here you are, under our roof, tormenting us, because you're the bastard child that Dad couldn't even look at." She was the embodiment of fury. "Hugh. You were a disappointment, from the moment you were conceived."

It was like she had dropped a time bomb on the dinner table and we were watching it tick. My entire head vibrated with shock. What the fuck was she saying?

For the first time in Hugh's life, he had been completely and utterly shut up.

He didn't say much. He had never needed to. All he did was mutter — "What the fuck are you saying?"

"I'm saying Dad was right." Diana's voice was serpentine. "You're God's mistake."

Crack.

I screamed. Mom screamed. Diana went down like a sack of potatoes. Hugh had reached for our mothers empty plate and dashed it across her head so hard that the shards of ceramic went flying in different directions around the room. I watched the blood seep from her head injury and stain the flooring.