2 A.M. Silence | ✓

02 | the color red

She's high fashion
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"OH DARLING, wherever did you get that dress?"

Diana Walker's deadly green eyes flashed with anger when she looked up at her mother. "You don't like it?" she said, her voice laced with poison.

She was the spitting image of her mother. From a beautiful figure to the same haunting green eyes, the two were identical in every single aspect. A certain confidence surrounded the both of them — a proud confidence that kept their chins high and threatened those around them. And yet it was this deadly confidence that molded the cutting tension between them that made them seem as distant as ever.

Her mother sneered and took a drag from her cigarette, "Red is not your color."

The air bent towards a darkness that matched the one in Diana's eyes. She gripped the table counter tightly, her fists slowly turning white. "You know," she said maliciously as her mother took another slow drag, "Marie liked it."

She knew exactly what she was doing the second the words escaped her lips. Her mother stiffened and swiveled to glare at her, "Did she now?"

The mention of her father's secretary was a trick Diana had learned that would tick off her mother. Every single time. After all, it was the woman her father was blatantly cheating on her mother with.

The lack of parental love Diana received as a child had undoubtedly affected her life growing up. Her parents owned half of their town's estate and were more than well off. But no amount of money and gifts they threw at her with could fill the empty void in her chest. After years of forgotten birthdays, Christmases spent alone, Diana learned she couldn't count on her parents for anything. Anything other than money, that is.

Now, at the young age of 17, Diana had absolutely no respect for her parents. Her father, who she rarely ever saw, was off fucking his secretary as her mother sat idly at home, drowning herself in alcohol and nicotine. To this day, Diana wondered why they never separated. It was as if her parents were in a simulation where unspoken hatred was masked by hollow smiles and easy lies. Yet through it all, they were forever bound together by some greater force of misery.

Diana was long over the childish sadness of mourning her neglectful parents. Instead, she entertained herself by toying with them, pushing at their buttons, silently hoping they would pop one day. The rare family dinners were her favorites. A casual mention of Marie here, a sprinkle of alcohol there, and Diana could lean back and watch it all unfold.

"I wonder where dad is right now," Diana said absently as she poured herself a glass of water.

Oh, how she loved toying with her mother.

"Shut the fuck up, Diana," her mother snarled.

Throughout the years, her mother had turned into an emotionless robot, staring blankly ahead as the world moved along without her. Seeds of bitterness, anger, and denial had rooted themselves in the aging woman, constantly throwing taunts her.

"It's your fault," she spat at Diana. "If you were a son, he'd still be here. But here you are, a whiney, ungrateful little bitch. You drove him away."

It wasn't the first time Diana had heard those words, but somehow, they managed to hurt a little more each time. They echoed in her mind, layering onto the nonstop screeches in there.

"Or maybe you just couldn't please him," Diana sneered.

Her mother's palm came down fast and struck her left cheek. Diana felt her face flare up in pain as her head snapped to the right.

"Watch your mouth," her mother hissed.

Diana felt the blood boil under her skin, felt the hatred begin to overflow and spill into her veins, felt it feed the voices that screamed in her head.

Her mother stepped back and stared at her through empty eyes. There was a tension that burned in the air, flickering amongst them. It was almost as if it was a contest of who would break first, and Diana refused to let her mother win. She held her mother's gaze with the same deadly glare, ignoring the pain of her fingernails digging into her palms.

After a few moments, her mother sighed and took another drag of her cigarette. "Darling, you need to smile more," she said like nothing had happened. "The least you could do is try to look pretty."

The voices in her head shrieked so loudly Diana felt her ears ring. But as usual, Diana stood silent and simply regarded her mother through clouded eyes.

Her blood red dress hugged her body tightly. She felt the soft fabric burn against her skin, felt the rest of her body pulse along with her swollen cheek.

If red wasn't her color, then why was it all she could see?