THIRTEEN

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NOTHING IS WRONG, EVERYTHING IS PERFECT
tw: depictions of violence & abuse

CHAPTER THIRTEENNOTHING IS WRONG, EVERYTHING IS PERFECTtw: depictions of violence & abuse

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IF SOMEONE ASKED DIANA ABOUT HER CHILDHOOD, her immediate response would be to lie. Not because it was filled with horrific memories (though it did have its fair share), but because she didn't have much memory of it at all.

It came to her in hazy flashes and feelings she could only describe when explicitly asked about them. There were core moments—that time she was so sick she lost her voice, running through garden sprinklers with her brother, baking cookies with Allison for a school bake sale, watching Dynasty with her mother, her father teaching her how to ride a bike. Good and bad, she knew they were there. Though, there was one in particular that stood out. It was the kind of memory that shaped a person, the kind that no matter what she did, she couldn't get over.

Countless nights were spent staring at her ceiling, begging the universe to let her forget. She cried, and she prayed, and she screamed. It haunted every corner of her mind, just like the whispers of her house. When she thought about it, her chest tightened and her eyes searched for the nearest exit. Nausea gripped her throat and her ears rung. It was a movie projected in her mind and she lived through it every single time she laid eyes on her parents. She couldn't shake it.

Diana was seven when it happened.

She was woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of shouting. At first, she thought it was James and Allison arguing about something outside of her door. It wasn't until the malice behind their words set in that she realized it wasn't. Her parents fought a lot, but never like that. They were never that bad.

Naturally, her seven year old self was curious as to why her parents were fighting so she crept out of bed and slipped out her bedroom door. Her siblings were already watching the scene below from the top of the stairs.

She remembered it vividly. Her mother was dressed in her nightgown with tear streaks running down her face. Her brows were furrowed  in desperation as she pleaded with her husband to listen to her. Her father was angry—the most angry she had ever seen him. Diana couldn't see his piercing glare from where she stood, but she knew it was filled with hatred.

The argument escalated. Her father tried leaving the house. Her mother blocked the door before he could. There was more yelling. She didn't see what happened next because James stepped in front of her and Allison grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around and forcing her back in the direction of her bedroom. There was a loud indiscernible shout followed by the sound of shattering glass, then absolute silence.

The next morning, Diana saw a her parents' wedding picture in a broken frame at the bottom of the stairs. Her mom had a bruise on her cheek and a cut on her arm.

No one talked about it.

After that, the Blakes' entire lives changed. Estella quit her job and taught Diana how to use a corkscrew. Allison (despite only being thirteen at the time) started cooking their meals and walked James and Diana to school every morning. Marco became even more detached.

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 | billy hargrove Where stories live. Discover now