FOURTEEN

33.4K 1.2K 539
                                    






CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NOTHING LIKE A MAD WOMAN

DIANA BLAKE THOUGHT A LOT ABOUT HOW SHE'D FEEL ONCE HER FATHER LEFT

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.





DIANA BLAKE THOUGHT A LOT ABOUT HOW SHE'D FEEL ONCE HER FATHER LEFT. She always imagined that a wave of relief would wash over her and she would finally be able to breathe without fear gripping her windpipe. Despite merging every expectation, she was still met with something surprising. Guilt.

Laying wide awake in her bed, she stared at the ceiling with regret swimming through her chest. The confrontation played in her mind on repeat, in fast forward, and in slow motion. She could feel the sting on her cheek and the ache in her back from being thrown up against the wall. The sound of shattering glass continued to echo through her head, and she could hear her own voice reveal the ugly truth without an ounce of remorse. The anger in her father's stare and the betrayal in her mother's would haunt her forever.

Her parents had a complex relationship, one that no one could understand but them. They operated under the understanding that they were stuck in their loveless marriage together and neither of them was willing to walk away. It was toxic and unhealthy, but that kind of bond, that kind of suffering, warranted allegiance. Their love died young, but the remains of it were built into the foundations of their house. Its body rotted under the floorboards.

Diana couldn't help but feel responsible for it all—the tension, the heartbreak, the sadness. She knew that she was not the reason for their broken family, but she facilitated it. She told her siblings, she dropped the bomb. She looked her mother in the face and ripped her heart out of her chest.

Frustration built as she tossed and turned, making a mess of her bedsheets. She felt like a petulant child throwing a tantrum and whaling to the sky, a pout on her face and arms crossed in defiance. There was a multitude of bitterness swirling around her and countless words she couldn't bring herself to use other than unfair.

It was unfair. Hadn't she given enough? Everything she was, everything she had, she gave away. Bits and pieces of her sanity chipped off one after another, and the sad part was that she didn't know what she was giving herself to! Was it something as menial as a high school relationship? Her father's arrogance? Her family's reputation that meant nothing outside of Hawkins? The thief of innocence?

Everything she lost only made her realize that she was the problem. The things that gave her grief had gone and passed. She thought that her sadness and that stubborn anxiety that followed her like a storm cloud would have disappeared with them. They didn't. Her external problems were gone but her internal ones were alive and well, so it had to be her. She was the common denominator. The problem. The fault.

It was unfair that she went through so much only to hate herself more.

Everything fell apart. Perfection ran its course and the unknown was quickly approaching. The house was silent for the first time in years but the walls were closing in. Diana couldn't breathe, nor could she pretend that nothing was wrong long enough to fall asleep and forget it.

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 | billy hargrove Where stories live. Discover now