1. Screaming
I was lying in my bed, starring at the ceiling. Listening as they screamed at each other. A small part of my conscience alerted me that part of this was my fault, that I should feel guilty. Guilty that I had told my mother about my father and his love affair.
"I'm not the one who should feel guilty," I told myself. "Daddy should feel guilty. Guilty for not buying me my pony."
I folded my tiny arms across my chest and frowned at the ceiling. A part of me did feel guilty, but another, stronger part of me, was happy. I would get what I wanted now. My father would come around, he would realize that I could control him. He would give me whatever I wanted from now on. I wouldn't even have to ask.
"I want a divorce!" My mother screamed from down in the kitchen. My heart stopped; the breath caught in my throat. Divorce. That awful ugly word. I had seen what happened to parents once they got divorced; it had happened to lots of people at my school. The mothers always showed up looking sloppy; as if they no longer cared what people thought of them. The fathers (who rarely visited the school) would show up in a flashy car with a pretty woman in it.
I couldn't believe that my mother would even consider something like this. How could she put me through this? I vowed that I would not let this happen. I would do anything to avoid the sympathetic stares of teachers, the whispers of my classmates, and the humiliation of my family. Anything. I fell asleep with the knowledge that the word divorce would never be mentioned again.
The next morning I awoke earlier than usual. One of the nannies had left a clean outfit hanging on my door. I pulled it on quickly and brushed my hair and teeth. Once I was ready I crept over to my door and opened it a crack. My mother was sitting at the top of the staircase, talking quietly on the phone to her lawyer I presumed. I inspected her carefully. I had never been close to my mother (or my father for that matter.) She looked nothing like me. While I had dark hair and dark eyes, she was blonde with pale skin and blue eyes. She was wearing a floor length, pink silk robe, embroidered with black flowers.
She hung up the phone and buried her face in her lap. I opened the door and walked the short distance down the hall to the staircase. My mother turned to me, her eyes were red and puffy and there were tearstains on her face.
"Diana sweetie go back to your room," She sniffled. I continued to walk towards her. "Don't worry about me, just go back to bed for a little while. Diana listen to me go back to you room."
When she saw that I was not returning to my bedroom she stood up and opened her arms to me. I embraced her quickly before pulling away.
"What are you doing up so early huh?" She asked gently, sniffling again.
"Are you and daddy going to get a divorce?" I asked her plainly, my facial expression did not change.
She seemed surprised for a moment, then her features relaxed. Fresh tears sprung to her eyes and dropped down her cheeks. "Yes," She whispered.
I dove into her midsection and heaved with all the strength my ten-year-old body could manage. My mother toppled backwards, falling down the staircase like a ton of bricks. She somersaulted all the way down and landed with a sickening crack. I walked down the stairs slowly, carefully, to scrutinize her.
She had landed face up, her legs sprawled beneath her. A few stringy strands of her were stuck to her face with tears. Her eyes and mouth twitched slightly, alerting me that she was alive. She looked strangely beautiful, like a fallen angel. As I watched a halo formed around her head. A crimson halo of blood.