Lightly patting her petite little toes across the family's ligneous kitchen floor, Dimond snuck to her bedroom. Stilettos in hand, she crept up her staircase, passing by a family photograph. Guilt filled her soul at the sight of it. Who had she become?
Closing the door to the couple's shared chamber Carlisle's head popped up, eyes fixated on the coctail dress draped over his wife. One he easily mistook for a slip blinded by darkness and denyal. "You alright?" He questioned glansing at the alarm clock settled at his bedside.
Dimond nodded, then, cleverly sheilding her heels with her body, she shuffled into the master bath, slamming the door behind her. Her rectum rested on the toilet seat, digits forcing themselves into the migrain hidden beneath her forehead. She should have stopped at the second drink, she should have refused the handsome man's suggestion, she should have never left her home, there were so many things she shouldn't have done, but she preformed every task. Failing her husband, her sons, her daughter.
Lying in bed beside Dimond was Carlisle, the organ under her left breast beat rapidly. She wondered if he had suspission, doubts, fear. Topics once shared between the couple, were now secrets locked inside each one of them.
Created: Jan 26, 2010Document Media