Panther Park i.ii : so have a good drown as you go down all alone

The girl spat venom at her backside, and Dianne scoffed at the notion that she was making fun of her. Talk about projection, She wryly thought, unfaltering in her pace. This kid needed to work on her insecurity issues. How the hell did she expect people to react upon seeing those hideous deformities? Whatever, Dianne couldn't care less if the girl thought she was making fun of her or not. She had her own issues to worry about, she didn't have time to squabble with some angsty teenager. Dianne was fully intent on not saying another word until the brat felt the need to toss in her stupid attempt at some kind of jab. Oh, so she also had control issues.

If Dianne were in a better mood, she would've kept silent. But she wasn't; she was hurting as much as the stranger was, though Dianne was far better at keeping the pain under control (read: repressed). She was briefly reminded of why she was even here in the first place, out in some forest by herself now getting an earful from some troubled kid. Her suppressed emotions boiled within her, bubbling to the surface until they spilled over. She stopped.

That's the plan. Can you see that, or are your eyes broken, too? Dianne finally spat back, shooting her an icy glare over her shoulder. Any pain that may have shown itself on the girl's face wouldn't phase her one bit. Her intention was to hurt, and she'd feel no remorse about it. After she'd gotten her bite in, Dianne would keep walking. Yes, she was a bitch, thank you for noticing.