003 !! CORA

Tap, tap, tap goes the muffled clicking against the rugged wooden floor, a soft shuffling sound resounding through the walls of the pale pink wallpaper covered room.

A record player sits idle by the wide desk situated near the window, expensive blackout curtains bathing the space in darkness even as the morning sun roars behind the glass windows aching to slither in and claim another expanse for its glowering rays.

Perfectly manicured silver coated fingernails grasp the material of the curtains swaying with the cool flow of the air conditioner filling out the room.

Nimble fingers pull the curtains aside revealing a lazy morning glow shining over the outside world with a formidable energy reverberating off the white washed walls of the million dollar houses lining the street.

The fingers retract from the fabric, the pointed stilettos inching back as the curved ankles maneuver over to the king sized bed housing a sleepy brunette underneath its thin patterned duvet.

"Ember, time to get up".

The heeled figure, clad in a classic black pencil skirt and a light coloured blouse to match, is greeted by a tired groan from the bed.

Unrelenting, the figure steps up to the bed pulling at the duvet covering her daughter which only earns her a yelp of protest — a mumbled yell of something along the lines of "I'm exhausted!".

"It's 11 o'clock already. I'm afraid I can't let you sleep in any longer".

The figure on the bed swats away her mother's hand burrowing herself deep into the silk sheets.

An exaggerated sigh leaves her mother's dark red lips, a few strands of her pinned up hair escaping to frame her face as she pulls on the duvet once more.

"I'm busy and I need to talk to you about something important. Get up, right now".

Ember once again throws her hand out to incoherently ask her mother to leave but Diane Du Pont is, if anything, a fairly impatient woman who can never — if ever — lose sight of control.

Control reins in chaos and chaos reins in madness. For one to survive in the Du Pont household, one has to be tactful enough to maintain control and avoid the madness.

You lose the game if you let your mind astray, is what she'd tell her daughter on a regular day as she'd tut at her progeny's stubbornness.

But today is not a regular day.

She easily catches Ember's wrist between her painted nails and practically drags her whining daughter to the edge of the bed.

"Up, up, Cora".

The use of her middle name has Ember silently raising a brow, her mouth twisting into a scowl as she hauls herself up against the headboard.

Her mother rarely uses her daughter's middle name, reserving it only for when she needs to convey the gravity of a situation through a simple word.

The thing is had it really been up to Diane, Ember would not have been Ember at all.

She'd be Cora Irene Du Pont, the youngest of the entire Du Pont family born only as a proof of her parents' undying devotion to each other.

The Du Ponts truly thought having a second child was the way to repair their failing marriage and Diane fiercely believed in herself and her husband.

But the problem soon became clear when as a thirty-six year old mother of two, she sat in the hospital suite staring at her husband in shock and betrayal.

Utter, utter betrayal.

"I thought we agreed on Cora!", Diane had yelled at the grimacing man in the three-piece suit stood by the end of the bed with his hands in his pockets.

"No. We agreed to let it be an option. Now though", he'd cleared his throat, "it hardly seems appropriate. You know how my mother is about these things, I think naming her after my gran would be quite nice".

"Nice? She is your daughter, Jacques! Not a commodity! I will not have my daughter be called Marguerite. No, I refuse to".

"Don't be stubborn, Di", Jacques had stepped up taking his wife's hand in his, her glare not softening a bit, "It is a beautiful name".

With eyes cutting deep into his skin, she had looked up bristling at his audacity.

"Perhaps for you it is. But I, for one, am not particularly keen on letting my daughter roam around with such an old fashioned name".

Jacques had sigh — as if the mere thought of his post-labour wife disagreeing with him on anything was a childish matter in itself.

"How about her middle name then?".

Diane perked a brow, "Ember, you mean?".

"Yes", Jacques confirmed, "That, is another beautiful name. I'm sure you can see her growing up as an Ember. It suits her too. Yes, I think that's quite perfect actually".

Finally, finally Diane relented and nodded with a sharp glance at her husband.

"Fine but she gets Cora for the middle name".

"I can live with that".

Now, Diane sits gazing upon her sixteen year old daughter sitting up in bed with a frown clearly fighting a headache caused by excess alcohol consumption.

Oh, heavens.

"I've just received report that there was a gun shot at a party last night. A party within the Southside bounds, specifically".

Ember makes no sound of recognition, no move at all to suggest that she's surprised or shocked or simply dreading what is to come.

"I gather you were at a party last night? At the Boneyard?".

Ember only shrugs rubbing the back of her tangled hair.

Diane clears her throat, "The question now is, why wasn't I informed of this? By you, I mean".

Ember blinks showing no signs of regret or recollection.

Nothing at all.

Goodness, I've taught her well.

"Have you forgotten how to speak?", her mother prompts irritated.

Ember shrugs again deliberately choosing to infuriate Diane.

"I don't know what you want me to say".

"A confirmation or anything to prove your vocal chord's still intact would be nice".

The younger brunette laughs, "What do you even want me to do about that? It wasn't me, in case you were wondering. I'm a little saner than that".

Diane inhales sharply, shaking her head.

"A firearm was discharged at a party you were attending. You, my daughter. I have every right to be concerned about that".

Ember rolls her eyes, "Relax. It was nothing, just a fight gone a little rogue".

"Ember, this is not something to be casual about".

"Sorry I don't like dwelling on the past?", she huffs shifting under the covers.

Her mother only fixes her with a scrutinising gaze.

"I expect you to be more responsible".

Ember lets out a dramatic sigh — ever her mother's daughter, "Again, not my fault. I was just a bystander and I'm here in one piece, aren't I? Let it go".

"Ember".

Another loud sigh.

"Fine, I'll be careful from next time onwards. Call you as soon as someone punches someone else because obviously you're the discipline police around here. All hail Diane Du Pont", she mocks a salute riling up her mother yet again.

"Must you be so nonchalant about literally everything?".

Ember squints, "Must you be so overbearing about literally everything?".

Diane shakes her head disapprovingly.

"And to think you're the brightest in the family", she smiles faintly knowing very well that she's struck a nerve, "I had another thing to tell you. Bash is coming to visit in a few days".

"He told you that?", Ember mumbles indifferently.

"Yes, he did. Taking some time off to come see his parents and baby sister, I'm sure you're excited".

The former frowns, "And why would that be?".

"He's your brother, you haven't seen him in months. I suppose that's reason enough".

"If you say so", she murmurs glancing away.

Diane sighs standing up to take her leave, she pats her daughter's shoulders as she goes to walk out.

"Get dressed if you want to make anything of the remaining day. It's already late enough".

The older woman turns twisting the doorknob and stepping out, a muttered "Yes, ma'am" following her into the hallway.

***
and what if i said diane is a milf