Five Days – Day Four

I was watching a documentary on the evil scourge that is domestic abuse…

She fell to her knees, her arms clasped over her head

He was shouting

She could feel the rage, coming in waves

She daren’t look up,

He would kick her, he always kicked her and that last broken rib had taken its own sweet time to heal.

She could hear him swigging from the bottle,

The ugly sound as the rotgut flowed down his throat to ignite the physical onslaught that would surely follow

He was bad tonight, she had seen it as soon as the door burst open and he’d come staggering in, his eyes burning with malice

He’d been laid off, again.

Three jobs this year, come and gone like the few cents she made from doing the washing for Number 24 on Nob Hill,

She closed her eyes and prayed.

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