"i'm gonna fucking k i l l that bastard."
were the first words
out
of
your
mouth
when you'd seen me
monday morning at the park.
your
pale brown eyes,
glistening with unshed tears.
you glared at the bruises that coated my arms,
your golden
hair being ruffled by the
w
i
n d.
"why didn't you call me?"
no answer.
"he was drunk, wasn't he?"
i nodded.
"he could have killed you..."
you spoke, your expression leaving,
your
grimace
setting,
your fists clenching.
and even though i hadn't said it,
i wanted to cry again at the thought,
i
want
to
die.
YOU ARE READING
touched ✓
Short Storystory #2 in the 'for the flawed' series. tw | abuse every night you held me. making me feel disgusting, because you were the s e c o n d to touch me. © 2014 flawed- (lowercase intended for stylistic purposes.) [Jan 16, 2015:: #2 in short story.]
