A 100-word story
(TRIGGER WARNING: This story includes domestic/sexual abuse.)
He always
apologized after; “I’m sorry” dripping off his tongue as he gently cradled her
in his arms; fingers gliding over her damp skin; caressing as if healing. The
names he’d called her dissolving in the dark.
In the morning, he’d be tender;
kissing her; saying “I love you” before leaving for work, and his shame would
burn off like fog in the sunshine. Showering washed away the smell of him, the
taste, the…residue. This time, the pain, her bruises – already ugly
yellow-brown – would fade forever. She watched his car turn the corner before
she dared to breathe.
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