(100-word flash fiction)
She bit into the last chip, its salty crispiness flooding her mouth. She was so ravenous for comfort that she forgot.
It was only when he entered the room that she remembered. The last of everything was to be ALWAYS his, the last cookie, the last piece of cake, the last chip.
“I was hungry,“ she stammered, as he examined the packet, almost banal in its emptiness.
The first blow caught her in mid-whimper. The second landed her on the floor. The boot knocked her out.
The lock-down is on. No one will see her bruises for a long time.
Domestic violence cases have gone up by more than 20% since the lock-down started. Violence is so much on the mind, I couldn’t find any playfulness 😦
I hope all of you in the US are safe. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the fabulous Friday Fictioneers fabulously, as always.
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