James heard his mother crying down the hall, in the kitchen. There was nothing worse than hearing her cry. For so many years he had tried to protect her from him, allowing himself to be his punching bag, but it didn’t always work. His father never hit her, thankfully, but sometimes words hurt more than physical blows. And the man knew how to make his verbal assaults cut like a knife, right in her most vulnerable places.




Posted in 69

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s