May’s Flower

 

‘Come here,’ he said, slipping his arm around me. ‘I’ve something for you,’ smiling, he pulled his fingers through my hair, pushed it behind my ears; his eyes twinkling, he twisted a flower into it.

I giggled, swayed my hips like the sexy senorita I imagined myself to be.

‘A spring flower for my May,’ he said, nibbling my ear.

‘That hurts.’

‘Sorry,’ he whispered, his lips tickling my cheek.

Then it wasn’t his lips, but a feather.

I laughed, threw my head back.

The flower fluttered to the ground, petals scattered everywhere.

‘Stupid bitch,’ he yelled, pulling my hair.

 


 

Comments

  1. Patricia Feinberg Stoner23 November 2020 at 15:24

    WOW. In one hundred words this story captures the uncertainty and menace of what is obviously an abusve relationship. It gave me chills.

    ReplyDelete

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