Haven't you heard, "Don't hit a lady?":
Day has given way to heavy darkness. She has given way to weighty guilt.
He is gone now but not before leaving his mark. Standing shirtless before her mirror she studies her abdomen, mottled with bruises, swollen and tender. Blue and purple, freshly given; yellow and green, fading with time. It's almost beautiful- his perverse masterpiece on her pale canvas. Colors were never so violent before him.
Turning away, she delicately slips on a shirt, erasing his disappointment the only way she can. Turning off the light, she feels she can finally disappear.
Maybe he won't come back this time.















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