CRY
FOR HELP
He
had one huge hand around my throat, the other tore open my blouse. Intent on
pulling my shorts down, he was oblivious to my clawing and scratching.
Finally,
he made the mistake of trying to kiss me.
I bit his disgusting lip and twisted away.
Up
on my feet, I ran screaming toward the phone box I remembered passing, hearing
him close behind me, spitting the blood from his mouth.
My
fault for running so late? Running alone?
The
goddamn phone box was broken. Then
I picked up the rock.
It’s
not my fault his skull cracked so easily.
This Dabble in FLASH FICTION is from FRIDAY FICTIONEERS courtesy of:
http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/05/22/24-may-2013/
and you can comment on mine below:
and you can comment on mine below:
