Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'IT' nor am I profiting from this.
Pairing(s): none.
Warning(s): none.
Word Count: 105.
Her body aches from the drive; greasy with sweat and too many fast food meals. Her aunt collapses into a kitchen chair, sighing and fanning her plump red face.
"I promise you a better supper tomorrow," she says. "Is there anything in particular you want?"
Her father isn't around anymore with demands that she deep fry his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. What does she even like? What are her choices? Her aunt continues fanning her face which is slowly returning to its normal color.
Her father is no longer around to give her whippings, but her heart still stutters when she says, "I like anything."