I lay there. On the ground. Covered in blood.
I promised myself I wouldn't cry. This would be the last time. I was leaving him.
What was it this time? I had not yet done the dishes. How was I supposed to know he was coming home early?
He threw me around the kitchen. You'd think it was a wrestling match the way he threw me against the wall. I was near deaf from the screaming of his voice in my ear. Each time he opened his mouth to yell another insult, he'd spray my face with spit. I had had enough and apparently so had he.
He threw me through the glass door and walked upstairs. I lay there, covered in blood. Humiliated.
Any other time, I would have gotten up, cleaned up the blood and glass and proceeded to do the dishes. But not today. Today I was leaving. Piece by piece I pulled the shards of glass from my flesh and left them there as a mess on the floor. I grabbed my handbag and made my way to the front door, looking back only once where the glass stained red with blood lay. My last thought as I walked through that door was that he would have to clean that up and it brought a smile to my lips.
A.N: I am going to definitely complete my larger stories and they are my first priority but I find it easy to write one shots to get over my writers block. You never know, these might be turned into full length stories later :)
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