Prompt Number Thirty Seven: Domestic
Word Count (discounting A/Ns): 166
I sat in my room, a book in my hand. Downstairs, my parents were talking.
'James, you need to stop. You won't be able to handle it.'
'I'll be fine, Hannah. I can take it.'
'Just this week alone, you've had thirteen bottles! And it's only Thursday!'
'Hannah, listen to me. I'll be fine. I promise you.'
Silence.
'James, please. At least reduce the amount. Please.'
'I need it, Hannah. I need the push. I need the motivation.'
'You have me, don't you? And you have Flora and Miele.'
'I know. And you're all three my best girls. You know that. But I also need this.'
'Mum?' I asked. 'What's wrong?' My mother was crying.
'Your father… he… walked out…' she sniffed 'He… he said he had… better things to do.'
And then she broke down.
Flora sat back against the tree as she finished explaining to Riven what happened with her stepfather. And how she should have realised that he was dead well before summer.
