Broken shards of glasses on the floor. A piece of broken glass stained with blood lay across a picture of them.
"A week. That was how long it took me to get sick of you!" he yelled at her in anger, sweeping the contents of the table onto the floor. Books, magazines, laptops and their picture. Crash, crash, crash.
Too tired to fight any longer. Too hurt to yell. Too sick of crying. She stood there and stared at the items on the floor. A look of indifference on her face.
He came up to her and grabbed her wrist so tightly that it hurt, a look of maniac anger entered his eyes.
She continued to stared at the items and remained silent.
He shoved her onto the floor and stomped out of the house.
That was 8 hours ago. An hour after they had snuggled up to each other and fell asleep the whole day. An hour after they promised never to fight again. An hour after they took that silly picture and framed it up.
That very picture on the floor right now.
8 hours. She hasn't moved from where he left her. On the floor. Back against the wall. A throbbing wrist.
"A week. That was how long it took me to get sick of you!" he yelled at her in anger, sweeping the contents of the table onto the floor. Books, magazines, laptops and their picture. Crash, crash, crash.
Too tired to fight any longer. Too hurt to yell. Too sick of crying. She stood there and stared at the items on the floor. A look of indifference on her face.
He came up to her and grabbed her wrist so tightly that it hurt, a look of maniac anger entered his eyes.
She continued to stared at the items and remained silent.
He shoved her onto the floor and stomped out of the house.
That was 8 hours ago. An hour after they had snuggled up to each other and fell asleep the whole day. An hour after they promised never to fight again. An hour after they took that silly picture and framed it up.
That very picture on the floor right now.
8 hours. She hasn't moved from where he left her. On the floor. Back against the wall. A throbbing wrist.
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