For Whom the Bells Toll
The girls, 11-year old Cara and her 8-year old sister Maria, had learned what to do and they quickly, quietly ran toward the front door and closed it carefully and even more quietly behind them.
Their mother, Sandra, got back to her feet and said, “Josh, that’s the last time you will knock me down, and I’m not going to watch you sit in the dark and scream at the slightest giggle from the girls anymore,” Sandra said.
She kept out of her husband’s reach as he struggled to raise himself from his chair in the darkened den, just as she had hidden herself and the girls from him those other times.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Sandy,” said Josh, a former NFL defensive tackle, “there’s no way to make it better, to make the headaches or tinnitus even marginally passable, other than that damn medication or I drop dead.”
Turning to the door, Sandra said over her aching shoulder, “You’re right, you won’t have to tell me again that you don’t like taking your medicine–which was the reason you gave the last time you hit me and pushed Cara–so I left that gift you gave me for protection when you were on the road in the nightstand drawer…protect us.”
Here is my latest Five Sentence Fiction offering, based on a prompt from Lillie McFerrin. This week: Ringing.