Please register or login to continue

Register Login

Hands That Hurt Her

Hands That Hurt Her

By SulfiricRomance

I hate it. Every day she comes with more scars. It's killing her. She's killing herself. But even more than that, it kills me to see her do it to herself. Even if i say that everything is going to be all right, she still goes, and she'll do it again.

She'll go home.

And his drunken hands, the same hands that have touched bottle after bottle, smoke after smoke, are shaking with anger when she arrives.

And those hands, furious hands that have hurt her day after day, night in, night out, will do it again. Slap her, punch her, push her, shove her, kick her, smother. The hands that leave scars everywhere, all over her. But you wouldn't know it. She hides them. Long sleeved shorts, no matter the temperature. But believe you me, they're there. They loom in the shadows, the crevices, the creases, of her skin.

They spot a purple and blue hue at her neck, and dot a deep blue across her shoulders. They spiral with cuts and scrapes a repulsing red all down her rib cage, into her stomach, where they become more sparse. Then cuts, now a dark brown, except the fresher ones, stripe her lower back. Then, the most heart wrenching of all, a scar that's around eighteen inches long, now a deep green, right across her shoulder blades where he striked her with a red-hot fireplace poker.

And it's horrendous.
And it breaks my heart.
And she won't get help.
She lets him destroy her.
Her father.
My father.

Leave your comments below, and rate. Tell me what you think, and if i should write another one. Click on my name to read a few other stories by me. My website & email address will be open for you all soon. Any constructive criticism welcome!!


copyright 2011 Sulfiric Romance

Recommend Write a ReviewReport

Share Tweet Pin Reddit
About The Author
About This Story
28 Mar, 2011
Read Time
1 min
No reviews yet

Please login or register to report this story.

More Stories

Please login or register to review this story.