The frosty grass crunched under my bare feet, my toes numb. The muscles in my legs weak after walking so long. I could still smell smoke in the cold morning air.
I had rinsed the gasoline off my hands in a stream, the cold water had hurt so bad, deep down in the bone. But my hands went numb after that too, the pain invisible now. The only pain left was in my heart, in my soul.
But this was it, freedom, no more punching, no more words. He was gone for good, I made sure of that.
Under 100 words this time! I’ve never managed that before.
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.