Too late...
I wrote this following a prompt. Warning! It is a little dark.
The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time. Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She knew she would have to find somewhere to wash.
He used more force this time, and the wound is bleeding bright red, flowing down her knees. How was she going to explain this one to her husband? The previous time, she used the big root from the old sycamore tree as her excuse, tripping and falling and gashing her skin on the spade he left lying around. She still shudders to think how mortified he was, begging her forgiveness.
Oh god this can’t go on, but she is addicted to him, drawn in by his insatiable hunger for meting out pain. Only she can fill his need, and she gives it willingly, searing the tenderness of her soul to blackness. The darkness of his wishes makes her catch her breath every time, her pulse quickening and her resolve fading away. She would do anything for him, her soul she offered a long time ago.
She quickly dragged her pants back on and wiped the tears from her face, swallowing a sob. There is no time to think about it now, she has to pick up the baby from her neighbour and finish her daily tasks. Later tonight, she could lie on the old sofa on the patio remember each touch and conjure up the euphoria of his hands all over her body. Relive the sharp blade slicing into her thigh, bringing her to climax as he held her close to him. Hot breath and sweat mingled with the animal lust so intensely stark.
The car’s engine turns but it doesn’t ignite. Over and over she turns the key and nothing happens! Oh god, she can’t be stuck here in the middle of nowhere. What is she going to say she was doing there? Frantically, she looks around her, there are no houses this far out of town. That is the reason they chose this spot, she screamed every time they met.
An old truck suddenly appears and stops behind her as she turns to look. A man gets out and comes towards her. Thank god someone will help her and nobody will be the wiser. “Engine trouble,” he smirks. There is a look in his eyes that makes her hair stand on end. She turns to run away but he grabs her by the hair and drags her down to the ground. “I have watched the two of you for quite some time, and today is my turn with you,” he snarls.
While she stares into the blue sky with resignation, she knows today was the last day with her lover, and this was not only the end of her love affair but the end of her life.
Well done ~ Evocative and thought-provoking in such a short piece. I can't say I loved it, not my genre of choice, but well-executed, multilayered, and nuanced. I'm impressed!
This piece is raw, haunting, and deeply unsettling—in the way that only honest storytelling can be. You’ve captured the psychological entanglement of trauma and desire in a way that feels both intimate and terrifying. The contrast between her brutal reality and the mundanity of daily life (picking up the baby, car troubles) is especially powerful—it mirrors how pain often coexists with the ordinary, unnoticed by the world.
There’s something gothic here too, in the romanticisation of suffering and the inevitable, almost mythic ending. It’s a difficult read, but it forces the reader to sit with discomfort, which is exactly what good writing should do.