The delicate pink roses lay trodden on, on the floor. Melanie screamed as he struck another blow. She wished she hadn't mentioned his drinking at all. She wished she could take it all back and pretend she was fine with their relationship, with his mood swings. She was such an idiot for mentioning it in the first place - it was all her fault for provoking him. He was in such a good mood when he got home, had bought her roses and everything. And then she had to go and ruin it all. stupid, stupid, stupid. When he was in a good mood, all was right with the world; the sun shone and she glimpsed the chance of the life she craved. She had thought it would be a good time to bring up some of the things that had been troubling her, maybe even tell him about the baby. In a good mood, he could be nothing but happy, right? wrong. she hadn't even told him yet and here he was, punching her over and over. Kicking her when she was down.
Fifteen minutes later she was still lying on the kitchen floor, face turned towards those dirty pink roses, and they were mocking her, reminding her that all attempts at happiness were futile; she knew, she just knew that the baby was gone. and so were her dreams.
Just a bit of fiction for you to read :) i hate colour themes and I never know what to write, so i wrote a story. hope you like it :)
Fifteen minutes later she was still lying on the kitchen floor, face turned towards those dirty pink roses, and they were mocking her, reminding her that all attempts at happiness were futile; she knew, she just knew that the baby was gone. and so were her dreams.
Just a bit of fiction for you to read :) i hate colour themes and I never know what to write, so i wrote a story. hope you like it :)
