Photo prompt: © Mikhael Sublett
“You’ll see,” he lifted the mallet to strike again.
She cringed as plaster and glass and bits of home clattered to the ground. Every resonating thud another shattering, another ruin, another wound that would not heal.
She bit her lips and knew she’ll never be the same.
For not stopping him. For not standing up to him. For not listening to all who’d warned her that he was a loose cannon who’d bring only sorrow. For insisting she loved him.
She saw now.
And stood silent as his mallet dented will. Her life in shards, devoid even of tears.
Note: Dedicated to all who live with violence and do not know a way out into help. Know that there is always hope, that you deserve a chance to heal, and that you need not carry shame.