Dragon Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonjournal) wrote2015-05-31 06:33 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2015-05-31 06:33 pm
Bingo Prompt: Favorite relative
“Is he here yet?”
The soft question drew the mother’s head around from the dinner cooking on the stove. She forced a smile on her face and shook her head. The little girl looked crestfallen, her tiny hands tightened on the bear she clutched to her chest. She slunk back into the play room, letting her mother cook.
Her mother closed her eyes and sighed, before opening them and watching the onions in the pan. The little girl would be doomed to be disappointed yet again. Her favorite wasn’t coming. Her mother doubted that he would ever come again, not after last time.
The sound of a hand cracking against flesh echoes around them. She stares at the hand, then at the man in front of her.
“Heather.” His deep rumble made her tremble in place. She almost turns and runs, but this is her house. He’s the intruder here. “I’m going.”
She feels like she should call him back, beg his forgiveness, even though it had been his smacking of her that had made her smack him back. Heather stares at his back. He’s supposed to be taking their daughter, little Lily, with him. But she doubts that he ever will again. He always punishes Lily when Heather does something “wrong”.
The slam of his truck door makes her jump. She stares after him when he peels out of the gravel driveway. Her cheek throbs, reminding her why her hand still stings. Heather turns for the house.
The boiling over of the pasta brought her back to the present. The onions are done, the pasta ready. She scrapes the onions into the pasta sauce bubbling on the stove and drains the spaghetti, ready to finish dinner and feed her daughter.
Heather sighed again, staring out the window. He’s going to disappoint their little Lily, all because she wouldn’t be his punching bag any more.
After dinner was eaten, and the dishes washed, after baths were had, and stories read, Heather tucked Lily into bed, making sure her favorite bear was right there next to her.
“Mommy?” Lily stopped her before she could shut off the overhead light.
“Yes, Lily?” Heather asked, pausing in the doorway.
“You’re my favorite.” Lily whispered, sleepily.
Heather felt the tears well up. “You’re my favorite too.” She flipped off the light and closed the door, so only a crack of light could be seen.
The soft question drew the mother’s head around from the dinner cooking on the stove. She forced a smile on her face and shook her head. The little girl looked crestfallen, her tiny hands tightened on the bear she clutched to her chest. She slunk back into the play room, letting her mother cook.
Her mother closed her eyes and sighed, before opening them and watching the onions in the pan. The little girl would be doomed to be disappointed yet again. Her favorite wasn’t coming. Her mother doubted that he would ever come again, not after last time.
The sound of a hand cracking against flesh echoes around them. She stares at the hand, then at the man in front of her.
“Heather.” His deep rumble made her tremble in place. She almost turns and runs, but this is her house. He’s the intruder here. “I’m going.”
She feels like she should call him back, beg his forgiveness, even though it had been his smacking of her that had made her smack him back. Heather stares at his back. He’s supposed to be taking their daughter, little Lily, with him. But she doubts that he ever will again. He always punishes Lily when Heather does something “wrong”.
The slam of his truck door makes her jump. She stares after him when he peels out of the gravel driveway. Her cheek throbs, reminding her why her hand still stings. Heather turns for the house.
The boiling over of the pasta brought her back to the present. The onions are done, the pasta ready. She scrapes the onions into the pasta sauce bubbling on the stove and drains the spaghetti, ready to finish dinner and feed her daughter.
Heather sighed again, staring out the window. He’s going to disappoint their little Lily, all because she wouldn’t be his punching bag any more.
After dinner was eaten, and the dishes washed, after baths were had, and stories read, Heather tucked Lily into bed, making sure her favorite bear was right there next to her.
“Mommy?” Lily stopped her before she could shut off the overhead light.
“Yes, Lily?” Heather asked, pausing in the doorway.
“You’re my favorite.” Lily whispered, sleepily.
Heather felt the tears well up. “You’re my favorite too.” She flipped off the light and closed the door, so only a crack of light could be seen.