The Cellar

“My Whisky bottle. I know you like a tipple.”

“Oh,” she said, “I thought you… oh never mind.”

“I’ll be off to change the beer barrel as no doubt you didn’t get round to changing it last night.” He wandered off laughing down the stairs.

Fiona flinched as she shifted her body weight. She moved back the sheets and saw, to her horror, the red and bruised patches around her groin. Then, glancing down to the end of the bed she saw her neatly piled clothes.

As Fiona looked more closely she saw that the pile contained her tattered blouse and torn knickers.

She gulped a large mouth of air trying to take in what she was seeing as a solitary tear ran down her right cheek.

THE END