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An odd thought that came into my head whilst cleaning my bombsite of a bedroom and coming across an old bus ticket.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Poetry - Words: 106 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 1 - Published: 02-09-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2995949
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A+ A-
 Full 3/4 1/2  Expand Tighten 
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Wannabe Runaway
Her bedroom floor is covered
A wasteland
Of crumpled bus tickets
And train timetables.
Not a patch of carpet to be seen.
She sits on her bed
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Waiting for him to barge
Through the door.
His bloodshot eyes
And dark stubble scare her
As he staggers over to her side.
He raises a hand to stroke her face
But she moves away
So he slaps her instead.
She knows what's coming now.
He'll have his way and leave her
Shattered and broken once more.
Next time, she vows
As she always does
Next time, I won't get caught.
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