Flash Fiction Project

Give Her Hell

"Stop! You're hurting me!" Maryanne shrieked.

"Shut up bitch," I growled as I violently continued to pull on her hair.

"Isaac, please! I'm sorry!" She was crying now. Good. She deserved it.

"So now you know how I feel. It's about time, harlot!" Clumps of her blonde locks were now in the palm of my hand. But I didn't care. She certainly didn't care about me, so why should I care about her?

"Stop!" Maryanne gasped in between sobs.

I seized her arms, letting go of her hair momentarily. I shoved her furiously onto the floor to shut the bitch up. Her head slammed into the hardwood with an obscenely audible thud, making her nose excrete a trickle of bright-red blood. She moaned, dazed and in obvious pain, which made my smile widen and my eyes light up. God, this feels good, I thought.

"Pluuuuuhhhh staaaaahhhhh," Maryanne coraked. It was clear she had suffered a concussion.

The loud crash of my formerly beloved smashing into the floor must have awoken Ben and Jessie because as soon as I knew it, they appeared at the doorway of my bedroom with mortified expressions painted on their faces.

"Mommy!" Jessie squealed as she ran to Maryanne.

But I wasn't going to have it.

"Both of you," I grumbled snatching Jessie in my arms, fighting back her kicking, "get out!" I plopped Jessie outside with Ben. They both were frozen in fear. They would be just as mad as I was if they knew what a whore their mother was, but now was not the time for them to be punished. It was time for Maryanne.

Maryanne had slowly begun to crawl toward the door, coaxing me to slam it in her face, blowing her scraggly yellow back in a quick gust. Her face was pale white and tears streaked her flushed cheeks. Good.

I bent down to her level, once again seizing her hair in my grasp, causing her to wince. But she couldn't fight back, and I'm not sure if she even could. I yanked on her hair to force her to face me, eye-to-eye. She flinched and squealed like a mouse. Good.

"Is this what you wanted?" I shouted directly in her face. "Our family ruined?"

"Iiiiissssaaaa," she muttered, spitting blood and saliva into my face. For that, and for all the other unholy transgressions Maryanne made against our family, I gave her the back of my hand. Hard. She yelped like a kicked puppy and collapsed onto the floor once more with a familiar thud. Good.

"Do you feel that?" I belted. "That's how I felt when I saw your lips on Mike Hanley!" She didn't respond, bodily nor verbally. As I began to tear up, I could hear the drone of police sirens close outside. I supposed the neighbors heard the ruckus we were making, but I didn't care. As long as Maryanne was feeling what I felt inside, whatever was to happen to me would be worth it.