Horrific Fun

The middle aged woman saw everything on the ground.

She was crushed by physical domestic toil. She couldn’t straighten up and look in front of her. She stopped walking upright. Anyway, this pose suited her as she was closer to clutch her growling stomach and nestle it against her chest for warmth and some relief. Her tormentors were dissatisfied because she was far from breaking in. They continued their treatment to break her spirit.

Now the voice said: “You should be ashamed of yourself for not raising your brother-in-law’s children. You’re a cheap throwaway who couldn’t get married and that’s why you’re with my son. You don’t deserve to be in my family. You should be grateful and bring up those two children. They are the blue blood of my race. You are nothing! You disgust me. I spit on you! Phooey!”

The cripple shuffled away.

The old woman’s eyes gleamed in delight. Ha. For as long as she lives, tomorrow is another day for more horrific fun.

Verbal abuse.

Writing prompt:

There should not be selective mutism to silence the ugly of abuse.