leatherdykeuk: (damaged goods)
[personal profile] leatherdykeuk
Warning: Language



Beth put a hand to her cheek, the torrent of vitriol she's been spewing suddenly halted. “You hit me.”

Her mother's eyes flashed. “Perhaps you shouldn't call me a whore then.”

Beth could feel the heat in her cheek. She could imagine what it looked like. A red welf in the shape of her mother's palm, a mark for all the world to see. The mark would fade quickly enough but the wound she felt inside would burn for a thousand years. Betrayal. She took her hand away, her resolve hardening. “Well you are a whore. A Tart. A slapper. A skank. You're a minging cunt.”

She ducked the second slap and stormed upstairs, dodging the slow but bulky bodybuilder in the hall. “Now look here, young lady. You can't talk to your mother like that.”

“And you can fuck off an' all.” Beth took a double step around him. “Or do you want to tell her about grabbing my tits in the kitchen last Saturday?”

“That was an accident. I tripped.” He turned as her mother came up the stairs. “Honest love.”

“Beth.” Her mother glared at her. “Bethany. You come here this instant.”

Beth ignored her, charging into her room and slamming the door closed, just in time before her mum could see the tears. She leaned against the door, sliding down it until her bum was on the floor. Outside the door she could hear the rising argument as her mum tackled the chest grabbing incident. That wasn't all the creepy wanker had been doing, either. She'd lost count of the times he 'didn't realise she was in the bathroom'.

She took a deep breath. School, arguments and betrayal. These had become the basic themes of her life since Dad had gone. The stupid cow could give her cunt a rest, could she? Now she'd ruined everything.

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