Chapter 5 - THE SOUND OF BURNING SKIN
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even the hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen seemed to stop.
The man’s right shoulder pulled backward.
The cotton of his light blue shirt stretched to its absolute limit across his back.
His hand moved faster than the eye could track.
The palm of his hand collided with the left side of the woman’s face.
CRACK.
The sound was sharp, wet, and final.
It echoed off the high ceiling and the glass cabinets.
The force of the impact whipped her head violently to the right.
Her brown hair flew across her face, sticking to the corner of her mouth.
She stumbled sideways, her stiletto heel catching on the edge of the woven rug.
Her hip slammed against the mahogany table, sending the wine glass tipping over.
Red liquid spilled across the polished wood, dripping steadily onto the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The woman slowly turned her head back to the center.
Her right hand rose, her fingertips hovering just millimeters over her left cheek.
Beneath her skin, a fierce, dark red swelling was already blooming, taking the exact shape of a large handprint.
The skin pulsed, radiating heat into the cool, air-conditioned room.
The man did not rub his hand.
He stood perfectly still, his knuckles resting against the seam of his dark trousers.
He leaned down, his face hovering just inches from her ear.
"You do not touch my child."
The words were cold, stripping every ounce of warmth from the ambient lighting of the room.
The woman’s chest heaved.
May you like
She stared past him, her eyes glassy, fixated on the red wine soaking into the white rug.
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