Ruined 25

Avery

It smelt funny, wrong somehow even half asleep it made me want to gag. And the bed I was laying on felt wrong. Hard and lumpy. It made even my bed back at my fathers feel like it was made from a cloud.

My eyes fluttered open, and the dim light sent a wave of white-hot pain through my head. That’s when it came back to me.

It was all wrong because I wasn’t at home, or at my father’s. I was in a bar and my asshole of an ex-husband had punched me in the face.

It came back to me in a rush, everything that had happened.

That son of a bitch, groaning I forced myself to sit upright. Glancing around me. No wonder it felt like a plank of wood was under me, it wasn’t a bed at all. It was a table. A long table. With what looked like chains at either end.

Now, why would a table need chains, unless?

I swung my legs off the table, and they dangled, swinging wildly as white-hot pain speared my brain again.

That son of a bitch had knocked me out. He had closed his fist and sucker punched me.