The force of the old woman’s hand across
Charlotte’s cheek knocked the young girl’s glasses off her face and onto the
floor.
“That fresh mouth of yours may have been tolerated
in your parents’ house, but you’re in my house now,” the old woman said.
Tendrils of bright red spread across her tender
flesh, the burn a welcome relief from that which tore at her from inside.
Charlotte did not flinch as she picked up her
glasses, set them back on her face and met her aunt’s steely gaze with one of her
own.
The accident that had taken her family had taken
all her tears.
This post
from the prompt “fresh” at Five Sentence Fiction.
