Leaving

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Her children no longer spoke to her.  She hated to admit it, but sometimes she preferred it that way.  She couldn’t bear looking into their pained, soulless eyes.

She’d suffered too.  She’d endured broken ribs, countless black eyes, busted lips and bloody noses.  She knew the sound of his broad fist barreling into her flesh so well.  Her children did too.

Her bag was light.  There wasn’t much from this place she wanted to keep.  She would drive across the country, show up on her daughter’s doorstep and beg her forgiveness, hoping she would let her in.

 

The Moral Mondays prompt this week is Better Late Than Never

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12 thoughts on “Leaving

    1. I think you’re right. But I don’t know what kind of trauma I would have growing up in that kind of environment. Thanks for reading and for commenting!

  1. Such a powerful story! I hope their children will find it in their hearts to forgive her. They were all victims, sadly. It just took her longer to realize it.

    1. Thanks, yes I hope they forgive her too. It has to be hard knowing your mother didn’t protect you from being abused, even though she was a victim too.

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