The car rumbled down the rutted dirt road, through the countryside. Clouds of dust billowed into the air behind it. In the back, a girl perched on the edge of a worn leather seat. Hands folded, eyes closed. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, forehead creased in consternation. Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes flickered nervously. In her mind, a thousand things were banging on the inside of her head, telling her to wake up and face reality.
A scream. The crash of a shattering plate. Her father's face, twisted in rage. A shard of porcelain flung at her. A searing cut. A slamming door and rain, rain. A wet dress clinging to her legs and back. Blood running down her face.
Gingerly, the girl lifted a finger and traced the ugly cut below her left eye that was only just beginning to heal. She could feel her heart hammering inside her thin frame, causing torrents of blood to rush through her veins. The girl hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin in the comfortable divot created by her two knees. She gazed absentmindedly at the dry landscape passing by. The dust had created a thin film that clung to the window, blurring the edges of the sporadic landmarks.
by elisabeth
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