Prompt #1: Crux
The dark bruise that decorated her cheek stung, an unwelcome reminder of this evening’s topic. Even though she was careful in today’s spar her opponent managed to check her, just under her eye. Body shots she could hide or pretend not to notice, but the bruise was now purple and swollen against her dark brown skin. The maids didn’t want to be punished, not that Dobela would ever think of it, and so it was reported. Her father’s honey colored eyes fell on her with a conflicted expression, “Doe..” She grit her teeth and felt her cheek sting again but replied softly, “Yes’sir.”
Before the man could speak his wife cut in, words like a blade, “Y’not goin’ t’keep doin’ this! Every time we turn’bout here you are on gettin’ beat up by somethin! Why can’t y’pick up a normal hobby? What happen’!? The garden, don’ya like the garden we got yous? Or the knittin’ wheel?” Dobela nodded against the onslaught, “I like’em, I use them too.” “So why? Why go an’ get y’self hurt when we try so hard t’keep you safe?” Her father’s voice was far from a relief to his other half. Dobela found herself wanting to sink further into the hard, stiff, seat. She felt cornered. “I’m careful.” “It’s not about you being careful Dobela!” Her mother reached out like a viper to gently caress her daughters face, velvet on stained silk. “How is this careful to you?!” “It doesn’t hurt Ma.” The older woman sighed, even with her lively personality and eternally youthful appearance Dobela would see the wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes. There was a long faded scar in her mother’s hairline, just over her left eye, that she’d always wondered about but never felt the need to ask. Loving hands remained and confusion settled in as she watched her mother’s face fall. Her father spoke softly from the other side of the room, “That ain’t the point, Doe.” and her Mother followed just behind, “I don’ know how t’make you understan’ why this is so serious Bels, you gotta stop.”
