∎∎∎ the pain cuts through her throat and her chest and her lower abdomen like a rusty knife that’s been used too many times. it’s familiar, something akin to a warm hug but in destructive form. it’s all zakia had known in their relationship with richie because everything, even the sex, even the warmest and softest of kisses, had been once permeated by ache. she tries to breathe through their words, as they sink into her and force her to keep her face still, her body stiller, yet it’s useless in the end—how can she not react ? how can she now flinch when they curse and vomit lies at her, or worse, truths said with such bluntness they border on cruelty ? zakia smiles, then, bitter. the expression is all teeth, teeth like fangs ready to break skin. “ please, ” she whispers. still, the house is silent enough for it to be heard. “ you wouldn’t recognize a happy family even if it slapped you in the face. ” she knows it’s a low blow, but how many of those has she received from richie without a second thought ? she’s tired of taking care of their ego and the broken child who lives protected by it. she observes them retreat to their bedroom and for a moment, only for a moment, she considers leaving things there, leaving them to simmer until she’s less exhausted. however, the sarcasm in their words makes her bristle. she won’t allow them to trample her again, not today. “ daddy is always tired when they have to face the consequences of their actions, aren’t they ? ” she asks with the same bitterness of her laugh. “ but they’re never tired when they have to fuck one of their whores, right ? ” zakia reaches them, crosses their path, and stops them, her face milimeters away from theirs. “ what was it this time, richie ? why couldn’t you get your dick up ? and don’t tell me it was remorse because god knows you don’t know what that is. ”
