Her favourite night was Friday.
He was out of the house. Every other working day, the brute would come back from the pub drunk and violent, but not on a Friday. On these nights, he’d be out until late, playing darts at the pub. There was always something both predictable and comforting in the knowledge that he would come home late, very late. He and his mates would play their game, then proceed to drink themselves silly until the place closed. He would then stagger home drunk and barely conscious. He would fumble and curse with his keys at the front door. She would let him in as a blast of cold night air swept in. She would stand well back as he scowled and clumsily climbed the stairs. Once in the bedroom, he would manage to climb into bed, fully-dressed, and pull up the covers.
There would be nothing said. No complaints or accusations, and never any of the usual brutality.
On this particular evening, she made sure the bedroom door was closed, before returning to the music that had been playing softly on the CD. Turning the volume up high, she returned to the foot of the stairs and waited for the screaming to start…
Although golden poison dart frogs live in the tropical rainforests of Central and South America, it’s amazing what can be purchased on the dark web!
