He kicked for the fourth time that day – but this time it
was followed by a sharp pain that shot down my spine and into the back of my
knee. I bent over slightly, relieving myself of the discomfort and noticing
something decidedly squashed beneath my peach pump. I heaved down onto the bed
and reached for it – the wrinkled paper took its time to part with my shoe as
it was fastened by the elastic minty unease of a piece of gum. I looked around
the room to check for more littered surprises but all that tired sun could find
for me was a dampened dark spot on the carpet just near the doorway. I took a
deep breath in as he kicked again. A vile fusion of instant smash, toilet spray
and moth balls painted the air – I was craving rocks again. Avoiding the gum I
opened the paper – it was a till slip.
R25 Cream donuts. R34 Malboro
gold. R40 Dulex tender play. R 15 Bath sponge. R60 Chef Dinkleys kitchen knife.
I felt like I needed to look around the room one more time
in case I was missing something. But the room said nothing. It just stared back
at me – unblinking - like the hole in the gate at the bottom of the garden. Oh
god – I touched my belly. Is this what he really wanted for me?
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