She felt the sting of his fingers as she walked down the road. She could still smell the whisky that stained his breath. She thought that if she kept walking, the memory would go away. Like it never happened. Though she knew it will never leave her mind.
She walked barefoot in the warm summer evening. Her curly blonde hair a mess from the wind. Her freckles were joined by speckles of tears, the ones that didn’t want to leave her alone. Her bottom lip was split, blood covered it like lipstick. Her white dress was stained with cigarette burns, drips of beer, and tears.
The sky was black with storm clouds. The smell of rain hung in the air. Angel didn’t care. She just kept walking, wishing her home would blow away in the wind.