Image by Manny Moreno
Wishing it hadn’t come to this, she turned back for one last look. The car, a cloud of dust behind it, slowly rumbled into the distance as he drove away from her. It could have been different; she’d hoped it would be different; in reality, it wasn’t.
It was at that moment, standing in the soft breeze outside her country home, birds whistling in the trees, chickens clucking in the yard, that love turned into sorrow. Sorrow turned into hate, and hate brought with it a raging desire. At that moment, with a fire billowing inside her, she realized she had a side she’d never known before. She would no longer be a victim.