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Always Be Strong to Fight for Yourself.
#WritcoStoryPrompt29
I ran all the way home from the ground. The older boys had beaten me up good but I still had the strength to run as far as I could from them.
I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting beaten up, which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me...
By the time I reached our small, weathered house, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the yard.
My heart pounded not just from the run, but from the fear of what awaited me inside. I hesitated at the door, wiping away the dirt and tears from my face, hoping to make myself presentable. But there was no hiding the bruise forming under my eye or the torn shirt hanging off my shoulder.
"Mom, I'm home," I called out weakly, stepping inside. The smell of stew wafted through the air, mingling with the familiar scent of worn wood and laundry soap. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Mom turned from the stove,...
I ran all the way home from the ground. The older boys had beaten me up good but I still had the strength to run as far as I could from them.
I knew my mother would be the next one to thrash me for getting beaten up, which was ironical, if you know what I mean. But I had no choice. I couldn't tell her the real reason the boys picked on me...
By the time I reached our small, weathered house, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the yard.
My heart pounded not just from the run, but from the fear of what awaited me inside. I hesitated at the door, wiping away the dirt and tears from my face, hoping to make myself presentable. But there was no hiding the bruise forming under my eye or the torn shirt hanging off my shoulder.
"Mom, I'm home," I called out weakly, stepping inside. The smell of stew wafted through the air, mingling with the familiar scent of worn wood and laundry soap. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Mom turned from the stove,...
