Marnie’s Guts

It wasn’t the first time he’d given her a black eye, broken her ribs, or left a purple-hot bruise where no one could see.

But by God, it was the last.

“That’s it.” Marnie whispered, holding a dish towel to her bloodied chin. “I’m done.”

You ain’t goin’ no-damn-where,” he sneered. “You ain’t got the guts…”

He kept drinking and Marnie kept quiet.

Waiting.

Waiting.

When the time was right, she found her guts.

The following day, Marnie loaded up the Pontiac and headed home, to Chicago.

Her uncle would know what to do with the body parts in the trunk.

 

SusanWritesPrecise/TheAbjectMuse
becuo.com

**

The Daily Post: Calm

5 Comments Add yours

  1. Oh my. Reminds me of the Chicago soundtrack Catherine Zeta Jones sang on, ‘he had it coming, he only had himself to blame. If you’d have been there if you’d have seen it, I betcha would have done the same.’ Ah. I love that song.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for stopping by. Glad you enjoyed! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Another example of karmic justice served! Great story! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, MM! I’m all about karmic justice.

      Liked by 1 person

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