“Screw you!” I scream through bloody cracked lips. He turns his head and looks at me curled up on the cold granite floor. He smiles. Ash from his cigarette drops onto his cheap suit. He carefully brushes it off not once taking his eyes off me. On the floor by his feet is an empty wine bottle lying on its side. Slowly, he bends down and spins the bottle again. We all watch its slow revolution, desperately praying it won’t point in our direction. God is not with me today, my silent prayer goes unanswered. It was my turn again.
My Drabble Project – Day 22, Story 62