May 2nd, 2020
“I still can’t believe you drilled him in the ass,” Aiden said with a chuckle, loosing his shaft as it went sailing for the target. It hit just wide right of the bullseye, making him frown as then looked to Mariah, who was still grinning.
“Right in his cheek,” she said with a nod, “Left side.”
“Should have plugged him right in the cornhole,” Aiden said, reaching for another arrow.
“Ew,” Mariah said, “Don’t be gross. I would have had to throw the arrow away.”
Aiden shrugged as he nocked his next arrow, “He snapped it anyway right? Why not cause him just a little more pain?”
She laughed lightly, feeling pensive but still not wanting him to see it, “I wanted to keep shooting until he couldn’t walk, but I couldn’t do it.”
“I’d ask why but I think I get it,” Aiden said as he lined up his shot, “That’s just not who you are.”
Mariah didn’t reply as she watched his next shot hit the bullseye, thinking that it was fitting in that moment. He was right of course. She hated Clinton, she would probably always hate him, he’d done nothing but abuse her for their entire, thankfully short marriage. There had been days when she could feel her ribs threatening to crack under the impact with which she hit the wall, and other days when she almost begged for death, but didn’t. She hadn’t wanted to give the bastard the satisfaction.
“Of course she’s not,” spoke a voice behind them, an all-too familiar voice that froze the blood in her veins as Mariah spun around, thinking to reach for an arrow even as Clinton stepped forward and swung something hard and metallic at Aiden. The wrench, one that looked as though it came from her father’s garage, struck Aiden high on the temple, knocking him to the side and out cold as he fell hard to the ground.
“Now you bitch,” Clinton snarled, the form her young son held in the crook of his other arm, “We’re going to have some fun.”
(to be continued)