She hated them. All of them!
They hid behind their masks, worn as a disguise.
She knew what they had in mind. They couldn’t fool her.
With each spasm, an electrical jolt ran through her body.
How much more could she endure?
Aching, throbbing, electrifying pains on every inch of her skin.
She screamed. Her screams meant nothing. They only helped encourage their wretched abuse.
The glint from their eyes, above their masks, along with encouraging words meant nothing to her during these agonizing bloody moments.
When she thought she could endure no more, “A son,” they said.
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
To read more stories click here