His feet bang closer, stomping loud on purpose.
The little table next to her bed is white with round pink handles. In the top drawer, she keeps undies and socks; in the next middle drawer, pyjamas and nighties; in the bottom drawer…
He stands over where she is squeezed between the wall and the dressing table, and leans on the wobbling dresser.
In the bottom drawer… why can’t she remember?
He swings back his foot, and she turns and hides her face, and his toes smash into her thigh.
‘There, b***h,’ he says, ‘we’re even now.’
He kicks her three more times, on the same part of her leg, and her head knocks on the wall.
Now I owe you, she thinks, but doesn’t say it. Her tears are hot on her face, but she makes sure they are quiet tears because she is not a stupid fish. I owe you forever,
