Family, Fiction, Health and wellbeing, Melbourne, Relationship and marriage, Writing

Bree and Henry

Bree stared out the window. On the road below, she watched as cars sped past, and pedestrians bustled their way about.

A taxi pulled into the kerb. The door opened, and Henry stepped out. Bree felt nothing. She watched as he crossed the road, then moved out of her sight. He would be walking through the front doors, making his way to her room. The blackness within nibbled; it threatened to swallow chunks of her soul.

Bree locked the darkness in its compartment. She stumbled back to the narrow bed, using the chair for support. She painstakingly swung her legs under the white sheet and cotton blanket. Lowering her head onto the pillow, she realised she’d been holding her breath.

She summoned all her bravery as the door opened.

‘Bree, my love,’ Henry said. ‘How are you feeling today?’ His smile was insipid. His manner, patronising.

They both knew he was the reason she was in here.


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