Behind The Closed Door

She was not a deaf mute. She could hear them behind the closed door. First there is the snide comment. Then a quick response followed by a sneer and a bad name. Bad words piled on top of bad names spoken in low, guttural voices. Then a pause, someone went too far again. Count to 3. One … Two … Three … The shouting match begins. She hoped the neighbors didn’t call the cops again. She could hear all the names they were throwing at each other. The guy on TV called it ‘MUD slinging.’ She wondered how long this match will go on for. Sometimes they were at it for hours. A single tear ran down her face and into her mouth. She could taste its SALTY bitterness. She tried to wipe the tear away but only managed to smear her LIP GLOSS. Something smashed against the closed door. They were really going at it this time. The sound of more stuff breaking reached her ears as the two behind the door pitched whatever they got their hands on at each other. She was crying in earnest now. More sounds came through the door. The hitting had started. Flashing lights outside. The neighbors had called the cops. She let them in and simply pointed at the closed door. No more name calling. No more bad words. No more smashing. No more hitting. The sound of a DEMOLISHED family was the only thing she could hear now.

WORD COUNT 247