Short Story
Short Story Sundays
Careful to step over the pool of seemingly black blood on the carpet, she snatched the money from the counter in one hand and threw her backpack over her shoulder with the other. Turning the brass knob and heading out into the night, the crisp autumn air slapped her broken face once more and whipped her auburn hair as she gently closed the door behind her. Taking a shaky breath she pulled her hoodie over her head and with but one regret, she left. "Never again," she whispered into the night as the darkness embraced her and she disappeared.