A Story A Day. Story 18 of 365: Beatings.

She was curled up in a ball. Feeling the sticks beat her frail body. Feeling her skin burst open, the blood flowing from the wounds. Feeling her bones break. Unable to protect herself, hiding her head between her arms, her face between her knees. She wasn't strong enough to scream. And, anyway, no one would come help her. She was different, and, now that all her family had died, she was left alone, unprotected and hopeless. A particularly strong blow shattered her arm, she cried out in pain. 

A soft stroke took her from her memories to the real world. "James", she remembered, "my lovely husband". It all had been long ago. The beatings, the insults, the humilition. Yet, it was clear as if had just been now. She ran away and met James, a tall dark man who never talked much, but always had the right words. James saved her and caressed her back to sanity. She owed him more than he ever knew. He almost made her forget the beatings.