She should have taken cover the moment his face started contorting with distaste.
“What is this shit,” he snarled, “are you trying to poison me?
What kind of a woman doesn’t even know to cook? Is there anything you can do properly? Bloody waste of ingredients! Marrying you was the biggest mistake of my life.”
She had heard this very rant several times, and each time it hurt just as much.
Then, like a precision missile, the flung plate crashed into her head, leaving a slime of blood and salsa flowing down her face.
Yet she did not cry out to his receding form.
When your life was worth less than avocados and onions, what was the point?
In response to Bikurgurl’s 100 Words Wednesday – Week 22 challenge photo prompt