Jimbob

Preparation by Jimbob It had been a long day, but at least it was the weekend. She got home from work after far too much time in rush hour traffic, and was greeted by the flashing light on her answer phone, winking with secrets to impart. There was only one message. “Hi, it’s me. I’ll be coming round tomorrow, some time before eight. Make sure you’re ready.” The voice was familiar, and as usual, it made her heart beat faster and her mouth dry. She knew that “before eight” could mean any time. Her mind looked back to a memory; once she had been told to be ready for a visit first thing in the morning - he had let himself in at 1:30 am, and finding her asleep in bed and completely unprepared he had dragged the covers from her and beaten her, covering her body from neck to wrist to ankle in welts and bruises. None of them stayed permanently, but she had had to call in sick for a couple of days until they began to fade. ...