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Summary
She stood up, vision blurry with tears. She turned to unlock the door, catching a sight of her face in the mirror. A large ugly welt sat on her left cheek, burning red-hot despite it having happened half an hour ago. She looked pitiful, mascara and make up running down her cheeks. It was a new sensation; she had taken her fair share of hits and punches in her youth. You’re bound to catch a stray fist when playing rugby, whether it’s intentional or not. But he’d never hit her. For the last year of their relationship, he had been the perfect boyfriend.
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