Blood orange juice
The man holds the hammer tightly and flexes his muscles. He is strong and menacing, powerful and angry. A sharp hair cut, deep brown eyes, eyes that hide violent urges. He stands in the nursery, staring in the mirror, he senses the mirror is mocking him and his anger escalates. In the reflection, he sees bears balloons, a cot, soft woollen blankets. It is quiet, peaceful, a haven. Soon it will become a place of chaos, bedlam, a murder scene. He can never go back.
No one can help him now.
That flat packed furniture is going to get it.
About the Author
Angela Haffenden is a mother of four children. She is also responsible for a husband, a dog and an ageing father. She writes mainly to stay sane. She lives by the sea and writes in a cabin in the garden.
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