The cottage sat quiet, but Sheri knew he was there. Father. The word alone brought fear to her heart.
Not much longer though. According to the witch, the poultice would either stop him from treating her like a wife or would kill him. Frankly, she was fine with the latter. He stopped being a father once her mother died and was forced into filling her shoes. From cooking to bedding, and a few punches, Sheri had endured it all for years.
He was evil to the core.
But just a little poultice in his coffee, and she would be free…
This is part four of small unplanned series.
(Parts one, two and four are only 100 words snippets for Friday Fictioneers. Part three is a bit longer [about 600 words] and was for Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction.)