PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr
When did it happen?
Was it recently or had it started a long time beforehand: slowly corrupting and defiling, gnawing away until ruination was complete?
Was it his fault?
Was it mine?
What, specifically, had I done?
Or what had I failed to do?
Something I had taken for granted?
Too much alcohol?
Not enough fruit?
Why not the skanky tart in the house next door?
The drug-taking, boozy slag. She abandons her kids (fathered by three different men), to bring themselves up while she parties. Why should she be able to conceive and not me?
Word Count: 98
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.