She awoke at about five in the morning to the incoherent shouts of her husband and a firm fist in the face. “Jimmy?” she asked, panicked, stinging still from the blow he landed.
“But… Who… And…” Jimmy was shouting nonsense and flailing his arms about, his face contorted in anger. “It was just… Wha…?”
“Jimmy? Are you okay?” She asked again, shaking him hopes of rousing him from his deeply troubled sleep.
And as though it never happened, his confusing tirade turned to gentle snoring. Unfortunately for Shannon, though, she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her face was hot where the bottom of his fist made contact with her eye and the adrenaline rush of having been aroused from her slumber in that way made it impossible to continue resting. Leaving Jimmy to rest, she got out of bed and wrapped her terry robe around her slender frame and left the bedroom.
This story appears as part of the collection "The Cruel Kids: Four Short Stories". You can get it for the Kindle or the Nook.