She looked at the picture in her hand.
Both of them smiling, hand in hand.
He looking down at her with so many promises in his eyes.
She looking up at him with trust shining in hers.
As she tore the picture to bits she could instead see the scars on her back from the lashing of his belt.
Trust lay on the floor torn like the picture.
‘I’m Writing Bravely for the Write Tribe Festival of Words – March 2019’