Little Fox

Flash Fiction, I suppose

Agustin, during that sticky hot summer night, your arms stuck around my bare waist, I whispered many men fuck like animals. I quickly followed with I don’t want to be fucked raw, where there’s violence in every thrust. You gave your promise and your promise was met with action. You held me with all you did with all the sanctity of a prayer and my god, Agustin, when I tell you that despite everything, the soft kisses, the gentleness of intertwined hands, despite everything, I refuse to be a mother, how would you feel? I tread to the wooden cage where she is chained. Hair unbrushed for days, teeth stained, bloodied wrists, she attempts to lunge at me. Then, she caresses her belly as if to apologize to the girl growing inside her. I offer her water, and despite her sharp gaze, she gulps it down.

Dawn came and the birds sang their songs and I sang mine. I hummed as I traced my hands on the cage.

Inside: chain undone. Fresh blood, drank by the soil.

Agustin, how would you feel?

Agustin,

Agustin,

How would you feel?

You emerged from the tent, wrapped your arms around me, tight enough to suffocate. You don’t have to ask me, What have you done, what have you done?

Little fox, time for a hunt, you whisper in my ear. Who will kill her first?