Five Sentence Fiction - Thief

Another word prompt from Five Sentence Fiction that I couldn't miss. And I tried to take a less conventional route with it, delivering a different kind of theft, which resulted in me providing a different picture too, as the other didn't seem as appropriate.

By Vincent Van Gogh

Emptiness consumed Abigail as she sat on the side of the bed, staring at the wall, not daring to look down at her thoroughly washed body and feel the disgust again.

She tried hard to argue the voices in her head that told her this wasn’t her doing, that she hadn’t deserved it, and had done nothing wrong, but they weren’t easily quelled; she had invited him in after all, and wanted to sleep with him – it’s what she’d angling for every time she’d seen him out at the club.

But something had gone wrong half way through; something he had muttered in her ear in the midst of it making it clear it meant nothing to him, turning it cold and meaningless as though she was just providing a service.

And although in that moment she had pushed it away and carried on, the following morning when he had woken and leapt out of bed, dressing and vanishing inside of a minute, claiming he was late to meet some friends, Abigail had known she’d allowed herself to be used and violated.

Two baths later and she fought those feelings, beginning to rock gently back and forth to comfort herself, and tell herself that no-one had managed to steal a part of her soul, she was better than that.