(This is going to be my story for Monday. It’s longer than 100-words, but it’s something I wrote over the weekend, as part of the actual audition process for this particular school (it’s for a writing program, not an acting one). It got turned into a play shortly afterwards. I thought y’all might like to see it.)
James and Beth have been married seven months, and everything is perfect. They are in love. They have money. They have great sex, often. They fight in exactly the ways they’re supposed to fight, over little, stupid things and sometimes over big ones, and the fights are loud and fast and emotionally violent until they’re over and Beth and James figure out that they’re only fighting because they love each other so much. It’s pretty good.
This does not sit well with Evette Richards, who went through eight years of shock therapy and pills and Doctor Fucking Ripstein, who tried to tell her all about the trauma that made her what she is, told her in this voice, the voice you’d use to tell a dog why it’s being beaten.
The dog doesn’t care why. It just knows it’s getting hit.