Broken
 
She’s here again this morning. Turns up at the door tear streaked and half sober.
‘Let me in Ma, please. C’mon. I want to come home.’
Franny, grey faced, cracks the door enough to talk.
‘Yer faither’s in the hoose. Wheesht! He’ll kill the baistert! You anaw!’
‘He’s broke intae ma hoose Ma. He’s robbed ma iPod, ma purse, panned ma windaes in. I’m done wae it Ma. Let me come home.’
She’s hingin’ in the doorway like a broken doll.
She wis a wee doll anaw. Afore that big shite got the haud of ‘er. Franny’s china doll.