Utensil of Justice

This is my flash fiction for the #Storycraft challenge. The challenge was to write a piece of flash fiction from the POV of an inanimate object.

The red and blue strobing lights are relaxing. It helps me to not think about what might have happened.

It was a day like any other day. He asked her how her day was. She responded, “Same as usual.” He went back to eating his chicken and black beans but there was a glint in his eyes. It reflected in my surface. That is what first alerted me. I think she saw it too.

He laid me down on his plate and reached into his pocket. I couldn’t see what he held, concealed in his hand as he asked her if she had anything she’d like to tell him. She looked nervous. I was too.

She shook her head quickly and set her fork down on the table biting at her lower lip. I knew that look. She was shutting down. The yelling was coming. She usually nodded and stared back blankly as he ranted. It kept the hitting to a minimum.

Tonight, though he wouldn’t be placated by anything less than blood and pain. Whatever she’d done, he wanted her to suffer for it.

He held open his hand and though I still couldn’t see what was in it. She could. Her eyes grew wide. She stood up and stumbled back, away from the table, away from him. She turned, without a word and ran for the door.

He grabbed me off his plate and was on her just as she reached for the doorknob. He swung, she ducked. I sunk deep, biting into the wood. He pulled me free and lunged again but she hit us both with something. He cursed as I was thrown to the floor several feet away.

Somehow she was on her knees and he was on the floor behind her. She crawled toward me but he was gaining on her. He pushed her to the ground and flipped her so she was facing him.

He started choking her. That’s when I felt her fingers brush across my handle. She struggled and finally pulled me into her tiny hand. It was cold and shaky. I hoped, for her sake it was strong enough to use me as he’d intended to.

I’m just a fork but tonight I was an instrument of justice, righting a wrong that has gone on far too long. If I could tell my story, that is what I would tell the young officer that is questioning her now.