She lay sobbing on the bed, her body heaving. They had argued again. It seemed now all they did was argue.
He was sleeping with Angela and hadn't even the decency to deny it. She knew he was off her, but it was his fault that she'd started on the drugs that now held her captive, it was his fault for sending her out onto the streets where men demanded loathsome things that destroyed her inside, but it was her fault for letting him.
They had screamed at each other until there were no more words and he stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind him, leaving her to cry alone.
In the flat below an old man stirred in his bed. Perhaps now he'd be able to get some sleep, he thought.
