6/8

When Sara arrived back home, her mother wasn't there. She had left supper on the table along with a note. "Gone to help our new neighbours," it read. "I'm proud of you, my chosen one." Sara crumpled the note and ate quickly. She just wanted to go to bed quickly and forget about her horrible day. After eating, she retreats to her room. Inside, she finds the boxes of her belongings are not there. Strange... she could have sworn she'd piled them into her room, before this whole ordeal had started. Her mother returned as Sara started to look in the other rooms for her pyjamas. Sara asked for her help finding her things, but her mother insisted that she'd had a long and hard day. The boxes would still be there the next morning; they could find them then. Sara was too tired to complained as her mother corralled her back to her room.
In her room, Sara started stripping down. Her clothes were dirty with sweat and cum. Worse even, they would always remind her of these trials she wanted to forget. She lay on top of her bed. The room felt too stuffy for covers. She tried to fall asleep quickly, but her mind kept returning to the events of the day and her terrible treatment. She found her hands kept finding their way back to her swollen belly. She didn't know what to make of it, or even if it was normal.
Sara cried herself to sleep. She never noticed the smouldering embers of a fading bonfire in the backyard.