That's why it made me sick. He turned to her. I knew his gaze was full of fire, his stance threatening. He wouldn't hurt her, I hoped, as he had never hurt her before. He stalked toward her. I waited for things that never came--his bellow for her to shut up? For him to then around and come back to me. Instead, he lifted his foot. My eyes glazed over in pain as he brought it down, it hovering over the tub, and swung it forward. It splashed trough the water and connected with my beautiful Jaelynn's face. Her head hit the back of the rub with a loud thud, and her small body slid lower and lower into the tub, her head falling beneath the bath water. I listened closely for her sobs, straining my ears to hear them again, waiting for her to sit up. They never came, and she never did. He kicked her again and again.
I heard sharp cracks coming from her ad my blood began to boil. I pulled my way up, away from the wall, his kicks echoing in my ears. He touched my little girl, I thought. I staggered my way to the sink and closed my hand around the heaviest thing I could find, my hair straightener. Its heavy stone feel was a welcome familiarity. He put his dirty little feet on my lovely little girl. I moved behind my husband, a monster. In my peripheral, in the mirror, I could see Taevon looking down and Jaelynn's still form, a small sick smile curling the corners of his mouth. He hurt my baby. I raised my arms high above my head and brought them down, the straightener hitting him squarely on the top of his head. It broke in half and fell from my hand. He dropped slowly, his head banging on the unforgiving tile as his descent ended. I threw everything I could get my hands on at his head--a brush, lotion bottles, the iron I had used on his shirt that morning. I wasn't satisfied until everything had hit him and the sink was cleared. When I was done, he lay still, blood slowly pooling beneath his head.
I know. Then, and only then, did I climb into the tub with my little girl. Ignoring the water and suds saturating my clothing , I grabbed and cradled her in my arms, her body limp. Her head lolled over my arm. She was destroyed. Her once beautiful face was smashed in place and blood slowly trickled from the many cuts on her body. The water was tinted red and it swirled around us. I hugged my daughter to my breast and crowd. My baby, the love of my life, the only one I cared about, was gone. Nary a movement came from her. Her chest didn't rise, her nostrils didn't flare from incoming air. Nothing moved. Tears rolled down my cheeks and broken sobs escaped my lips. I cried for my child lost. I cried for the hurt she had endured. And when I had no tears left to cry for my little girl? I slid down in the water, detachedly watching it cover my head. I screamed for her, the air bubbles bursting on the surface above my head, then took as many deep breaths as I could, slowly filling my lungs. I coughed once, twice, three times, shuddered as I took in a final breath, and, finally, I drifted away to stay with my baby girl, Jaelynn.
And maybe go a bit more into detail about how the main character is feeling. For example, explain her difficulty getting up? As I'm sure there is some since she was just abused.
I also think you should explain how the character feels after she (I assume) killed the father. Or maybe just slow it down a bit more. I know it's a short story, but it feels a bit rushed. Sorry if I'm sounding criticalI did enjoy the story.
So far the story is powerful and good in description I think. I do not look for grammar, but the story itself. Besides the sadness it causes in the reader, the story is good.
(jw if people could maybe check out me myself and my seven siblings and give me your feedback ... ) I really liked this story how I could see it in my head! Please tell me when you have updated!