Nanowrimo 2020 - Day 1 Word Count and Favorite Bit

It's that time of year where I put everything on hold and power through writing an entire novel in one month. That's right: National Novel Writing Month is here and it's time to share some good shit with y'all. Today's word count is 1719. And my favorite bit is as follows:

For the first time since Hannah was seven and Grandmother first moved in with them, Hannah’s mother found her voice. “You can't be serious!”

And with that, the kitchen exploded. Hannah’s father defended Grandmother as he always did: attempting to explain that matchmaking was common in their culture, and demanding that Hannah’s mother understand that Grandmother was acting out of love. Hannah’s mother screamed that it didn’t matter because this was done without Hannah’s consent, which brought up issues of legality.

“This is all nonsense,” Grandmother said, giving off the air of a monarch amused by the shenanigans of a court jester. “My marriage was arranged, and we were perfectly happy.”

“Grandfather was an abusive drunkard and a raging misogynist, so yeah, I guess I can see how that would be a good match for you.”

Hannah blinked as the room went silent. Oh. She’d said that out loud, hadn’t she? The shock must have really messed with her head.

The sharp, cracking sound hit her before the pain did. Hannah’s cheek throbbed, the pain enough to bring tears to the corner of her eyes. She stared at Grandmother, who glared at her with palpable, acrid rage.

“Hannah!” her mother gasped, turning Hannah’s face toward her to examine the damage. She only really gave the cheek a passing glance before she turned back to Hannah’s father and Grandmother, rage evident in her face. “How dare you!”

“What Hannah said was unacceptable,” Hannah’s father said. Hannah felt like she should have felt surprised at the fact her father just defended the woman who’d hit her, but she didn’t. A part of her was sad, but mostly she just felt resigned and disappointed.

Hannah stood, her chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. “I’m going to my room.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you apologize to your grandmother,” her father said firmly.

Hannah turned and looked him directly in the eye, something she hadn’t done in God knows how long. He seemed to waver at this, which almost made Hannah feel better. She’d already been slapped tonight, how much worse could it get?

“No.”

She walked away, wishing she had something snappier and more dramatic to say. But all she had was a heavy feeling of exhaustion.

So much for going back to work.