PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

I wouldn’t break while there was still blood in my cheeks and he, outside the cage, with the pallor of dried lentils but…
“Now you get to appreciate the overcrowded conditions in one of your stinking cages,” he menaced.
‘Overcrowded?’ What could he mean?
Suddenly, he produced my wife and three sobbing children from outside the room, violently prodding them toward the cage.
“Not my children,” I pleaded; “they’re innocent of whatever you hold me responsible for.”
“The hens are innocent; you kill them after six weeks.” His cackle seared like lightning.
“Muse on that. You have six weeks.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.