Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Dylan pushed open the storage room door. The light was still on. Clara was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed.

A sharp pang hit his chest. "Clara?"

She opened her eyes slowly, rubbing her temples. "Hey, you're done with work?"

Dylan reached out his hand, motioning for her to come over.

She walked over and hooked her fingers through his.

He led her out. "Didn't I tell you? If someone mouths off at you, don't just take it. Give it right back."

"She didn't say anything," Clara mumbled.

They stepped into the master bedroom, all understated luxury. Clara grabbed one

of Dylan's pajama shirts and disappeared into the bathroom.

The shower started up almost immediately.

Dylan lingered outside the door. "Are you upset? Did something get to you?"

Inside, Clara stared at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized her own reflection.

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out that photo again.

Every time she looked at it, her head throbbed so badly she wanted to scream.

She shoved the photo away, rushed through her shower, then crawled under the covers without another word.

the bed, took her wrist gently, and kissed the back of her hand. "I've already taken care of

have a phone," she reminded him

been so paranoid he'd

lashes fluttered. "I'll have someone

tomorrow."

eyes, her voice soft.

watched her for

he came back, she was already fast

couldn't sleep-never could, not

sleep well either. She twisted

strange and achingly

gentle voice echoed in her

can hold a squat

"Really?"

keep

broke out across her forehead as she drifted

sat nearby, a small table on the bed, catching

returned. "Coach isn't here today. I'll take you out. What do

go to the amusement

course. Never been?

and blurry-like memories from

ran, clutching the stuffed animal she'd won,

confiscated her prize, and her big brother got scolded too.

is coach so strict

his expression complicated, still