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.

back of her hand. "I've already taken care of it. Next time

phone,"

Before she went missing, he'd been so paranoid he'd even

"I'll have

tomorrow."

She closed her eyes, her voice soft. "I just want to

her for a

to shower. When 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

to play a game? If you can hold a squat for an hour, I'll take you out for candied

"Really?"

keep time for

out across her forehead as

on the bed, catching

isn't here today. I'll take

we go to the

course. Never been? I'll show

past, fast and blurry-like memories from

animal she'd won, sprinting

they got home, the coach confiscated her prize, and her big brother got scolded too. She was punished with hours more of

frustrated. "Why is coach so strict

his expression complicated, still