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.

her wrist gently, and kissed the back of her hand. "I've already taken care of it. Next time something happens, call

have a phone," she reminded him

she went missing, he'd been so paranoid

lashes fluttered. "I'll have someone

tomorrow."

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

watched her for a moment, then

he came back, she was already

couldn't sleep-never could, not in the

twisted restlessly, caught in a

strange and

echoed

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

"Really?"

I'll keep time

her forehead as she drifted deeper

bed, catching up

here today. I'll take you

we go to

course. Never been?

memories from a life she couldn't quite

ran, clutching the stuffed animal she'd won, sprinting like she

her prize, and her big brother got scolded too.

coach so strict with

complicated, still