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Chinese Finger Trap


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Rachel sat on the corner of the bed in the dimly lit room and watched him fall asleep. Intangible chains kept her from getting up, and even in his sleep Rachel could feel his rough voice grind against her ear like gravel to fallen knees. The harder she pulled away the more desperately he grasped her hands. It burned inside her chest and left her wilted; she loved him.
Rachel held her breath and lifted herself silently from the bed, careful of the springs. The orange city light outside glowed sick on the tiles of her fading home. Another light buzzed in her ears in the kitchenette and made her knees weak. She lingered in front of her purse on the counter and tried to lift her wilted hands. They ignored her whispered plea and remained limp and shaking around her car keys.
“Still up?” The man spoke from the bedroom doorway. Rachel didn’t say anything. Instead she knelt to the floor and pressed her forehead against the cupboard. The man knelt beside her and put his hand on the curve of her back.
“What’s wrong?” He said.
“I’m not leaving.” She said.
“Thought so.” He replied quickly removing his hand from her back. Rachel wasn’t pulling anymore and his desire let her go. Yet, she remained wilted.



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