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That Sick Desire

When her cell phone rang, she groaned. She couldn’t believe he was calling her again.

It was the third time tonight.

She rolled to the other side of the bed and jammed her fingers in her ears, but she could still feel the vibrations of her phone buzzing beneath her pillow. When the vibrations stopped, she refused to uncover her ears. She could feel the reverberations of the buzzing seeping into her subconscious.

Some sick thing inside her wished for him to call back, to try one more time, to leave a vehement voicemail expressing his love for her. She took that sick desire and ripped it out of her mind, placing it gently under the covers with her, slowly stroking in hopes that it would fall asleep. She tried desperately to cuddle with it, but its jagged edges cut her chest and forearms when she got too close.

She woke up to the sight of dried blood on her sheets and her covers were askew. Pillows were scattered across the room. She realize that the sick desire must have crept back inside her while she dreamt. Her phone had two more missed calls than it had before she fell asleep and she smiled as she removed her soiled sheets. As she collected her covers, she threw her phone into the mass of fabric and balled it up.

Walking into the laundry room, she tossed the sheets into the washing machine with a vengeance, closed the door, pressed start and watched the water cascade down the window. Leaving the laundry room, she closed the door softly with the lock clicking satisfyingly behind her.



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