Her long hair was draped to the curves at the small of her back where her warm and very shapely hips and backside were exposed. Even though she was of...college age her room still had remnants of when she was just a little girl. A few stuffed animals still sat on various shelves along with many novels from a plethora of authors from Charlotte Bronte to E.M. Forster to Dostoevsky. A poster of a one hit wonder boy band from her high school days was still glued to her wall. She yawned and tossed the. No violence in evidence though, which was a hopeful sign in my book. She might get herself another hangover, but I didn’t think she’d harm herself, and certainly not others. ‘Trapped? Yeah, like I’m trapping myself almost, with these thoughts of her that won’t stop. Maybe I’m trapping myself in my own head? Or maybe it’s her, using me to trap myself. Like that fucking collar, only all in my head. Does that sound crazy?’ Her voice, which had almost returned to her conversational norm, once again. More

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