by Veronica Harder
Her room is dark, and she is not in it. It is awaiting her return. A shaky key finds its place in the lock and the door swings inward. Her hand searches along the wall for the light switch. The darkness moves and engulfs her, pulling her into the room, shutting the door behind her. Before she can scream, a hand closes over her mouth. She knows this hand. She has learned much, both from its strikes and from its caresses. She has felt its touch before. But never like this.
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