Darkness doesn't have fingers that twist into my flesh.
~ S.m. Parker
His chair glides a few inches closer and he's in my face, all shoulders and cologne.
A small metal marble pinballs within my chest, banging and clanging against all the routes inside me.
Lying on my bed, my brain cyclones with thoughts of men and boys and boys and men. All making the wrong choices.
It's not the game, Zee. It's the fame. Everyone wants to be affiliated with a winner.
