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Afterall, women's clothes are made with far nicer fabrics than men's clothes.On the morning, after the first night with Ethan, I wore the bluepinstriped shirt that he had dropped on the floor before getting intobed. The shirt was so bulky and rough! I hated it. The only reason Ikept it on was to inhale his body odor that emanated from his shirt.The picture of me in his pinstriped shirt, with my shapely buttproviding the much-needed definition to the otherwise boring straightshirt was too much for Ethan to handle. He had to peel the shirt off me,jump into bed, and make love to me! To this day, he still makes love tome with the same passion he had that morning.Getting back to our pussyfooter, his nervousness had ebbed an inch andbegan spending more time looking at dresses. He was intrigued by aFloral Lace Sheath Dress that was faded pink with intricate flowers innavy blue embroidered on them. The dress was so full of life in contrastto the dull shirt he was wearing.Ding! Went the store. The world will eat her alive, brutalizeher, destroy her. In here she is safe. Safe and locked away from the world- and from any chance of salvation.I tried ignoring her, letting her starve. I locked the door and ignoredher and tried to forget she was down there, to convince myself I hadimagined the whole thing. It didn't work. She's resilient, and can survivewith very little. And I couldn't forget, not completely. She was at theback of my thoughts constantly, at work, in my sleep. A dull pounding, myvery own telltale heart beating out the same three words over and over:let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Eating dinner with my parents, andthey ask, how have you been? Let me out. Brewing a pot of coffee in themorning before work, Let me out. It's still there, that unending refrain.Sometimes it's louder. Sometimes it's barely audible unless I listen veryhard, in a quiet room, but it never stops. Let me out, let me out, let meout.I finger the handle of my knife as I slice the crusts off.
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Then without a word backed out of the door, shutting it and locking it from the outside. He then went into the living room and sat on the recliner, letting the weariness overtake him. Cass couldn’t believe that Colin had just left her locked in this room. Granted, it wasn’t a prison cell. There was a large bed, a dresser, and a space heater. She went over to the dresser and started looking through the drawers and found blankets and towels. The room was small and windowless, and the bed took up most of the space. She couldn’t help but notice that the bed looked extremely comfortable, and in her exhaustion, fell onto the soft quilt and into a deep sleep. ***** Jack Connelly awoke in the morning and his first thought was wondering what time his daughter had come home. He got up and turned off the television he had fallen asleep in front of the night before and went down the hall to see if Cass was up yet. He saw that her door was open, and the bed had not appeared to be slept in. She.

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