Clipped Wings

“You were busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

I let go of her and she adjusted her corset, pushing her fake tits together. She held no appeal for me anymore. She hadn’t for quite some time, but Sie

The past year had not been kind to her. Her over-dyed hair looked like straw, particularly against the mismatched extensions. There were lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Her lips were injected with so much collagen that it looked like she’d been punched in the face, which was possible, given her penchant for violent sex. She had other modifications, all of which increased her synthetic, Barbie-like appearance. The scar that ran from her chin to her ear had been worked on, but it was still visible under all the makeup. She seemed thi

She tugged on my arm. “Come back in. We need to catch up.”

A year ago I might have given in with a little persuading, the potential for physical escape enough of an allure. Not anymore. “Can’t. I’m on my way out.”

“Don’t be like that, honey.” She threaded her hands through my hair, pulling me closer. I stood stoically, unmoving, as she rubbed herself on me, her desperation an effective antiaphrodisiac. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time. It would be a shame if you left before I had a chance to show you how much I’ve missed you.” She palmed me through my pants. My dick knew better than to react.

“I’m not interested, Sie

She dropped her hand and crossed her arms under her chest. The result was ridiculously comical. “Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Who the hell knows?” I took a step back, intent on leaving before she flew off the handle, as Sie

Her lip twisted into a sneer. “Still haven’t lost that superiority complex, have you? Get off your pedestal and take a look at yourself, honey. You’re no better than the rest of us.”

“It’s always such a pleasure to see you,” I said with derision and turned away.

“No one’s ever going to get you like I do, Hayden. But you know that, don’t you? It’s why you come back every time.”

I spun around, closing the distance in two angry strides. I leaned over her, stopping when I was only an inch from her face. The stench of cigarettes and vodka hit me, but neither eclipsed her overpowering perfume or the hint of men’s cologne clinging to her skin. I felt like a volcano ready to explode. Her eyes were alight with excitement; she’d pissed me off on purpose, thinking she’d get what she wanted. It was a strategy that used to work.

“Stop kidding yourself, you manipulative bitch. The only thing you know about me is the dimensions of my dick. All we’ve ever done is fuck. That’s it. Any feelings you think I might have for you don’t exist. They never did.”

Sie

I didn’t answer, avoiding the truth in that statement. The pattern of behavior was undeniable. Just as Sie

“Have a nice night.” I turned and headed for my car.

“See you soon, Hayden,” she called after me, laughing.

“Let’s hope not,” I mumbled, sliding into the driver’s seat.

6

TENLEY

Wednesday didn’t start out well. Nightmares kept me awake half the night and I slept through my alarm. By the time I woke up, I was already late for my meeting with Professor Calder. The lots close to my advisor’s building were full, so I ended up parking on the opposite side of campus. I took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, aware I was making a terrible second impression. Our first meeting at the start of the semester hadn’t gone smoothly, and I’d hoped to be better prepared the second time around.

I knocked on his half-open door.

He glanced at me from over his glasses, disapproval unmistakable as he beckoned me inside. “Miss Page¸ how kind of you to show up. Are you so eager to be demitted from the master’s program already?”

“I’m sorry, Professor, my alarm—”

“Excuses are offensive. Shut the door and take a seat.”

“I didn’t mean—”

He raised a hand. “Stop talking.”

I sat in the chair opposite his desk. He stared at me until I looked away. I tried not to fidget. Or cry. Initially, Professor Calder had been pleasant enough over email, praising my ideas and the foundations of my research. He’d seemed genuinely intrigued by my focus on modification as an emergent cultural norm. But in person he’d been standoffish and blunt to the point of cruelty. I had no idea what I’d done to warrant the extreme change.

“I’ve been through your introductory research. It’s abysmal. You’ll need to go through the suggested revisions by next Wednesday. If it isn’t much improved, we will need to discuss whether or not you have the ability to meet the rigorous demands of this program.”

I looked up at the sound of his chair rolling across the floor. He rounded his desk, papers in hand. They were covered in red marks. “Do you have anything to say, Miss Page?”

“Thank you for seeing me even though I was late. It won’t happen again.” I couldn’t get anything else out for fear I would break down.

He sighed dramatically. “Next week is busy for me. I hadn’t pla

I shook my head.

“Pardon me?”

“Nine o’clock will be fine. Thank you, Professor.”

He handed me the papers. “Now go. I believe you have to teach in fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t advise you to be late for that, too.”

I collected my things and left his office, still holding back tears. I couldn’t afford to allow my emotions to get the better of me; I had a first-year seminar to deal with.

By the end of the day, I wanted to crawl into bed and wipe the hours from my memory. As luck would have it, that didn’t happen. An accident on the way home rerouted me off the freeway onto an unfamiliar exit. My GPS lost its signal, and I wound up in a part of the city I’d never been in before. The buildings were run down; graffiti adorned the crumbling brick and boarded-up windows of abandoned storefronts. The sun began to sink below the tree line, and the neighborhood didn’t look nearly as welcoming as where I lived now. I’d grown up in small-town Mi

The flash of blue-and-red lights in my rearview mirror proved my error had not gone unseen. The tears I had been fighting all day won the battle, forging a path down my cheeks. I swiped at them with the sleeve of my shirt.

Traffic was heavy on the four-lane street, so I turned down a cul-de-sac as directed by the signals of the officer behind me. I’d never been pulled over before; I’d never even gotten a parking ticket. My fingers tapped restlessly on the wheel while I watched the officer saunter up to the driver’s side window. I rolled it down. The quiet inside the car was broken by the sound of horns honking and a man yelling somewhere in the distance. The temperature had dropped, and the chill in the air made me shiver. The officer was younger, probably in his early thirties.