House Rules
They start. Right there, in the middle of the gym, on the mat.
The girls look at you the entire time.
Not through you. Not past you. At you. Direct, sustained, conscious eye contact. Gabbie with that warm open expression she always has, Riley with those apologetic eyes you recognize from yesterday. Both of them holding your gaze while everything else happens around them.
You are still the punching bag, but now the punches are every thrust of the man inside two women you care about, comprehensively taken care of in a way you cannot participate in, cannot intervene in, cannot do anything about.
The cage is very present. Even in the dream, the cage is very present.
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