She paced the sidewalk, a slight incline back to her car. Another week of spilling her emotions, her guts, her repulsive vomit out. The space between her ears felt like a Chinese finger trap, the victim pulling tighter and tighter. The soft wood only tightening ever-worse, ever deadly. It was a mind fuck, really, to feel so safe yet feel so trapped. It was like a deep, bottomless rabbit hole with walls lined of soft rabbit fur. A furry Chinese finger trap rabbit hole.
“Fuck this,” she whispered to herself, “I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight.”