Love and Handcuffs
I told Dragon to let me go, it wasn’t worth it. Then I told Dragon if he didn’t let me go that I was going to take my umbrella and shove the tip into his eardrum.
He laughed at me and turned the radio up. It was okay I suppose, I actually would have enjoyed the band playing if I wasn’t being held hostage.
It may sound weird, to be so nonchalant about it, but I am really not. Lets just call this shock. My boyfriend, well definitely ex now, is sitting up there singing to some classic rock tune, drumming his fingers.
I am handcuffed, my hands secured right below my shoulderblades.
I bite my lip and think about all the times I went down on this fuck without anything in return. I pull on the cuffs, the metal digging into my wrists. My foot kicks the back of the seat and Dragon looks compassionately into the rearview mirror.
Great a sociopath.
I always denied having bad taste in men to my friends but now I think they may have been on to something.