I wrote this story for Ermilia’s Piture It & Write prompt. Click the picture for the blog link and image cred.
I walked with a firm step towards the door, but stopped just short of it. Should I leave or should I not? Silently staring at the washed out paint on the door, back at the figure on the bed, then back at the door, I pondered this question. I’d give it a little more thought. I stood against the wall, facing away from him. Lifting my hands up, I started bending backwards and slowly slid down to the floor until my right shoulder touched the floor and my left arm supported my body. Sighing, I felt a wave of what felt like relief course through my twisted body from tip to toe. I felt lighter.
I had learnt to contort my body into these shapes back in Physical Ed classes in boarding school. At first, I could only twist into these shapes if one of the other girls held me around the waist while I leant backwards. Gradually I had taught myself to do it without help and tried out all sorts of shapes all the time. The other girls called me Twister Candy, and asked me to put on shows for them. Their favourite twister was one in which I sat on the bed, passed my right arm behind my head and reached out for my left foot. It always had them go up in shrieks of awe and delight, smothered with pillows, lest the dormitory mistress should find us. I was happy to oblige; Twister Candy had a therapeutic effect on me too.
Now on my bedroom floor, in that position, I adjusted my head and stared at the man on my bed for what seemed to me to be an eternity. It had been long since I resorted to Twister Candy to make me feel better; years, to be exact. Twister Candy was like my body’s autopilot, only it engaged in moments of distress and mental anguish. I had asked him to keep away from me, to stop bothering me, but he hadn’t listened. And now here we both were.
Jim was my boss, and he had been a major pain in my back side from day one. My first day at the office he had a problem with my boots, the next day the calendar feature of bikini-clad top models on my desk. Then he started turning up at my desk hourly, and when he started to complain about the length of my bathroom break, I knew I had another one of those all-over-you-like-a-rash bosses on my hands and it was my duty to rid all future new recruits of this ache.
They would be thankful to me when they came along, they just wouldn’t know it. Not that it mattered. All I needed was a little peace in the work place. If a grown man had to resort to elementary school antics to show a girl he was interested, he needed an understanding girl to sort him out, and I was just the girl for the job.
‘What am I doing here?’
‘Oh, good, you’re wake. I had feared I’d have to taser you back to consciousness.’
He tried to wriggle free of the ropes that tightly held his arms behind his back, and wound up on the floor with a thud and a yelp.
‘What? Untie me right now Candy or …’
‘Or what, you’ll fire me?’
My continued posture and calm gaze seemed to unnerve him. His eyes glittered with anger, then hope.
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