His own strong arms bringing the hard back edge of the chairs frame painfully into his chest. Phillip's chair was an old dinette chair with a chromed ...etal pipe running around the back and then going down to become the legs below. On the chair that Phillip had sat in tonight there was a loose screw; this screw would usually be snugged down into a counter-sunk recess so that it would never be noticed, much less felt by anyone. Tonight that little screw was like a spike, pressing like a blunt. He paused and dropped his tools and grabbed her by the hair again, "Say it!" "No!" she sobbed some more, "No, I won't! You can't make me!" Her eyes were red and angry, and her tears mixed with her mascara, leaving black tracks running down her cheeks. She coughed and sniffled, trying to regain her composure. Trying to be brave. She looked back at the clock. 15 minutes. He saw her glance away from him to the clock and he looked after her and smiled. "Only half done, Yvette. And you're barely. More

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