Fingers

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     I was back in my room. My friends were sitting with me. Especially him, who was right next to me. I sighed in relief. I felt him touch my hand. I pulled away. I wasn't ready. One of my friends pulled my hair. I shrieked and pushed her off of me.
     Soon, they all had their hands on me. Touching me, pulling me, yanking on me. I kept trying to push them off, but they kept grabbing. They kept whispering things. Things I can't remember. I kept kicking and pushing them off of me, but they wouldn't leave me alone. They were pulling my hair. Misshaping my face. Pulling my arms and legs, almost dislocating them. I couldn't get them off of me. They were squeezing me, making me skinner. It felt like they were ripping the fat and skin off of me.
     I saw myself start to look different. Feel different. I was short of breath. My bones showing through skin. They all kept squeezing. I couldn't breathe. I begged for them to stop. I couldn't fight back. There was nothing in me anymore.
     He grabbed me. He grabbed my face and squeezed. The others did the same, yanking and cutting my hair. They were tearing away what I had. My face got skinner. Morphed.
     He smiled at what was now my face, but it suddenly turned back into a frown. He squeezed harder. I felt my jaw crack. My teeth break. I felt my face fall apart and all I could do was cry.
     Suddenly they let go. They looked at me, and they looked away in disgust. In sadness. Even him. He seemed the most disgusted. He mumbled something, and suddenly I was awake.

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