Today's OneWord: Control

Shelby thought she was in control of the situation. She thought wrong. Now she was kneeling in the corner of the ramshackle room, watching helplessly as her colleagues came literally to blows. She didn't think she would ever have to hear the crunching of cartilage under fists, or smell the metallic tang of blood on the front of white and pink collared shirts.

After a moment, she stood up shakily, walking to the desk to retrieve something sharp. She found a fountain pen, right as Tim was about to slam Alan's frail body into the center table.

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