AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Go to hell,” I said, proud at how little my voice shook.
To that, he snorted as he pulled back, then swung out.
This time, he released me, so when the impact hit, I went flying.
I couldn’t break my fall with my bad wrist, so I just landed hard on my side and rolled, tried to get to my knees, so I could gain my feet again.
But I was too slow.
He was behind me.
Grabbing me.
Turning me to face him.
“Fine. Have it your way. I’ll find it without you,” he said as his hands closed around my throat, pressing, cutting off my air.
It was my second biggest fear, aside from dying of fire. Strangulation. Not being able to breathe.
Even as I thought it, I could feel the tightness in my chest, the desperate urge to suck in a breath, the fuzzy feeling of my face as I started to get deprived of oxygen.
It was right then, though, that a strange, unexpected memory came rushing back.
Of me on the couch next to my father as he watched another one of the action movies he could never get enough of.
The scene was a girl getting strangled by the bad guy.
And he’d been raging at the screen.
“Why the fuck don’t they just play dead?” he’d asked, gesturing with a handful of popcorn, making it scatter across the carpet. “It takes longer to strangle someone than anyone realizes. Three full minutes or something like that. Only pros would know to time it right,” he’d said. “They should just go limp. Play dead.”
I’d rolled my eyes at him, a teenager with a dad who thought he knew it all while, clearly, I was more worldly because all teens thought that nonsense.
Go limp, I swore I could hear his voice in my ear. Play dead.
I used to praise myself at being good at playing a part, enjoying the hell out of theater in middle and high school.
So, staring at my killer, I focused on making my eyes go blank, forcefully unfocusing them, making them seem lifeless.
Slowly, then all at once, I let my body completely slacken.
I tried to keep myself calm as the movement made his hands tighten more for a moment as he held all my weight.
But then, suddenly, like a miracle, his hands were releasing me.
I focused on holding my breath, despite the burn in my chest, begging for oxygen, as he looked down at me for a second as I let my body stay in the unnatural position, legs cocked, arms out in an uncomfortable angle.
“Fucking shame to lose all that pretty,” he said, then turned. “Stay the fuck away from me, mutt,” he growled at Storm as I took a tiny little breath that did little to ease the pain in my lungs.
But I didn’t dare to take the gasping breath I was nearly dying for until the crunch of his footsteps were well off in the distance.
Then I was gulping at air, a fish beached on the sand.
It was that which had Storm rushing over to me, licking at my face as, I imagined, relief flooded his system.
I didn’t dare move. Not yet.
I just lay there, breathing, saying a silent prayer, thanking God, the universe, the angels, and my father that I would live to see another day.
