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Frantically to the side of the dock. Scrambling. Forcing her unwilling body to move.
“NO!” he yelled.
Feet first, she slid over the edge.
Shrieking in pain, he lunged, his hands finding her hair.
She slid lower.
He grabbed again.
This time his fingers tangled in the rosary still looped over her neck. With a jerk, he pulled her upward while her legs and arms flailed and splashed. “No!” he growled, the noose tightening.
She flung her body backward.
The rosary moved upward, landing under her chin, digging into the soft flesh not protected by her choker.
He twisted it tight and she tried to strike him, to hit and scratch his face as he leaned close.
Still it coiled, like a boa constrictor, squeezing her throat.
He yanked.
Her body rose from the water.
“Fuck, oh . . . shit!” He was doing something with the rosary, cinching it.
The world spun.
She couldn’t breathe!
The loud noise thundered in her ears.
Still he was twisting the loop around. “Damn it, I can’t—”
He was working the chain, the sharp stones cutting deep.
“Hey! You!” a voice—deep, but far, far away.
The blackness threatened to swallow her.
She couldn’t breathe!
Her lungs . . . oh, God, her lungs were going to explode!
She blinked.
The world faded.
A final hard jerk on the noose.
Her head snapped back.
Something gave.
Her choker burst. Pearlescent beads flew into the darkness, plopping like thick raindrops onto the water.
And then the world stopped.
