Of course I do. It seems the most obvious thing in the world. My muscles lock up so tight I can’t even bend my tongue.
“Oh, where are my manners? Breath.”
The air is cold and sweet when it rushes down my throat. My dog, Skipper, whimpers next to me. He sounds scared. But the gentleman keeps on petting him, running painted green nails across Skipper’s fur.
“Do you understand what’s happening to you? Answer and then say nothing more. I forbid you to scream.” Continue reading