Fire in the Hole
PENELOPE
I couldn’t breathe.
And it wasn’t from nervousness. Not from fear or anxiety or even the all-consuming dread that I felt the minute I heard sounds around me.
I couldn’t breathe because someone was quietly crushing my windpipe.
I thought the coast was clear. I walked back into the center of the room and into a pair of hands that were as strong as the Jaws of Life. A voice, barely more audible than a breeze, washed in heavy breaths across my frightened face.
The breaths were cool, disturbingly even, and had a sweet smell tinged with the scent of whiskey. Surprisingly pleasant, it was the only thing my terrified mind could process.
Maybe because I knew that it would be the last thing my brain would ever remember…
I tried to speak, but the sound of my voice di
