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On her skin, the water in the fountain is cool. In her lungs, the water feels like ice, tiny shards of ice that pop each bubble of oxygen that hasn't yet escaped with her desperate, futile screams. Her body flails in unavailing attempts to escape Klaus' hold on her, his hand unrelenting, holding her just under the surface.
Briefly, she wonders if the Gilberts felt this deep-set panic...
Please, Tyler, please be safe. Please don't come back here.
Her body goes limp.
In memory of Carol Lockwood
Wife, Mother, Mayor
December 13, 2012