(Risa)

He only sits in the rocking chair. It has become his home. All he ever does is weep silently to himself. He is the only one who will listen. He hasn't talked since Riku came home. The chair creaks, his shadow enlarges and grows smaller with every movement to and fro. His feet are firmly pressed against the floor, just as the empty bottle is firmly pressed against his thirsty lips.

He will not leave the living room, so Riku and I decided that we would take turns giving him his daily meals. Otherwise, he will not eat. We even have to stand there and feed him as if he were an infant. He lost his will to eat, to drink, and even to speak. His responses are limited to either a thumbs up or a thumbs down, or a simple nod. He won't even shake his head. Riku and I have become mothers of a sort, hating him for reducing himself to a helpless child.

I've shouted. I've shaken his shoulders. And yes, I even slapped him. But that only made more tears run down his sagged face. Riku scolded me for my violent behavior, saying, "You can't force him to be like he used to. This is how he wants to spend his days. It's not his fault he's like this. He was married to Mom for a long time."

Riku and I sleep in the same bed now. She buries her face into my pillow, holding on to my hand. I watch her sleep.

And the creaking keeps me up at night.

His face never leaves my mind. On the rare occasions that it does, its never far behind. In my dreams, I can see him. In my heart, I can feel him. Constantly I'm plagued by those sunken eyes, buried halfway under his lazy eyelids. They look more like dripping glass marbles than human eyes in my distorted thoughts. His hair grows thicker with each passing day. We tell him to shave, but he never listens.

I would walk past his lonely figure before I went out the door, and every time I do, he would lift his heavy eyes so slowly, so very slowly, to look up at me. I never returned it. I was too afraid to. I was afraid that, even if I shot a quick glance in his direction, his sad face would haunt me until he wasted away in that rocking chair, surrounded by the corpses of porcelain dolls. Forever etched in my brain.

At night, I lull Riku to sleep. I run my fingers through her red hair, letting those soft strands slide off my fingers like frail blades of grass. I hardly sleep. Behind my eyes always waits the same image. The chair.

He doesn't know, but I stay up with him.

And that ceaseless creaking keeps me up at night.

(Exeunt)

(Satoshi)

I open the back door and turn the corner. While walking to my tree, I see a familiar shape. Her hair is messy and lays all over her shoulders, framing her perfect face. Wait. Her face would be perfect, if it wasn't contorted into an angry expression.

I approach her cautiously, thinking of a proper response. But her position brings back a disturbing memory. Krad had his arms crossed like that once. He was issuing that same glare.

I cut straight to the point. "I assume you're still angry with me for our previous engagement."

"Don't talk like that! I hate it when you do that! And what you did at my house was really rude! I don't appreciate that, you know!"

A part of me foolishly wishes she suffered from short term memory loss, so as not to remember my little blunder at her front porch. But another part of me is enjoying that helplessly cute frown on her face. If she were any angrier, her little pink lip would be sticking out like an irritated infant.

I force a smirk. "I've always admired a fiery temperament in a woman. Not many people have the confidence to shout at me."

Unzipping my book bag and settling myself on the ground, I take out a brand new canvas. Her silence irks me. What I said isn't that surprising, is it? I told her the truth. I like women who aren't afraid to stand up for themselves. And people don't generally shout at me. I hope I didn't ruin the conversation with that simple statement.

"You came here to scold me; speak, Miss Harada," I teased, attempting a half smile.

She stares as if she's pondering my next move. She thinks me mad, possibly intoxicated, but surely I'm not being flirtatious with her.

"I hope you're not high on something.." she murmurs, her suspicious expression deepening.

"I'm sorry?"

Risa shakes her head. "Nothing. I don't know what you were doing at my house, but.."

"Which reminds me," I interrupted, slipping out my brushes and paints, "I did indeed get into a fight."

In a quarter of a second, her eyes flash with curiosity. "With who? What happened? Did you lose? Did--"

"Calm yourself, Miss Harada--"

"Risa." She said firmly.

"Erm, yes, Risa.." I said, slightly confused. I'll call her by her name if it's so important to her, though I don't understand why.

Why must I call her Risa all the time? It's not like we're friends or anything. We're just acquaintances. There's a difference. I don't hang out with her every day like her friends do.

I correct myself. Used to.

She gestures me to move along. "Come on, tell me what happened already! And stop being so formal, I hate that!"

I relaxed my shoulders and frowned."What is there to tell? I'm a police officer, and I fought to disarm a dangerous purse snatcher."

I immediately turn my head away, biting my lip and squinting my eyes. A purse

snatcher? Damn it, Hikari, could you think of a cornier lie?

Following my interlude of internal humiliation, a moment of silence falls on us.

"That's not really what happened, is it?" She questioned, not even convinced in the slightest.

I flushed, feeling betrayed because she did not believe my lie. She's changed a lot in these past few months following her mother's death. She used to be so childish, so free, so...feminine. Now she's no longer naive and unsuspecting like she used to be. She's skeptical and straightforward. I hate to admit it, even in the safety of my thoughts, but this seriously scares me. I hope she doesn't stay this way.

I turn to make a reply to her, having restored my usual reserved countenance. "It's quite insulting that you take me for a liar. Perhaps you have overstayed your welcome at my tree."

She flinched, obviously hurt. "No—yes! I don't want to be at your stupid tree anyway!" She gets up and brushes off her skirt, about to saunter away from me.

Before my pride, my thoughts or senses retrieved me, I helplessly blurted out:

"Forgive me...Risa."

She stiffens briefly, to imbibe my apology and accept that one out-of-character sentence as having actually been uttered. But her anger was quick to save her from forgiving me so quickly.

"Why should I?" She said, still having her back turned to me. "You said it yourself—I've overstayed my welcome!"

"I was just a little disturbed that you thought I wasn't telling the truth. I'm not a treacherous person, Risa...you can trust me."

A flicker of regret pains my heart as I debate with myself on the truthfulness of that.

She turns around. Her eyes gleam, and her lips break into a faint smile.

"Can I?" She asks softly, intimating permission to sit.

I nod.

She sits down on the dewy grass, peering at my blank canvas. "I wish you would let me keep that painting."

"Of course.." I said absentmindedly, losing myself in her eyes. But reality returned to me, and her words forced me to relive the memory of it being consumed in the fire. "Oh, I'm sorry...the painting.."

"Dammit, Krad! Give it back!" I spring up and swipe at the elevated painting, but my failed attempt is met with a hard slap across my face. I stumble back, holding my cheek. My lips and hands quiver in disbelief. He actually struck me. It's been such a long time since our fights have gotten to the point of physical violence, but with Krad's malicious tendencies it was only a matter of time. "K-Krad..." I stammered.

"Yes?"

"It was...destroyed, I'm afraid."

She was taken aback. "Wha...destroyed?"

"I'm afraid that when I got home I clumsily dropped my paintings on it.." I said sheepishly, breaking eye contact, "It's quite a colorful mess now."

She narrows her eyes and becomes silent. Realizing that I've ruined the moment between us, I sought to make it right again. But nothing was coming to mind, unfortunately. I wished I had just given her the painting right then and there. Had I not so stupidly taken it home, it wouldn't be a heap of ashes now.

Why am I so mindless when I'm near her? It's not like she's different from any other girl..

Wait. Here's my chance to make things right again. Here's the opportunity to be...normal now..

I lift my head, overcome by a once dangerous notion. I can do this now. I don't have to be afraid. I don't have to be cautious. I can throw myself freely at her, without him behind my back now.

Feeling, at long last, liberated, my muscles relax. My mind is at ease for the first time in my life. The new feeling consumes me completely. I forget anything previous to it.

I clutch my pendant, not conscious that she is watching. So tightly, as I reflect on my new found freedom.

The words flow from my mouth like sheer silk. "I feel terrible for my clumsiness, Risa. May I make it up to you by taking you somewhere after school?"

(Exeunt)

(Risa)

It feels weird to me. Doesn't feel right. I mean, it's been such a long time since anyone asked me out...probably because I was pursuing Dark all the time, and I didn't really pay attention to anything but him. He was always in my mind. His black wings. I wondered what they would feel like against my skin. His suave appearance, his midnight locks.

But he seems farther from me than the most inconceivable dream.

I'm trying to imagine a life where my childish reveries are nothing but what they originally were. What will never come true.

But it seems wrong to me. Maybe it's just because this is new. I have no reason to be afraid. None at all. But why this feeling in my gut?

I ponder the reason while I examine my breasts again. I remember that when they first started to grow, I was excited. My mom had those. I wanted them too. And when I finally got to try on my new bra, Mom helped me choose which ones I liked. I liked the lingerie.

She said, "Oh, honey, I like those too. I even have a few at home," she giggled girlishly, "But I'm afraid that's for women as grown as Mommy. You can't get these until you're older."

"One day, right?"

"Yes, pooh bear. One day, you'll be as big as Mommy."

"Mom, I told you not to call me that any more. I'm not a kid."

"Silly! You'll always be my Risa-pooh bear. Always."

"Always." I muttered, stroking the strap of my bra and sliding it over my shoulder.

"Risa, where have you been?" She says, slamming the spoon down on the kitchen counter. "Dinner was done ages ago! You know, you can't just walk around Azumano late at night! There are bad people out there!"

"I was just taking a walk!"

"Risa!" She gasped, "Why are you lying to your mother? I know exactly what you were doing! Riku said--"

"Riku!" I cried, sauntering to the living room. "You rat!"

"She's going to hurt her sister!" My mom sobbed.

Dad grabbed me before I had time to blink and forced me to sit down on a nearby chair. "Now, you will sit here and listen to your mother, young lady! I thought I'd never see the day where you ventured out late at night to see some boy!"

"It's that pervert Dark! He's the one she's going out late at night for!" Riku said, poking her head out into the kitchen.

My mother gasped and turned to me. "Tell me it isn't true! Risa, he's a thief! He's not a man you can marry and have children with!"

I covered my ears. "Stop it! Stop it! I don't want to hear it! You're driving me crazy! Leave me alone!"

A few months later, I got my wish. Mom died, Dad disappeared, Riku left, and I separated myself from all my friends, including Daisuke. I was alone, just like I wanted.

But then I found out that being alone was not what I wanted at all. During my solitary musings in my lonely home—being tormented by phantasm—I knew a terror in me. And that terror was with me, following me everywhere. That silent terror. It was in the classroom. It was in the hospital. It was in the bedroom. It slept with me and the pink dress. That realization.

She was gone. Up there. In a careless tempest of clouds. And I was on the Earth, suffering the terror night and day.

I was alone.

But how could fortune smile upon me—so as to give me another broken heart to find consolation with?

I knew from the moment I saw his face. I knew from the way he spoke to me. I knew from the painting. From seeing me sitting on the grass, reading prose.

I knew he felt that terror too.

And now maybe he can mend my sad heart, and I can mend his.

My dark thoughts left me, replaced by a cloud of sunshine and a burst of vivacity. Why am I being so caught up in such dark meanderings? I have to meet Satoshi soon—for ice cream.

I think Mom would be proud. He's not a thief. He's not an elusive shadow of the night. He's a intelligent policeman who gets good grades and always gives the teachers an apple on "teacher appreciation" day. He dedicates all his extra time to fighting for the greater good and the safety of priceless art work.

...But he's also an eccentric boy who was waiting for me at my doorstep one night. He also hardly ever talks in class. His blue eyes are so incredibly cold, they can't be human. His hair is so fair and smooth—unlike most boys, whose hair is usually a thick heap of spikes. He's the Boo Radley of the real world, sitting in his desk and staring out the window at nothing. Other times he can be like Heathcliff—misanthropic and quick to glare at someone who tries to befriend him. Trust and happiness are foreign to him.

But its not like its hard to overlook that. I'm pretty sure he has a good reason for acting the way that he does. It could be out of habit. Maybe police work taught him not to plant his trust in anyone. He could have been hardened by cruelty in the past. Or maybe he's like me. Maybe he lost a family member and never recovered. A thousand possibilities, but in the end I can only guess at it.

Oh, what am I being so worried for? Of all the unnecessary feelings! It's not like he's dangerous or has a terrible secret. He's just shy, that's all. Just a little shy...

It's not like he has two parts of himself—like Daisuke does.

(Satoshi)

Should I be nervous? Maybe. As much as I hate to admit it—and one shouldn't be tricked by the squealing throng of fan girls I encounter every day—I've never been on a date before.

Ice cream really wasn't what I had in mind. I was thinking I could take her to dinner—like my stepfather does to all the pretty women he dates. But then again, her face lit up in such a way...that I don't think going out for ice cream disappointed her at all, even knowing I have far too much money to spare for more luxurious things. I think she really likes my company—as peculiar as that sounds.

Oh wait, here she comes now.

She's wearing a white dress with a square shaped neckline, ruffles adorning the edges of it and her shoulder sleeves. The waistline is cut just below her bosom, almost in the likeness of a maternity dress, wrapped beneath her chest in white lace. The dress ends just mid-knee, topped off with shiny white dress shoes with a bow in the middle of them—and of course, who could possibly forget—her trademark bow in the back of her head, with two side sections clipped back. Her womanly aura finally restored.

"Hi, Satoshi!" she calls jubilantly, running up to me, "So, what are your plans? Are we going to Dairy Queen or something?"

"Um, no. I actually had someplace different in mind. Have you ever heard of an ice cream shop called Tokyo Treats?"

"Yeah, I think Riku went there once with Mom. I was too sick to go, though."

"Well, now I have the honor of taking you there." I smiled.

She didn't return my smile. Instead, her face suddenly darkened, like she was reminded of something unsettling. Unintentionally, I allowed her brooding self to resurface again.

"You know, the day she took Riku to that place—she said her chest started to ache," she started, murmuring solemnly, "And when she came home, the phone rang. Dad told us it was the doctor. He was calling about the biopsy. Of course, at that time, I didn't know what that was—no one in my family was afflicted with cancer."

Trying to ignore my new found guilt, I nodded and led her across the street. I tried only to focus on finding the parlor instead of listening. It didn't work out.

She continued, "I didn't think much of it...until I saw the look on her face. She was rubbing the seashell I gave her the year before. And I remember the phone was hanging off the handle. And the clock was ticking. I've never heard the ticking...that loud before.."

She averted her eyes to the pavement as we walked on, lost in herself. "I waited outside while Dad went in and closed the door. I heard fragments of a brief conversation, though I couldn't make much out. But before I left.." she looked up at me, "I heard Mom say 'It's malignant'."

I drew in a breath.

"That was two months ago," she muttered, pushing back stray strands behind her ear. "It's weird...that's exactly how long the doctor said she was going to live."

"Oh," was all I could manage to utter in my shock. I haven't spent nearly three minutes with her, and she just confided in me the last disturbing memories of her mother.

She came back to reality in an instant. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" She cried, clutching her cheeks. "I-It's just that...ever since--"

"It's alright, Risa. I know how it feels to suffer through the death of a loved one. It actually makes me feel better.." I was quick to reproach myself, "I mean, knowing I wasn't the only one who went through it. I talked to Daisuke, and I asked him if he ever cried over someone's passing. He said no."

"So you know how it feels." she smiled sheepishly, "You get lost sometimes...in your own thoughts. Say stuff you wouldn't say. Do things you wouldn't do."

I nodded, "Precisely."

"But we shouldn't talk about this stuff. Let's talk about ice cream instead!" She said, in a sudden exuberance of liveliness. "What's your favorite flavor?"

"I don't have a favorite, actually. I'm not one to favor certain things."

"So does that mean you don't have a favorite color? Or a favorite shirt?"

"Kind of. I have favorites, just very few."

"Oh, well my favorite flavor is chocolate chip mint. Loved it since I was small."

"I like that flavor myself. But I've only tried it once or twice because I was tired of all the others."

While we walked down town, she went on and on about things of no relevance, such as how Riku forgave her for falling on a doll named "Lucy", or knowing that Riku has been in love with Daisuke since she was three years old.

All the while I couldn't help but cherish every word—it wasn't like she was telling stories of great importance—but she found me acceptable as to know these things. No one but Daisuke would tell me about their pursuits and fears during childhood, which I thought, on some level, Risa was still going through.

Her mask completely faded, and I was beginning to believe that she was reverting back to her old self. And I was helping her by just listening. Maybe that's what she needed all along. Riku was in Daisuke's company all the time, her father was God knows where, and her mother was deceased. She literally had no one to pour herself out to. But now it's different.

We sit on a bench outside of the ice cream parlor and eat. I got vanilla with sprinkles. It was hard trying to justify myself without being laughed at—I told her that even though I'm 15, in some instances I'm still childlike.

I have a vague memory from when I assume I was three or four. And I saw a woman leaning over me. I assume she was my mother, but I could be wrong. It was the first time I've ever eaten ice cream. And she was handing something to me. I remember not knowing what it was, and feeling one of my first twinges of confusion. I didn't know what I was feeling. And I didn't know who the woman was or why she was giving this weird shaped thing that tasted so good..

She gave me vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.

When I feel it melt in my mouth...its like shes not gone. And when I bite into the hard cone, realize that she is.

I grasp the pendant again. I remember reading from a tattered book that my Great Grandfather gave this to my Mother to protect her from that psychopath.

"But it has a flaw.."

But I think that once...help didn't get to her in time.

Desperate to get the thoughts out of my mind, I asked her, "Do you like flowers?"

She turned to me, her eyes glimmering like diamonds. "Oh, yes, I do!" She cried gleefully, like I had just proposed to her.

I had her close her eyes as I led her to the back of the parlor, pushing through a heap of thick vines and reminding her to keep her eyes closed because it was a surprise. This only intensified her desire to open them, which was exactly my intentions. I received a profound pleasure at teasing her, for some odd reason.

What gave me pleasure even more than teasing her was holding her warm hand. It wasn't a romantic gesture to her at all; she probably reasoned I was doing that to stop her from getting lost. In reality, I was overcome with the desire to hold her hand but, after some thought, decided that I had to have a good reason for doing so, and I came up with one.

At our destination, I let go of her hand, which was slightly painful, and told her to open her eyes.

When she met the sight, she squealed with happiness, covering her mouth in awe.

What lay before her were lengthy fields of blooming Snapdragons, violet and white orchids, irises, roses, chrysanthemums...and every other kind of flower as far as the eye can see. Flitting Monarchs and Blue Morphos were noticeable from the distance, glittering in the flaring sunlight.

I half-smiled, trying not to let her know how happy I was that she was so impressed. "Well, behind the parlor there's a very vast meadow full of every kind of flower you can imagine. It's owned by an old man who's been a friend of my Stepfather's for years. The old man is sick and lame from his illness, and he's considering giving it to my Stepfather, who's considering giving it to me. But I don't know what I'd do with hundreds of flower patches.."

She let out a shaky breath as her hands slowly left her face, turning to look at me. "And..?"

"I imagine that owning this meadow would be quite expensive. I would have to hire a multitude of gardeners to tend to the flowers individually; not to mention security.."

"But you can pay for it, right?" She pursued.

"Yes. But I have no use for it."

She bit her lip. What she was thinking was obvious. I was just waiting for her to ask the question.

"Can you keep this...for me?"

"..." I replied, not sure what I should say.

"I know it's asking a lot, but I promise I'll visit it everyday! And I'll even help out with the gardening! Please?" She squeezed her hands together, eying me desperately.

Lucky for her, those eyes were too intense to ignore, and I don't think I could forgive myself if I denied her.

I averted my eyes to the ground. "Fine."

She cried out excitedly and grasped my hand. I fought a small gasp as she led me through the meadow, despite the fact that she has never been here before.

She let go of my hand to rip a few pink roses by their roots, carefully avoiding the thorns. She brushed off some of the earth caked on to the roots, and slid them behind her ear. It stuck in her hair perfectly while she trotted about, smelling the flowers and basking in their colorful ocean.

I watched intently while she lost herself in bliss, staring up into the bright blue sky and smiling, her eyes lighting up as if she were a creature in a flawless world.

Her hair blew past her face, intertwining with the puffy, flying seeds of dandelions and loose rose pedals and the like; she closed her eyes and imbibed the air.

"Is this real?" She murmured to herself, seeming to have forgotten all about me.

"Indeed." I said as I walked up to her. I shyly put my hands in my pockets and watched bees leap from flower to flower, carrying their sticky nectar with them.

She finally acknowledged my existence after gazing beyond the meadow for a few minutes, her attention stolen by the faraway threshold of a neighboring forest.

"Oh, Satoshi! I'm so sorry! I guess I was just so happy that I forgot...about everything.." she blushed, peering at me through her squinted eyes.

"Its alright. Enjoy yourself. Its what I brought you here for."

She jumped up in an instant, only to grab my hand again and sincerely convince me to race her. I declined two times, but finally gave in.

We took places beside each other, bracing for the impending race, as she counted to three.

"One.."

I wasn't too excited about this.

"Two.."

Maybe I should just forfeit right now..wouldn't want to destroy those flowers..

"Three!" She screamed, darting away from me. I quickly caught up with her, smiling as I passed her swiftly. She playfully called me a cheater, and quickened her pace.

I slowed down a bit to let her pass me, trying to get her hopes up; then I quickly passed her again. I was about to ask her where do we stop, but my question was interrupted as she screamed, "Look out!"

I received her warning too late: I tripped unwittingly and tumbled down a hill. She was quick to jump out after me, rolling down the hill while a flurry of flower pedals and dandelion seeds followed.

Unfortunately, we landed on top of each other.

I was too embarrassed to move, hoping that she would come to her senses and get off of me as soon as possible. I'm positive she could see how strongly I blushed. I turned my face away from her timidly while she spat flower residue from her mouth, trying to get her hair out of her face.

Just when I was thinking of getting up, she softly touched the edge of my cheek, sliding her finger down my neck. I gasped and gaped at her, trying to illicit shame, but to no avail. She narrowed her eyes and brought her soft finger to my lips, brushing them against it. I was motionless; one side of me hoped she would stop it immediately so I wouldn't be blushing so hard, the other part of me wanted her to continue—if she brought her finger to my lips again, I might be tempted to kiss it if I succumbed to this notion.

I gulped silently, feeling my heart beat faster as I submitted to the romantic part of me—the part that wanted to taste her lips. She withdrew her hand and used it to prop herself up over me. We were still on top of each other. Her long hair fell on my face, tickling my cheeks. The rays of sunlight were unable to penetrate through the wall of her thick hair, darkening her features. She closed her eyes and leaned in on me, slowly...ever so slowly, decreasing the gap between our faces.

As terrified as I was (yes, I was scared, feel free to laugh), I wanted this moment more than anything in the world. I had never received a kiss before—and if I have, I don't remember it.

It was probably from my mother, anyway.

Before that moment could complete itself, before I could seize her, I felt a terrible pain growing in my chest. It struck me like a bee sting, then intensified with each passing second. I grunted and rolled over, grasping my chest and hyperventilating. She fell off on the other side, quickly standing up to assist me.

Even though the pain was hindering my thinking, I knew the moment it rose in my chest who the perpetrator was. Fear and alarm overtook me as the adrenaline rushed through my veins faster than it ever had before...like the blood curdling fury of an internal tsunami.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! GO! RUN!"

"SATOSHI, PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT'S HAPPENI--"

(Exeunt)

(Author)

Before Risa could finish her sentence, Satoshi's back exploded as wings bursted through his skin, causing a shower of blood to stain her skin. Risa screamed and ran past him, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her mind was a frantic mess, crying out for her mother, for Riku, for God himself.

"NO! NO! AAH!" She helplessly yelled, trying to will herself to believe that this was a nightmare. But her brain wasn't cooperating; it was only concerned with fleeing as fast and as far as possible. She didn't realize how fast her legs were bringing her to the end of the meadow—right to the threshold of the welcoming forest. She jumped in on instinct, falling flat on her stomach and sliding to a halt, covered in mud and broken leaves.

Her consciousness was shifting to a red and frenzied haze as her vision failed, her senses beginning to die as she lethargically dragged herself behind the trunk of a tree, plopping against it hard. Waiting for death. Waiting for an inescapable demise while her defense mechanism took over her brain.

"But doctor..." the woman breathed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Tell me it isn't true.." she murmured.

The man in white stood before an assembly of x-rays, staring at them for a few moments before he came to the heart-stopping conclusion.

He slid his pen into his coat pocket and stared at her, dead in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Harada. This is aggressive."

Aya helplessly shook her head as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "No...no.."

"It's advanced." He said, looking down.

Aya burst out of the room, running down the white hallway, blinded by the unreality of this place, this moment. Just running.

Risa and Riku met their Mother by the door to the Emergency Room, leaning against it, twitching as her tears smudged her eyeliner.

The clock had begun it's monotone waltz.

Risa was ripped from her dark dreams and into cold reality as a man's hands wrapped themselves around her neck, viciously determined to cut off her air supply.

To be continued..