“Fuck you! Fuck…” and then I continued swearing words that didn’t go together or make sense. None of it made sense. None of it, except my hand...at her throat. That made perfect sense.I felt her try to swallow. Actually felt her throat move beneath the cartilage I was squeezing. And still, she held my wrist tightly, pulling my hand against her throat. Her face was almost purple now, her lips were starting to turn blue. And still, still, she fucking held me to her!I let go of her throat, as if I. Ron was in the kitchen. He had the jug already on, and he was looking for tea, sugar and cups. He had a cup out for me, but he hadn’t put anything in it. “What’s your morning poison?” he asked.“Tea would be great,” I said getting the milk from the fridge. “What do you want for breakfast?”“Whatever,” he replied.I offered bacon and eggs, and he agreed. I got the pan down and put it on the element to get hot. When I turned, he had the eggs, bacon and butter on the bench for me. He found the plates. More

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