Now, he was ready and so was I.Julie stood when I did. I wiggled a finger at her, motioning her to walk towards me. She took one giant step. Andy grab...ed her from behind, using a technique Madame Diana taught us to yank her arms behind her, twisting them to hold her securely. Julie screamed in surprise. I jumped to her, my face, contorted in mock rage, inches from hers.“I will gag you if you scream. You cannot breathe with a gag. Will you be quiet?”“Yes. Please don’t gag me,” she said. She had. Her name was Fathima and was my school friend once upon a time. Instagram connected us later. She had a perfect 30-26-28 body. I had forgotten about her but I saw her profile once on Instagram and started texting her since then. We talked about our personal lives.She told me how bad it was to be born in a Muslim family. You cannot wear jeans and tops to college like other girls. I have to only wear chudidhar and cover themselves with a niqab all the time. She told me how her father scolded her. More

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