He made fists, and that hurt, and he made that sound again. It crushed my chest so that I couldn't breathe, closed my throat. He didn't have to, but he knew me too well. Sounds, then.
I wanted a choice, and I didn't seem to have any. The cat paused long enough to sniff the air, as if wondering what he was. I tried to ask him where Ronnie was, but he just smiled, shook his head, and managed to hold an empty glass up, asking if we wanted a drink. His eyes said clearly, Help me.
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