Fiction

He was slowly winding his fist through my hair

Short Story

He was slowly winding his fist through my hair, entangling his fingers. His strong fingers held onto the back of my skull with unnerving conviction and seemingly impossible strength. The goosebumps that had threaded the entirety of my body now pulsed with frantic electricity. I felt my breath catch in my throat before I had a chance to breathe. My throat felt wet and sticky.

“This won’t hurt,” he said, thrusting my head underwater.