The spray of fibres dug into my neck. Each stray hair puncturing my flesh, trying desperately to tunnel it’s way into my throat. Even if I had wanted to scream, I knew I wouldn’t be able to; that tunnel was nothing more than a slit ay this point.
As the rope tightened, bark began to battle the rope hairs for domination of what was once my throat. A sadistic race to the finish. Unfortunately for the tree digging into the back of my head and neck, the rope was winning.
I felt the rope jerk again sending a serpentine burn running beneath my chin. I think my body tried to sob, or heave, or scream, or something. Too bad she wouldn’t let it. She was in control now. Her and that fucking rope. Honestly though, I can’t say that I minded.
An irritating tickling summoned a swarm of bumps across my cheek and neck as the rope brushed against the short hairs lining my skin. This is the part where she was tying the rope. I guess she needed both of her hands.
The air moved as she brushed past my shoulder and walked around to the other side of the tree. She stood in front of me so I could see her face. The left corner of her mouth twitched. I don’t know why I remember that. I don’t think I should’ve remembered that. In fact, her twitching should have been the last thing on my mind since I know it wasn’t on hers.
I could feel myself disintegrating. Blood was finding it harder to pump, pump, pump its way up to my skull. Things began to bleed together; the world was blossoming into a pantheistic mass of colour; where did the thick black outlines go?
I no longer had a face. It was just there. It didn’t belong to me anymore. It was more tree, or rope, or air than it was me. I almost didn’t feel her open mouth crush mine. Looking back, I don’t even know if I did. Have you ever been holding something in your hand and accidentally bashed it against a table or a wall and cried out in pain even though you didn’t feel it at all? I think this was one of those situations.
Who am I kidding? I think I am one of those situations.
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