DIANE
Before I could get up, a rough hand grabbed the back of my shirt and yanked me up violently.
My back slammed hard against the metal wall of the storage shed. The impact sent sharp pain through my spine before I could even catch my breath.
Then a hand closed around my throat. Tight. Cutting off air.
"What did you hear?" the guard demanded, his voice low but dangerous. His grip tightened just enough to remind me how easily he could crush my airway.
My first instinct was panic. My heart started racing. My lungs fought for air.
Don't panic.
The thought came fast. Clear. Urgent.
I forced my breathing to slow despite the pressure on my neck. Forced my eyes to focus. Forced my mind to work instead of react.
Think.
If I answered too fast or hesitated, it would sound suspicious.
So I did the only thing survival had taught me. I became small, harmless.
My fingers weakly grabbed his wrist, not to fight, just to show I was struggling to breathe.
