As I remained rooted to where I stood, daring not to move, caught in the hypnotic trance of that dominating stare, I could feel my willpower weaken.
My hands began to quiver, my palms sweating. My knees became weak, threatening to buckle under my body's pressure - arms, heavy like lead, pinned to my sides.
My thoughts raced around my head, unsure of where to go, what to think. Amongst the fray, a few strands of sanity managed to seep through, slippery eels of thought clasping onto my consciousness. I realised that I had an opportunity here, with this woman reading my every thought. I could seize everything I ever wanted. I had but a single moment in time to spare; would I capture it, or let it slip away?
With resolute determination, I turned what little I could control of my mind towards the memories of that night; that gruesome, gory night. My throat clenched as a churning in my stomach threatened to explode. The hold on my mind had weakened! 746Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbJro2ju3nC
I dared a glance down at my chest, feeling a clammy cold seizing my lungs. The wench was retching, down on her knees. What weighed down on my breast was not blood, but there was vomit on my sweater already. I felt a tear well up in my eye at the memories it brought. Mom's spaghetti.
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