The Mechanic pulled Lorna onto his lap. He remained fully clothed, true to his word visa vie his non-sexual intentions. He leaned over and wound the window down three quarters of the way. He seized her throat.
The ridge of the window dug into the back of Lorna’s neck as her head was forced to lean out. She fixed her eyes on the tree that had almost provided her sanctuary; the tighter he squeezed, the more focused her gaze became. Ridges and knots were difficult to make out in the dark, but she tried anyway; anything to keep her brain alive.
The way Lorna clung to her miserable life was delicious. The struggle wasn’t physical - she seemed to be aware that any push against him would hasten her demise – but the body could go on forever as long as the mind was still firing on all four cylinders - The Mechanic knew that better than anyone. He had changed things around this time, opting to throttle rather than gradually eek the life out of her. She would be his final kill, and he wanted her to look him in the eye; it would allow her the honour of watching her life fade away from his point of view.
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