He opened his mouth in an animal growl. His fingers tightened around my throat.
I dropped to my knees, struggling to free myself. I wheezed as I struggled to take in air.
I grabbed his arms and tried to pull his hands off me. But he was suddenly so strong, so strong.
“Can’t breathe!” I gasped. “Please!”
I staggered to my feet. Frantically grabbed him around the waist. And falling forward, stumbling, choking, I slammed him into the wall.
His hands slid off me. He uttered a startled cry.
I shoved him out of the way and burst out the front door. Sucking in breath after breath, I jumped off the front stoop and kept running. Down the front
lawn, leaping over a coiled garden hose my dad had left there. Over the sidewalk, onto the street.
I ran. Not thinking. Not feeling anything. My throat aching, throbbing.
Peter… Peter… Peter…