It’s a Friday afternoon, and my Dad is at work. Madison is here. She’s so intent, as she looks over the tools I’ve been collecting, found or bought with...heh. ‘Blood money’. She likes the lighter things. Sharper things. Small knives, razor blades, nails and hooks and the few arrowheads I still have. Haven’t made much use of those…

“Hey, Madison?”

She perks up, looks my way. “Yeah?”

I’m not sure what else to say, now that I have her attention. Her faint confusion, as I walk up to her, is interesting...and so is the way she steps back, when I draw just a little too close. Not fear, really. I don’t think? But when I push again, she folds another step. And another, and another, until her back hits drywall and she can’t go any further.

She swallows, looking up at me...uncertain. Not afraid, but not sure what’s happening. There’s a difference, something faint, but notable. No context, nothing good or bad, just...anticipation. Readiness.

“Taylor?”

I hum, and reach up. Her pulse is steady, under my fingertips...picking up a bit, now. Is that fear? Warmth (blood) under my fingers...her pulse against my palms, breathing almost undetectable under my thumbs.

Just a bit of pressure. Breath catches. Blood rushes. Madison looks up at me with such wide eyes, her hands coming up to wrap around my wrists. Loose. Limp. Not struggling...yet. I wonder…

Breathing becomes labored, as I squeeze. Pulse picks up again, the beginnings of fear, or else some kind of reaction to the pressure, trying to force blood through to her brain. Her grip on me tightens in turn...and when I push harder, her nails start to dig in. Seconds pass, gasping, choking seconds...and then it stops, as I cut her off entirely.

Now she struggles, weakly. Half-heartedly at first. But as a little more time passes, as her face turns red and her eyes start to tear, with intent. Weakened, instinctive, she catches at my collar, tries to go for my face, but I’ve got the reach to avoid that.

Red turns purple. She tries to push away from the wall, tries to kick at me, tries...but she’s failing. Falling. I can almost see the black creeping in on her vision.

I let her go.

She slumps, sliding boneless down the wall. Gasping for breath, hands to her own neck as she struggles for the air I’d been denying her.

My hands ache. Shake. Distantly, I realize that my own breathing has gone as ragged as hers.

That...was much better than using the rope.

I turn, and sit down beside her. Draw her, shaking, into my arms. “Shhh. Breathe. Just breathe. You’re alright.” Comforting words. Circles rubbed on her back. It’s strange to be on this side of these things, but Madison does seem to relax.

“I was thinking of going out, again. Soon.” Half confession. Madison shifts, makes a questioning noise, and I shake my head. “I think...I’ll give it another week. To be safe.”

Her shivering slowly abates. She breathes easier. After a time, she looks up, and I can’t help watching the red marks on her neck. “We’ll get to come with you, right?”

What a question.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”