Delia scrambles, her vision darkening as Joyce squeezes her throat even tighter. She can’t think – can’t breathe –
All she can do is look into his cruel face, his teeth elongating before her eyes, his rage overtaking his desire for information –
Then, suddenly, there’s a crash and the pressure on her throat lessens -
Delia gasps, welcoming the fresh rush of oxygen that floods her throat, falling to her knees. Her hands go directly to her neck, soothing her wounded skin, but she frantically looks around, trying to figure out what –
There – on the floor, Joyce, his eyes closed and his mouth open – glass and liquid scattered all over his back and around him – as Delia, breathes her nose smarts at the scent -
Delia’s eye flit upwards to see Cliff standing there, the neck of a broken liq
