She added breathing hoses to both hoods, stuffing the hose up the nostrils of each unhappy subject and making sure they were now breathing easily through the dual extensions. When Mavis tried to resist the insertions, D spoke to her quietly, saying, “You could have died in your bedroom, and you could have died from the whipping, but now, if you keep fighting me, you’ll die in this casket because without the hoses, you will not get enough air to survive. How do you want to go, Lovey?” Mavis ceased struggling and the hoses went up her nose.
“Now,” D intoned, tapping her index finger on M’s hooded forehead, “you just lie there and get comfortable. I’m sure that having your hands under you will be annoying, but I’ve managed to survive in the same position for days. Maybe you will too.” M groa
