The Drowning, by Ann-Louise Truschel

He locked her in the bathroom and began to fill the tub.

“Let me check the water temperature,” he said smiling. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

She ran to the door trying to escape, but the closed door held. In terror she fled to the far end of her prison, trembling, waiting for the inevitable.

He laughed at her distress. “It will all be over very soon.”

Then grabbed her, put her into the water and held her there. She screamed and struggled.

“I know you hate this, Kitty, but we’ve got to get rid of your fleas!”


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