I am starting to hear the sound. It’s a sound seldom heard by two people simultaneously. It’s like the beating heart under the floorboards. It’s loud and echo less; it does not weaken. It’s almost time. I look to her for forgiveness as she kisses the gag over my mouth. I feel myself struggle uselessly against the rope that binds me. However, I do not struggle to free myself. I struggle to touch her one last time, though my face says a very different story.

As she grabs the shovel behind me, I feel extremely fearful. I have accepted you as my chauffeur, but I do not want to take the trip yet. I will not fight, or flight; just take me home. As she pulls the shovel out, I yearn for the one thing I can not have under no circumstances: her touch. I know that she wants to touch me…with the intent to harm. Is she going to dig my grave first? Does she want to put my mind through the torture first? She’s raising it at an awkward angle. Why is she--