. in a minute or less I'll feel the trapdoor fall away and begin my battle for air. A battle that I will inevitably lose.At first, I wasn't sure which...would be better: to watch one of the other girls die, kicking and struggling in the noose; or to experience that ultimate sensation myself, hanging, strangling, cumming, dying.After a couple of days I decided it was better to watch. No, not because I'm afraid of death. No. But when another girl is chosen, I get to watch. It excites me so, to. Her style is always evolving. In high school, she was thrift shop chic. In college she became preppy. She used to hate traditional clothing.It’s the first time we’ve been face-to-face in years.I am leaving in a few weeks. After graduation, I’m moving across the country to start my career.“I don’t want you to go,” she says. “I made a horrible mistake and I’m just realizing it.” She smiles nervously. She takes my hand in hers. She’s warm and friendly. My heart flutters. I am a ship. More

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