I couldn't breathe. I needed air. They were going to suffocate me. A slow death. A miserable, slow, effortless death. I wondered what they'd do to my body. Leave it here to rot, let the crows have me. Maybe slice me to pieces, or put me on display. I stopped thinking. I could breathe again. I wasn't going to die just yet. Then they pushed me to the floor and I fell hard, unable to get to my feet again. Maybe I was wrong. They still had the chance to kill me then and there. I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to die.
[105 words]
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