Claire Adams and JP

Claire Adams tightens the last strip of silver duct tape across Kitty’s mouth. The plastic bag comes down quick, crinkling over her face. Claire feeds a thin tube between the girl’s lips, then turns on the faucet. Water pours in. The bag swells, presses, forces Kitty’s breath to hiss through that narrow straw while her chest jerks. Each exhale bubbles, each inhale sucks the wet plastic tighter. Claire watches the struggle, eyes sharp, one gloved hand pinning the bag to Kitty’s collarbone. The water level climbs. The plastic kisses skin. Kitty’s throat works around the tube, frantic and wet, and Claire leans in close, listening to every panicked breath like it’s the only sound worth hearing.