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January 13, 2018
I struggle with a muddy leather man. I am not strong enough for this but I have no choice. He wants to drown me in the mud, or kill me some other way if he can. He folds me into a stiff embrace and forces me down, down where I cannot breathe. My hands are grasping for air, but instead they come to a pistol fastened to his belt. It is a clip of sorts and comes loose quickly. It feels like a semi-automatic. I wonder if a round is chambered. Probably not. I pull the trigger. I climb out.