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Summary
"Not leaving me high and dry in your own place, are ya babes?"
The hook pulled. It yanked, it strained. It was barbed, it dug into his skin. The suit reeled the line, desperate to pull him in. Surely it would rip his flesh, take him piece by piece, tear him apart. He wanted to scream, to beg, to split into two. He gripped his abdomen with both arms, hiding his body, retreating into shame, anchoring himself with guilt.
"Come here, my lovely."
He was obsessed with how things used to be.
Repetition was key.