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Slam
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My Critique Process
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Sandy stumbled for balance as he lost his grip on Nancy, still aching from the waist down but still blinded with rage from the neck up. His knuckles had cracked from beating against Nancy’s face and blood was lightly dripping from his hands, but that pain would have never registered against the maddening adrenaline that had taken over.

He grabbed at Nancy’s hair as she leant against the tub, pulling and tearing as he tried to get his hold on her again. His hand clawed for her throat, still seeking that delicate and breakable windpipe, as his face pulled back into a grisly expression, but Nancy’s resistance made it impossible to get a good grip.

In all the violent shaking, Sandy got a brief but sufficient look at the filthy, fetid water that filled the tub. Changing tactics, he shifted his weight and forced Nancy’s head down as hard as he could, sending her under the murky surface as water splashed out of the tub and onto his coat. He leaned forwards, putting all of his strength onto keeping Nancy down, making sure there was no way she’d ever surface ever again.
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幽霊屋敷 · Water Treatment