7 grabs me and brings me to his salivating mouth; his drool making little "rivers" in his already chapped lips.
I'm scared as I'm held in front of this boy's face, the fact that he was at least 5 years younger than me, and therefore more likely to be impulsive in his decisions, filled me with terror. These are my last moments, and it is no longer a question as to whether I get eaten, but rather a question of whether 7 will let me keep my dignity; will he end my life quickly by chewing me up, or leave me alive-swallow me whole, to experience the anguish of being torn apart by his digestive enzymes. I hope he spares me that!
But evidently, he wanted me to suffer, as I was jostled around his mouth for a while, to lubricate my body for its trip down the narrow throat. I could feel the muscles in the mouth working me to the back. With a powerful swallow, I fell down the tunnel, which would lead to my final conscious destination.
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