Marshmallows for breakfast [antikvár]

prologue/ , I' This is Hke the moment between heartbeats. The space where nothing happens. Where the blood slows in your veins, your breath catches and your mind spins out into that huge blank space of unreality. I'm talking to him on the phone. It's him. It's really him. 'We need to talk about our baby,' he says. 1 would throw down the phone ifl could move. If his voice hadn't snaked its way through my body and caused aU my muscles to petrify. 'Kendra?' he asks. 'Can you hear me?' The Une crackles slightly because he's calling from a mobile, a phone is ringing somewhere across my otherwise empty office but I can hear him. Of course I can hear him. Every word is clear and precise, his low voice as deep and smooth as a vat of warm syrup. I can hear him and the memory of him flashes through my mind. His large, muscular hand reaches out to stop me from stumbling; his " ^ steel-like grip encases my throat. His mouth smiles as he says he'll ' • < do anything for me; his breath is against my ear as he promises to !! i., kill me. Wi