Ten seconds. His thrashing weakened. His eyelids fluttered.

“Say you’re done,” I said, easing the pressure a fraction so he could force air through.

“D-done,” he gurgled.

I let go immediately.

I stood, smoothing the wrinkles from my linen shirt, my breathing even. My resting heart rate hadn’t spiked.

I had nothing to prove to him. That was the part he would never understand, and the part that would keep him awake.