About Me

ASPIRING SUSPENSE AUTHOR | LITERARY SEEKER of GROWTH | BETA READER | PSYCHOLOGY and SUMMA CUM LAUDE GRADUATE | PSYCHOLOGY RESEARCH ASSISTANT | A FRIEND

 

She pushes you back into the grainy brick wall. That’s when you see the gun.

Your mouth dries. Air traps in your throat.

The gun mutes the world, then magnifies it. Water drips, drips, drips so loud from the gutter running down the corner of the building. A fly buzzes past. Blood pounds in your ears.

You gasp. “Please, Izzy.”

It sounds pathetic.

She raises the gun at your face. “Don’t try to run.”

That’s fine. You don’t want to move at all.

She presses the cold muzzle to your right ear. “You think this is a game? Why did you come back?”

Her real name’s Isabelle. A green tea and KDrama addict who slaughters little darlings as she plunges deeper into psychology and fiction. She’d admitted that. But you want to know every gruesome detail and how she gets away with such crime.

Izzy shoves the gun harder against your hot ear. “I asked you a question.”

She pulls the trigger.

You can’t scream.

Something smacks against the side of your head. A loud click fills your ear.

Your chest caves. You choke back a sob.

She cocks the gun and touches the cold steel to your right eye. “I even told you my favorite color.”

She pulls the trigger.

Another loud click.

You scream through gritted teeth.

“This is strike two.” She lowers the gun, cracks it open, and dumps out a bullet into her other palm. “I have a good thing going for me in this area, so let’s try to be cordial with each other from now on. Okay?”

You nod stiffly.

She pats your cheek, tucks the gun in the back of her jeans, and walks away. Just like that.

The world blurs before you in greens, blues, and reds. You take a few steps, but your knees buckle. Slamming your palm against the brick wall, you right yourself and breathe heavily.

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