The Boyfriend

by Freida McFadden

And I’m terrified that the moment I get her alone, I will wrap my fingers around her pretty, white neck and squeeze the life out of her.

I wonder what it’s like to cut into a person with a scalpel. To feel their skin separate under my hand. To see their insides.

Truth be told, I’ve only kissed a girl once, and I didn’t even want to do it. She kissed me. Except the only people who know about that are me and her. And now just me.

She’s so delicate. I’m not a big guy, but she’s a lot smaller than I am. If I grabbed her head and gave it a solid twist to the left, I could break her neck.

Daisy would be so easy to kill. It would barely even be a challenge.

It’s only after I get home that I realize Tom never gave me back my bloody shirt.

I mean, he must have read up about it. There’s no way he could have known all that off the top of his head.

I wonder what Daisy’s blood would look like spilling out of her throat.

“Let me in right now! I swear to God, Daisy, you better not hurt her.”