The Tenant

by Freida McFadden

And for the first time, I understand my predecessor. Because I wouldn’t mind if this glass broke and sent me plummeting to my death 350 feet below.

They shake hands, but a split second after their palms make contact, Quillizabeth yanks her hand away as if she’s been scalded. She stumbles back, her hands trembling.

“He’s going to kill you,” the older woman blurts out. “Blake is going to kill you, Krista. You have to get away from here.”

“He’s going to stab you with a kitchen knife.” Quillizabeth points a shaky finger at the rug beneath our feet. “It’s going to happen right here. I saw a vision of him crouching over your body, watching you bleed to death.”

“I’ve never done anything to make you distrust me,” I point out. And that’s true. Well, as far as she knows.

Except… Why does this voice in the back of my head keep telling me to get rid of her right now, while I still can?