The Inmate

by Freida McFadden

I’m going to die. My beloved snowflake necklace—the one I have worn every day for the last seven years—is cutting off my oxygen supply. Strong fingers are pulling it tight, closing off my windpipe as I gasp for air. “Please…” I try to form the words but I have no air. He’s going to kill me. Tim is going to kill me with the necklace he bought me for my tenth birthday. The irony of it. Except then I catch up with a whiff of something. Something in the air. A familiar scent close to me, coming from the guy holding me down. Sandalwood. Shane’s aftershave. It’s not Tim after all. Tim is the one lying dead on the floor. Shane is the one holding me down, trying to choke me to death. Shane is the one who had the opportunity to plan this. To get rid of all the knives and weapons in his house except for the knife used to stab Brandon and Kayla—and now Tim—to death. But he’s chosen a different end for me. “Shane,” I try to choke out.