You're Not Supposed to Die Tonight

by Kalynn Bayron

“You know what, Kyle? You’re absolutely right.”

I quietly slip the knife from my pocket and stick it into Kyle’s abdomen, just below his ribs on the right side.

Kyle’s eyes grow wide. A gurgle erupts from his throat as he staggers back, clutching at his stomach.

from side to side. I approach him slowly, still gripping the knife, a white-hot rage coursing through me like electricity.

The light fades from his eyes as his corpse bobs in the shallows.

planks under someone’s weight. The shuffle of footsteps. I keep my eyes closed. The footsteps come closer, stepping off the wooden pier and

shuffling across the rocks until they’re right in front of me. I lift my chin and open my eyes. “Charity.”