Handfuls of Hair

 "Well you should be," Hannah continued, "I did it for you, now he won't stop us doing anything. He's gone. We can be friends again."

"We already were friends!" I tore my hands through my hair.


"Well you think we'll carry on being friends? You killed my brother." I hissed and hung up.

No doubt DNA tests of whatever it was the police did would lead to my best friend, ex-best friend. My mind could not even begin to comprehend the evil that had long been festering inside her head, and I had been the one to fuel it. Fear shook my body and I cringed against the wall, my parents were making funeral arrangement and I was home alone with a very angry, murderous ex-best friend. Could it get any worse?

Yes, it could. Upstairs, something crashed.

I froze. My blood seemed like it was made of lead and swelled in my feet as every muscle locked up, holding me still.

A footstep.

In an instant I was streaking to get to the front door, at the bottom of the stairs. Someone had beaten me to it. The blood roared back to my face.

"Hannah." I gasped

The End

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