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an excerpt

There was no way to run—Tara had picked the corner between the wall and the potted plant, and the gun the woman had was staring right into Tara’s eyes, which began to fill up with tears from sheer panic.

“Oh God, please, no, I didn’t do anything, please, my father,” she said, whimpering and gesturing idiotically towards her father’s corpse outside, half-aware of how asinine she sounded as she begged.

The woman stepped towards her and lowered her gun, a strange grin on her face that Tara had never seen before. “You came here to see your father?”

Tara nodded, as tears began to slip down her cheeks, and she felt herself turning red from the shame of acting so emotionally.

“You’re probably such a good girl, aren’t you? Coming to see your father at work.” The woman lifted up Tara’s chin to look at her using the nozzle of her gun, still a touch warm from the bullet which had sped from it moments ago. “Yeah, I’ll bet you’re a good little girl, always doing her chores, going to school, getting a nice university degree…”

Not knowing how to respond, Tara nodded again feebly. “UW Tacoma. Please, miss…”

She laughed raucously at that. “You even call me ‘miss.’ You should be saying, ‘I hate you, bitch, for killing me,’ but instead you say ‘please.’ So polite and well-mannered. Any boy would be proud to show you to his parents and friends.”

She put away her gun, and Tara’s knees began to sag in relief, but they locked again when the woman unsheathed her knife. She reached over the body of the security guard in between them to lean her hand next to Tara’s face, her knife in the other, and she whispered, “I’m sorry, miss, but you just got on my wrong side today.” The tip of her knife was chill against Tara’s cheek and ignited cold sweat all over her body. “I’d like to hear you scream.”