I didn’t run.
She lunged. I stabbed. The scissors went in just below her ribs—the place where, in fourth grade, she’d been stung by a wasp and I’d carried her to the nurse’s office. Black blood geysered. She didn’t scream. She sighed, like a tire letting out air. Jennifer--s Body -2009-
She blew on her nails. “Chip was a boy. And he tasted like insecurity and AXE body spray. Next question.” I didn’t run
She touched it, looked at the red on her fingertip, and licked it clean. “Am I?” That night, she showed up at my window. I didn’t hear the glass slide open. I just felt the cold. in fourth grade