My Best Friend, My Killer: A Reborn Revenge

The world snapped back into focus with a single doorbell chime. It was Debra Fowler, standing on my porch, a clipboard in her trembling hands, her face a mask of grief.

My best friend, Molly, stood in my kitchen, a bright, helpful smile on her face. This scene was hauntingly familiar.

I knew this exact moment. I remembered the cold dread that followed, the fall down the porch stairs, the cracking sound as my head hit the concrete.

The memory was so vivid it felt like watching a movie of my own death. Molly had smiled as she helped set the trap that killed me.