I kept on waiting, wine glass in hand, watching the clock tick past the time of Nellie's supposed arrival. With each passing minute, my patience wore thin. Fifteen minutes turned into twenty, then twenty into thirty. What was meant to be a light buzz had grown stronger as half a glass of wine became two.

By the time Nellie finally arrived, my mood had completely soured. I stepped out and walked toward her white Range Rover Velar, parked in my driveway. As I approached, I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly chic she looked, as always. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, slightly tousled, framed her face, and the soft glow of the streetlight highlighted her sharp cheekbones and warm hazel eyes. She wore a sleek black leather jacket paired with a high-waisted, plaid skirt that fell just above her knees, showcasing her long legs.

I opened the passenger door and buckled up, an imminent sulk on my face.

She immediately began to offer a string of excuses, her voice laced with guilt. Before I could even process them, she grabbed my face and assaulted it with a bombardment of kisses as her way of apologizing. I pretended not to like it, but the small smile creeping up on my face said otherwise. We left the driveway and headed out, my sour mood partially lifted.

We arrived at Papa Eddie's, my favorite pizza joint in the city. I glanced over at Nellie, and she offered a knowing smile, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. She thoughtfully searched for a parking spot close to the entrance, making it easier for us to get inside quickly. With an undeniable bounce of excitement in my step, we headed toward the entrance.

As I pushed the door open, a soft chime rang out, signaling our arrival. The restaurant was warm and inviting. The smell of freshly baked pizza dough, coupled with the rich aroma of melted cheese, lingered in the air, causing my mouth to water.

We scanned the nearly full room until our eyes caught sight of two people waving us over enthusiastically from a booth at the far right. We made our way over to find Tammy and Rose, the last two members of our quartet. Although it had been a while since our last meeting, their appearances had only slightly changed. Tammy's slender figure was clad in a red sweetheart neckline dress, complementing her olive skin. Her auburn hair was let down in loose waves, highlighting her green eyes. Rose, the taller of us, stood out with her rich, deep brown skin that contrasted beautifully with her light-colored lace corseted top paired with bell-bottoms. Her dark brown eyes sparkled with her signature smile, showing off her pearly white teeth.

Our waitress was a mature woman with her hair pulled back into a bun, a few grey hairs escaping. She handed each of us a menu with a warm smile her laugh lines prominent, as her eyes crinkled. She smoothed her apron and waited, pen and notebook in hand. I order a new York style pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms. Nellie goes for margherita and Tammy and Rose both opt for the BBQ style pizza. We end our orders with our choice of drinks and wait for our food to arrive.

Our food arrives in no time and we spend our meal time eating and reminiscing on our high school days our conversation filled with laughter.

We arrive at the club around twelve-thirty a.m., the streets already lined with cars and no available parking space in sight. We drive for about three blocks before finally spotting an open spot. With no closer options, we decide to make do.
As I step out of the car, I fold my arms tightly against my chest, letting out a small shiver as the cold night air bites at my skin.

"Quit being a baby," Nellie says. "The walk isn't long, and it's not that cold."

I refrain from responding, instead turn to face her my eyes shooting daggers before taking the lead towards the club. Behind me, the sound of Tammy and Rose's laughter fills the air.

The club's entrance is bustling with activity, people standing in small, clustered groups. The neon-lit sign above the door casts a cascading glow. A small queue has formed at the entrance, where a bulky bouncer stands guard.

My ears are greeted by the sound of loud music as soon as we step inside. The chill I felt earlier is now overshadowed by the warmth radiating from the crowd of dancing, sweaty bodies. We head over to the VIP lounge, ready for a fun-filled night.

Before long, my full bladder demands attention, a reminder of the many drinks I've had. I politely excuse myself and head to the bathroom, phone in hand. I quickly take care of business and head out, only to find a slim-built young man with tousled black hair leaning against the wall in a graphic T-shirt and blue jeans. Upon closer inspection, I realize it's Ashton-Tammy's narcistic ex and abuser. The way his shoulders are planted against the wall suggests he's been waiting for a while.

He straightens up as soon as he notices me.

"Hey," he says.

"Are you looking for someone?" I ask, uninterested.

"I've been looking for a way to talk to you since you entered the club. You look stunning in that dress," he adds, his eyes raking over my frame.

"Of course I do," I retort, rolling my eyes. "What do you even want?"

"You," he replies simply. "I've always wanted you."

"You do remember I'm Tammy's friend, right?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Does that matter? he inquires. Come on, lets go for a quick drive and talk somewhere more private.

I quickly send a text to Nellie, feigning illness and telling her I'm heading home, then follow him, the alcohol in my system clouding my judgment.

We get into his car, the leather seats cold against my skin. As we pull out of the parking lot, Ashton starts talking. "Tammy's never really been my type," he begins, his tone dismissive. "She's so controlling and manipulative. Now, if only I had met you first, things would've been different. There's no way I would treat you like I did her. You're meant to be treated like a queen."

I close my eyes and sit still the though of how he casually speaks down on my friend making my body seethe with rage. I bite down on my tongue to refrain from speaking.

We drive in silence for a few minutes until the road narrows, leading us to a secluded lake. Ashton parks closer to the overgrowth, keeping his car hidden. I swing my right leg over him, straddling him. My hands move slowly up his chest, settling around his neck in a firm grip. Biting my lip, I use my free hand to recline his seat back.

"Shit," he murmurs in a low growl, his lips trailing kisses along my neck as his strong hands grab my ass.

Moaning, I discreetly slide my hand down toward my feet, slipping off my heels. In the blink of an eye, I ram one into his temple. Blinded by rage, I strike over and over until he stops struggling and goes limp.

When I finally come to, I take in the scene before me. A gaping wound mars his head, blood splattered across the car's interior. Although sloppy, it doesn't compare to the mess of my first kill. I sigh, inwardly scolding myself for letting my emotions get the best of me.

I grab some tissues from the dashboard and clean myself up as best I can. Stepping out of the car, I make my way around to the driver's side. I start the engine and carefully place his foot on the pedal. After slamming it shut, I step back and watch the car slowly drive into the lake until its fully submerged in the waters.