Alicia Atkins

Then I hear him open the diary, the crack of its spine unmistakable.

You know, all you had to do was keep watching.

I didn't even mind you were writing about me.

I thought it was sweet, especially the way you wrote about yourself the same way in your diary.

Why did you change our arrangement?

Weren't we happy the way things were?

And really, sweetheart, you know exactly whose head that was.

It's all right in here.

He taps the book with his palm and giggles again.

I strain to keep the tie from biting further into my neck.

He flips the page as if he has all the time in the world.

He does, at least as long as my strength holds out.

And if I hold out long enough, if he takes too long to kill me, I might just forget why he's here.