“Stand up,” he told me, and I obeyed because apparently that’s what your body does when someone’s waving a g*n at you. Someone who’s just shot another woman not ten feet away from where you are.
I stood up.
“Come here,” he told me.
So I did.
“What’s your name?”
It’s funny because as he was asking me all these questions, I could only think about one thing. Kennedy will be traumatized if she has to watch me die. Of course, any and every one of us on that flight were already traumatized. You don’t have to know a murder victim to feel terrified in a situation like this.
Kennedy will be traumatized if she has to watch me die.But my mind was on Kennedy. On how goodie-goodie she always was, and look where it got her. On a doomed flight, forced to watch while her blue-haired roommate got e
