Knock. Knock.

Knock. Knock.


“I’m coming!” I shouted as I raced to answer the door, only to find my boyfriend, Alex Collins, standing on the doorstep.


“We have to leave town.” He states,


“Hello to you too,”


“I’m serious.”


I roll my eyes, “Okay, I’ll grab my stuff.”


As I’m about to walk upstairs, I overhear a news reporter say, “We are sad to report that Alex Collins, 19, was found dead an hour ago...”


A shiver runs down my spine as I turn back to Alex. If the news reporter said Alex is dead, then who is standing on my doorstep?

 

by Ellie S Fiander 

 


 

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