Too Late, My Betrayer: Now I Shine

scount supermarket, weighing two packages of ground turkey, my medical school dreams sixty days past due. Then, a diamond necklace, shape

kitchen table, eating instant ramen, complaining about server costs. Now, his "strict landlord" Mr. Miller was chauffeuring this we

starburst pendant. My body went numb, the crushing sadness replaced by a terrifying, abso

a single, chilling command: "Tear his life do

pte

Vanc

e numb from the chill of the open freezer, but I kept weighing them in my hands. I was calculating the price per ounce in my head.

he screen. It was another warning email from my loan servicer. My medical school debt was sixty days past due.

ut the package that cost fifty cents more back into the very

d of expensive high heels hitting cheap linoleum was completely out of place in a

e rich, floral scent completely overpowered the harsh sm

trench coat that probably cost more than my rent for the entire year. She was holdin

at the price tag, she grabbed a bottle of red wine that I knew cost t

ce dripping with an exaggerated pout. "I cannot believe you j

ith me to give her space. I learned early on in my life t

let out a high-pitch

me. Her eyes dragged up and down my faded, oversized puffer j

ehind her ear. The harsh fluorescent lights of the supermarket bounced off her wrist, nea

t her wrist. My gaze

aped like an asymmetrical starburst. My heart stopped beating for a ful

ical school library, I sketched that exact asymmetrical starb

thy, triumphant laugh escaping her red

d from my numb fingers. It hit the

ce of trash that had blown in from the street. She turned on h

han was sitting at our wobbly kitchen table, wearing a sweater with holes in the cuffs,

tomer. I moved like a machine. I walked to the register, pulled o

icago snowstorm hit me right in the face. The wind cut thro

directly in the handicap spot right outside the doors. Th

ck suit stepped out of the driver's seat and opened the rear door for her. S

oor, he turned his head slightly. Th

man who pounded on our basement door every month, screaming at Natha

assive tires hit a puddle of slush, spraying fre

shaking so violently I could barely pull my gloves off.

on the woman's phone screen when she lowered it. The network connection was te

scrolled through a grid of pure, unfiltered

s a close-up selfie. I put two fingers on the screen and zoome

rburst diamond necklace, engraved into th

loser. That was a monste