This was not how I imagined I would die. Not that I spent a lot of time thinking about death but…this was definitely not how I thought it would end. My body felt like it was on fire. The pounding in my head had gone from merely irritating to excruciating. Another flash of pain shot up my spine – straight into my brain. My back arched against the cold concrete. I clawed at my skin.
I could hear a familiar voice calling my name, yelling for me to get up. Someone else was screaming.
Get away from her! Get up! Please! Get up! Blair!
Blair – that was my name. Blair Mallory. I was sixteen years old. I lived with my dad and worked in his comic book store. My favourite colour was yellow, I had a cat named Scratch, I was allergic to chocolate…and I was going to die.