A familiar face was standing in that doorway with a small smile on her face. Her name leaped to my lips even as I struggled to remember how I knew her... ‘Sarah!’ I said, surprised. Sarah Haverstrom was the high school girlfriend that never was. I had first seen her at 7:30 in the morning in December, when she walked into first period English class and took a seat across the aisle from me. I’d liked her right from the start, more than I’d liked any girl before. She was pretty. She was smart. Come. Her prey was chosen, decided. And where? Her breath caught in her throat when he squeezed her arm suddenly, and she felt the exhalation of his breath against her small, pierced ear. ‘She’s here,’ he whispered, directing her gaze to a small blonde entering the bar. Her body was barely covered against the harshness of the February air. Her jeans were painted on, her breasts made by the hands of a crafted surgeon. Her heels were dangerously spiked, her lips deliciously fire engine red. She. More

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