PROLOGUE

 Opening of Next On Her List

You try to catch your breath as you stare out from behind the newspaper stand at the busy crowd. Sweat pours down your face.

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You think you’re being followed.

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You know you made a big mistake; now you’re in trouble. One thing’s for sure: this is going to end badly.

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You rush out into the middle of the concourse. You look around, checking ahead and behind. You sense danger close at hand. 

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You speed up. You become more reckless. You change course, nearly colliding with a child. The mother yells after you.

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There’s a flight of stairs ahead. You head for them. You run up them, panting. Your pulse isn’t just high; it’s off the scale. Each step is a mountain to climb. Each step harder than the last. You keep going – but you can’t keep this up for much longer.

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Near the top, you run out of breath. You grab the railing. You clutch at your chest. Too late, you remember your pills. You fumble in your pocket. You find the bottle – but you’re shaking so much you can’t get the lid off.

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Only seconds left to get your pills.

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Someone brushes past. Knocks the bottle from your hand. You watch it bounce down the steps. Out of reach forever.

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Your face contorts. Your body convulses. Your eyes bulge. You tumble down the steps, landing near the bottom. After a moment you are perfectly still.

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A passer-by screams when she sees your dead eyes staring up.

That’s how it must have been – something like that, anyway. But we’ll never know for sure, will we? You’ve taken all that with you to the grave.