Pitch (Death Day)

by Jillian Eaton

  “Don’t scream,” Vivi whispers before she melts into the shadows and disappears behind an overturned display of potato chips.

  Don’t scream. Maybe it is the one promise I will be able to keep.

  I crack my knuckles. Roll my neck until I hear it pop. Pluck the dagger out of my belt and hold it lightly in my right hand. Without looking back, I step out to meet my fate.