Finals Week

A snarl of frustration broke the library's studious silence. Tracee didn't look up until someone kicked her chair.

"I'm not on the stress relief list," she glared at her classmate.

The punch made her ears ring.

"Don't remember asking, slut."

Before she could argue his hands were around her throat and her body bucking in her chair as she clawed against his grip.

Her face darkened, mind spinning - this wasn't supposed to happen, her life was supposed to be worth more than easing his finals stress. . .

Her drumming heels slowed and stopped as she gurgled her death rattle.