It's the day, or better yet, the morning of the murder. Cindy had been pacing around the room since four when the first light started illuminating the outside, sleep proving a foreign concept considering the circumstances. How on Earth did she get from being killed by her new husband on their wedding night, to coming back to life and all the way to planning his murder? And with the help of the person she considered her arch nemesis, nonetheless?
She pinched herself so many times that anyone could think she had been in a fight with a flight of stairs and lost.
If she was being honest, Cindy's biggest fear right now was not having it in her to take someone's life. And she wanted, she needed, to be able to do that. It had become something primal, an urge coming from so deep inside her, that
