"Oh my god," Krystal screamed, "you have Marilyn Manson's newest CD! I've been dieing to hear it!"
Monica gripped the wheel tightly, steadying herself, narrowly missing a tree. Gasping, she brought the Mustang level once again and slowly pulled to the side of the road. Shaking, she parked the car and closed her eyes tightly.
"Why are we stopping, Monica?" Krystal whined, "I want to get home and take a hot bath, soak my aching foot. Come on, let's get going."
Monica tried to stop trembling, willed her body to respond. Doesn't she realize how close we came to an accident, she thought, that we could've been killed? Can't she ever think about anyone, other then herself? Clenching her hands into tight fists, she turned to face Krystal.
"Shut up Krystal," she quietly said, "just shut your pathetic, self-centered mouth. Me, me, me! Is that all you ever think about?" Jerking the door handle, Monica almost fell out of her car, so anxious to put some space between Krystal and herself. She began pacing the length of her car.
Krystal's jaw opened, listening to Monica's tirade. She pursed her lips, watching Monica's movements, the short jerky strides. How dare she speak to me like that, she thought, her eyes narrowing to mere slits. With all I've been through tonight. Who the hell does she think she is?
Monica took another deep breath, releasing it with a strong shuddering sigh, before climbing back into her car. She refused to look at Krystal. No way she'd permit herself to feel any pity for her. No way she'd allow herself to be caught unawares by the feigned look of hurt feelings Krystal could be counted on showing.
"I would advise," Monica quietly stated, "you to keep your mouth shut for the rest of the drive." She turned to stare directly into Krystal's eyes before continuing. "Otherwise, I won't be responsible for my actions. Is that clear?"
***
Monica drove in silence. Still shaken by their near mishap, she didn't feel sorry in the least for her harsh comments to Krystal. She deserved it, and more, she thought, the spoiled brat. Poor little rich bitch. Yeah, right.
Krystal stared straight ahead. Fuming over Monica's cruel comments. This had turned into one shitty night. I don't deserve this treatment, she thought, first that loser Jason, and now this little nothing bitch. Well, she won't get away with it, that's for sure.
Monica flipped her right turn signal on as she neared Krystal's street. She usually hated to end her time with Krystal, but tonight she was glad to be dropping her off. She couldn't wait until Krystal was out of her car, out of her life. Monica slowly eased her car to the curb, not bothering to pull into the driveway. There wasn't any need, she knew she wouldn't be long.
"I just want you to know one thing," Krystal said, her tone cold. "No one talks to me like that, and gets away with it. No one."
Monica chewed on her bottom lip, wincing unconsciously from the harsh tone. Sighing, she turned towards Krystal. She couldn't stay mad at her. Krystal was her best friend. She had to apologize.
She barely noticed Krystal's movement. Didn't pay any attention to the flash of silver. All she saw was the hatred gleaming in Krystal's eyes. Pure, cold hatred.
Monica could hear a strange bubbling, gurgling sound. Why is Krystal grinning like that, she wondered. She felt the hot wetness spreading across her chest, before the realization of Krystal's actions hit her.
With sudden clarity, Monica realized her throat had been cut. My god, she tried to kill me, she thought, reaching to place the car in drive. I have to get out of here, have to get help.
Her arm felt like lead. She opened her mouth to scream. To call for help. Only a hoarse whisper came out.
Krystal's laughter was the last sound she heard.