My Killer

He is serving life for my murder. He confessed in January. I am still breathing. I type other people's worst days for a living. Ten years, four hundred courtrooms, and I have never once been the one on the record. Then the letters start - small things a stranger could not know, and then a date. October 17. The day I die. I trace them ninety minutes upstate, to Kettle River Correctional. The victim's name on his file is mine. He told them how he held me under, how long it took, what the water did to my lungs. So I file his appeal. And in a folder nobody has opened in a year, I find a sworn statement describing my own death - dated eleven months ago, in handwriting I have used since I was nine. I have never seen it before. "I already killed you, Nora. I'm asking you to let me get it wrong this time." A standalone dark romance with a guaranteed HEA, an epilogue, and an obsessed antihero who is never once redeemed of what he did. Content warnings inside.