She was the most delicate girl in town. Or at least, that's what they all thought. With her prim private school uniform, glossy ringlet curls and polite smile, she had them all fooled. Everyone except me. Noone knew her like I did though. Sharing a bedroom gives an unprecedented view into a person's inner psyche. I'm not just talking about dirty washing left on the floor and mugs growing mould, though that's gross enough. It's not even just the boys, or increasingly lately - men, she would shimmy down the drain pipe to meet. It's not even that her straight A's were bought from a mousy haired geek who noone even knew existed. It's much worse than that.

You see, this angelic damsel in distress is a killer. She killed with her bare hands. Ruthless, vindictive, evil. It wasn't anything as forgivable as self-defence, thought that's what she'd have you believe. A wannabe-rape gone awry. No. She planned and executed this. I know. I've seen the diary scribblings. Overheard her dreams. I know. She knows, I know and one of us is going to have to pay the price. For once, that ain't going to be me.