Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(10)

She swallowed the knot in her throat, surprised by the emotions so easily conjured, spilling forth, as if it had all happened yesterday. Not a day had gone by in high school that she wasn’t pointed at, called names, and made fun of. One particular group of kids had been relentless in their taunting. The harder she had worked at becoming invisible, the more they had picked on her. Their actions had never made any sense to Jenny since she’d done nothing to earn their wrath.

She was the geek, the kid with no friends. All she wanted was to be left alone. The bullying had gotten so bad that there had come a point where she figured she deserved to be punished. Why wouldn’t she be made fun of? She was the poor girl who lived on a pig farm, the girl with crooked teeth and thick glasses. She was the oddball with the bangs chopped off at odd angles, the kid who wore hand-me-down clothes and flimsy shoes without laces.

The teachers were no better. They knew what was going on, but they never lifted a finger to help her in any way.

Some memories of what the other kids did to her were too painful to bring forth: recollections so awful, she kept them locked tight in her memory banks; things that made being kicked and shoved into a locker seem like child’s play; occurrences so horrifyingly humiliating and repulsive, she didn’t dare call them up. Not now. Not yet. Preferably never.

After college, and after she’d started earning a decent paycheck, she’d gotten braces, contacts, ridiculously expensive haircuts, and new clothes. Even before the mini-makeover, she’d possessed a decent body, but in the end none of it mattered. One thing she’d learned very quickly was that no amount of scrubbing and perfume could hide the fact that she would always be the poor girl from a pig farm.

Always had been.

Always would be.

Mirror, mirror on the wall . . . who’s the ugliest of them all? Jenny Pickett, that’s who.

She reached for the small canister, and this time she removed the lid. One tiny pill could end it all. Put her out of her misery forever.

For a moment in time, Jenny had thought things could be different. She’d thought hard work and success would show all her haters that she didn’t deserve their disdain.

But now she knew better.

All of those people who f*cked with you are the pigs, not you! Why can’t you see the truth? Don’t you dare take that pill!

Jenny clamped her hands over her ears.

Look at the list again. Don’t be a fool. They’re the ones who deserve to die!

She didn’t want to listen to the voice. She wanted to end her misery and be done with it.

Read the list, Jenny!

Jenny dropped her hands and forced herself to look at the names. This time, she read each one slowly, letting every syllable roll over her tongue. Each person on her list had done horrible things to her. It wasn’t her fault they did what they did. They had a choice. It was them, not her. The hatred and disgust she’d felt for herself had been misplaced.

The realization caused her to feel a hundred pounds lighter.

Why hadn’t she seen it before?

She put the lid back on the container and put the suicide pill away.

It’s about time you stood up for yourself. Maybe you’re not so spineless, after all.


Brandon Louis

Terri Kramer

Stephen White

Debi Murray

Gavin Murdock

Rachel Elliott

Melony Reed

Ron Jennings

Louise Penderfor

Mindy Graft

Aubrey Singleton

Claire Moss

Chelsea Webster

Dean Newman

Gary Perdue


After reading the names over and over, confident that these were the worst of the offenders, she sucked in a deep breath of air and then slowly exhaled.

This is your kill list. It’s beautiful.

Yes . . . her kill list. Each and every person on the list would die, but she would need to follow a set of rules:


a) be smart,

b) be patient, and

c) do not get caught.


Making the list had been easy. Now she needed to work things through and put some thought into how she would end their lives.

She’d gotten lucky with Brandon. He’d kept their relationship a well-guarded secret, which turned out to serve her well. He’d never shared his private numbers with her, always calling her from airport pay phones.

But in the end, stabbing him had proved to be quite messy. Cleaning up all that blood wasn’t easy. Getting rid of the rental car and Brandon’s body had taken the entire night. Lining the trunk of her car, driving to her parents’ farm, and then digging a hole in the middle of their fifty-acre parcel had been beyond exhausting.

How could she kill them without getting caught?

It can’t be that difficult. You’re a chemist.

She couldn’t exactly bury any more dead people on her parents’ farm. She needed to make the deaths appear to be random accidents. But how?

Do I have to repeat myself? You’re a chemist. Poison.

She straightened in her seat. It couldn’t possibly be that easy. She went to the wall of books lining the shelves and brushed her fingers over the spines: Organic Chemicals, Pharmacotherapy: A Pathophysiologic Approach, The Pharmacological Basis of Therapeutics, Handbook of Pharmaceutical Excipients, and—there it was. Toxicology: The Basic Science of Poisons. Perfect.





CHAPTER 8