Angie's chair met resistance. She tried to force it, but it wouldn’t budge. Standing in the space between her chair and desk, she slid her leg sideways and freed herself. She bent down, dislodging a shoe. “Damnit, Izzie!” She surveyed the room. Izzie hadn’t done a damned thing since they’d argued about her mess.

Angie pulled out a garbage bag and started tossing things; two coffee cups, two soda bottles, a muffin wrapper. She bent down to retrieve a pizza box from under Izzie’s bed, and something caught her attention.

“You’re invited!” the small card announced. “An experience to die for.” No address or time. An odd spiral of red ink spun out from the center. An invitation without specifics was useless. Angie shoved it in the bag.

Where was Izzie? Had Angie seen her since their fight? 

An envelope lay by the door. She hadn’t heard anyone with her music on. Angie picked it up. It bore her name.

Sliding her finger under the flap she felt a sting. The invitation was identical to Izzie’s but pure white. As she turned it over to look for information, the puncture on her finger bled spiraling as it spread. When the blood trail ceased, the room plunged into darkness. Sudden silence made her ears ring. The door creaked as it swung open and something grabbed her from behind. She couldn’t breathe. She lost consciousness, the invitation falling from her hand.

The words echoed in her head: An experience to die for.