Rewrite My Death Night
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Summary
The night of high school graduation was supposed to be a beginning. Instead, for me, it was a haunting encore.
The notification pinged on our class GroupMe at 7:00 PM. Madison Prescott, our resident "it-girl," had posted a neon-drenched flyer.
"We’re finally eighteen. Who’s still playing the good little student?" she’d typed, followed by a string of cocktail and devil emojis. "Tonight, we have a real rite of passage. Drinks, mystery boxes, a taste of the real adult world. No parents, no rules."
