“She has a knife in her drawer,” the random email said.

I didn’t question it. I stood up and bolted towards the door.

“Hey,” Carey yelled, “Will you grab me a coffee from the lounge.”

“Um, sure, ya, no problem,” I said trying to sound like I didn’t think I was about to get killed.

But I had no intention of coming back. Ever.

And I wasn’t about to go home either. I was just going to run.