Cruel Intensions: Being Inside the Mind of a Young Serial Killer

Hannah sat in a chair in a corner of her bedroom. She was wide awake again. In the nine long nights that had passed since Josh had disappeared, she had forgotten what it was like to sleep deeply and peacefully. Maybe she didn't want- didn't deserve- the relief of sleep.

A tremor shook her and she curled herself more tightly into the chair, wrapping her arms around her legs. She didn't want the doubts that away at her mind. All she wanted was to close her eyes and make it all go away.

Instead when she closed her eyes, she saw Josh.

He was alive expressionless. He didn't speak. He showed no sign of recognizing or even seeing her. He simply stood there. There was a bruise on his right cheek. He wore a stripped pajama that she had never seen before.

Hannah's heart raced out of control. She wanted to touch him, but she couldn't move her arms. She tried calling out to him but no sound came out. She wanted him to look at her but he looks through her, as if she were not there. Frustration built and built until she screamed and screamed.

She jerked in her chair and realized that she had fallen asleep for nearly an hour.

The bed was empty. Paul hasn't come home yet.

The phone rang and she dove for it. "Paul? Paul?"

Silence answered her.

She sank down onto the floor leaning against the wall.

"Paul?" she tries again.

No answer.