The press had been barraging her with calls and emails, looking for exclusives from one of the few survivors of the massacre on Harper’s Island.
She understood the fascination, and as a writer, she could even understand the allure of such events from a storytelling perspective.
It was a bizarre tale with twists no one would expect and an ending straight out of a movie.
The problem was, it wasn’t some story to her - it was her life and the victims were people she cared about.
She wasn’t sure she would ever find the right words to explain away what she had witnessed on that island.
She found herself feeling like those idiots she used to mock when she saw clips of them on TV: neighbors who could only ever say how nice and quiet so-and-so was,
and certainly it couldn’t have been him with five girls locked in his basement.
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