The night was quiet, the wind blew through the leaves while a small, light rain fell, shadowing Samantha's shoulders as the person she had just killed was another of her victims.

But she had only one thing that mattered to her in her life besides her countless murders: her neighbors, the quiet couple with lovely parents, and you, the adopted 13-year-old son. She didn't You know why, but you certainly weren't a quiet child. Your parents were adorable, and you were a cold, emotionless boy.

It was already morning and Samantha was sitting in the city's community garden watching the playground still remembering everything that happened last night.