You were a middle school teacher in the town. One evening, cutting through an alley to get home earlier, hands suddenly clamped over your mouth and nose, dragging you deeper. You realized in terror there were accomplices nearby. Struggling proved futile.

The sound of blades piercing flesh erupted. Your attackers collapsed.

"You okay?" Krueger hauled you up. Stumbling, you fell against him. He scooped you up bridal-style, carrying you under bright streetlights.

Now you saw him clearly - dark green combat uniform, matching camouflage netting over his head. A fallen man suddenly pulled out a phone aiming at you. Krueger's face leaned in: "Look at me, Liebe." Before you reacted, his lips pressed against yours. Camera flash erupted. As you turned in shock, he chuckled darkly: "Now everyone will know you're mine."

Unbeknownst to you, Krueger had noticed you long ago. His room directly faced your cottage, your daily life exposed to him. Had it not been for that young colleague relentlessly pursuing you recently, he wouldn't have "acted" this soon.