I suppose that I could tell you my name. But then I would have to kill you. Ha, just kidding. Maybe. The name plate on my desk reads "Luciana Shaw". But I often wonder who I really am, since I am not simply Eden Morris, a girl who manages computers and information specialists. No, I'm the unknown figure who's splashed across the newspaper headlines and breaking news reports of New York City. I'm the infamous serial killer, who for three years has been painting blood across the city, leaving no trace of herself for police to have any leads.
These are killings that have no rhyme or reason, and I'm not really trying to send any message. There is a sickness in my mind that I've had for my whole life. At first it was confusing and hard to deal with, as the urges were uncontrollable. No, I didn
