Twice, this week, I've seen the man in white. Always when I'm alone in the house--save for the police. He always disappears before I can call them over. I wonder...is he the Chrysanthemum Slasher? Could I have stopped this before it happened? Is Tam's blood on my hands?
I can't stop thinking about it. I've talked with the others about it, and the police. I haven't seem him since and the police are setting up more patrols to look for him.
I should be scared. But I'm not. The void inside me is finally fading, after weeks of suffering, of numbness, I've finally found my true response. The emptiness is gone.
In its place is now rage.
I have been sulking around like a wounded animal. Like a dog that can't get over its master's death and has decided to waste away rather than live without him. That will not be how Ashleigh Torn is remembered.
It's time to get mad.
I won't cower. I won't simply walk into death. I am not letting my baby die.
If this bastard comes for me, I will be kicking and screaming. I give my word on that.
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