[COMPLETED] A troubled woman becomes obsessed with hunting down a killer after reading his diary, but soon discovers she's the one being hunted.
Confessions from a murderer -- this is what Lucy Hanson uncovers after reading a journal she finds in a...
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"Dillon?" Lucy called out as she banged on the front door of Dillon's loft. She turned the knob of the door and realized it wasn't locked. Lucy slowly pushed the door open and walked in, leaving it slightly ajar.
"What the hell?" Lucy gasped. Dillon's artwork was strewn all over the floor. Remnants of pieces she knew he had worked so hard on were destroyed. Also on the floor was a bottle of whiskey, half full.
"Dillon, are you still here?" Lucy called out. She was tired, frustrated, and wanted to go back to Donna's but she didn't want to leave Dillon alone if he was having a relapse.
"Dillon, where are you?"
The loft was quiet. She thought about going upstairs but didn't feel comfortable climbing the stairs to where his bedroom was. She looked around and sighed. Maybe he wasn't there. She slowly started creating a pile of torn canvas and carried it to the corner of the bottom floor.
"Salutations my dear friend," a male voice from behind her said. Lucy shrieked in fear.
"Dillon, you scared me!"
She looked at Dillon and frowned. His glassy eyes focused on her and he gave her an evil smirk. "Salutations my dear friend."
The phrase sunk in and dread filled Lucy. She took a step back from Dillon's wobbling figure. He was coming towards her, a single sheet of paper in one hand and a knife in the other.
"What did you just say?" Lucy asked.
"Sound familiar? I bet it does," Dillon said angrily.
"What's wrong with you? How much have you had to drink?"
"How much have you had to drink?" Dillon mocked. "Don't pretend to care! You don't care! People like you don't care!" He was waving the knife around to accentuate his words.
"People like me?"
"Yeah, people without souls." Dillon took another step forward, forcing Lucy to take another step back.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe if you explain to me, I'll understand."
"No! You explain to me , Lucy. What were you doing there? What were you doing at the Forester estate?"
"The Forester estate?" Lucy gasped. How had Dillon known?
"Yeah, the Forester estate. I saw you. I saw you sneak out the window. You left a picture at my house."
"Is that what this is about? It was just a picture Dillon...wait. How did you know?" Lucy asked, fear lacing her words. She tried to look around her to see if she could spot any other possible weapons. She found none.
"Just a picture? Don't you know who that boy was?"
Lucy shook her head as a steady stream of fear filled her.
"It was me! That boy was me!"
"Why was your picture at the Forester estate Dillon? Did you know them?" Lucy asked, pretending to stay calm. She could feel her hands shaking.
