curled up like a cat on a chair. I don't sleep.

I'm in a small house, waiting for Tom and Alex Shaffer to show up. There was a murder in the house and the police have blocked off a room. I can't go in there, but I left my backpack in the room. I couple had been killed and mutilated in bathtubs, wrapped in gauze, their flesh and guts seeping through, wet with water and lifeless expressions.

When Tom and Alex got there, I was in pajamas, soaked with the water that was in the bathtubs of the dead couple. I didn't want him to see me.