It is a delicate process, going about being numb. One cannot just wake up and decide to be devoid of all feelings; no, there must be some driving force. No matter how small.

You’re curious as to my motives; you think that with time, I’ll open up and spill my murdering guts. But I don’t plan on being here long, so you’re out of luck.

Forget what you know about psychology. Forget about the connection we’re supposed to have, you and I as women. No one can save me, because I don’t want to be saved.

My time here is limited; that means yours is, too. I’m an opportunistic killer, you see. I spring at any and every possibilty. A killer, down to my frozen core.

And what’s your driving force?, you ask?

You’ll find out when my gun is pressed to your forehead.