There had been three murders in the last month. Three girls, all underage. Just like me. Red hair, small stature, just like me. Can you retrace me? I am the victim.

Boys never seemed to like me a lot. Sure, I had some guy friends, but the only guys that ever showed some sort of romantic interest in me, were creeps no other girls talked to. Can you retrace me? That I was suspicious when my friend's brother suddendly was all over me?

He took me out for dinner. A true gentlemen. Made me laugh. A very charismatic guy. But I read that psychopaths often are very charisamatic. Can you retrace me? That I was suspicious anyways?

After our fifth date, he wanted to drive me home, but we parked by a bridge and he wanted to make a walk. It was night and far away from any civilisation. But I told myself not to worry too much. He could have killed you already if he wanted to, I told myself. I followed him. Can you retrace me? I was defenseless, alone, a weak little girl.

My aunt investigated by herself as she was one of the journalists that wrote about the case. She told me every girl had the same necklace. Stainless steel, a pink quartz. That he choked them with it until they fainted and then kidnapped them, according to the police. Can you retrace me? That I got nervous when he pulled out a gift, small enough to contain a necklace?

So when he leaned in I pulled him by the collar and pushed him off the bridge. Can you retrace me? I was afraid. Alone. At night.

After this, I felt relieved. Like I had done the right thing. There had not been another way to escape my safe death. He was so tall and strong. But I defeated him. He would never kill a girl again. I didn't just save my own life, but these of countless other girls. I am sure you can retrace me.

The police asked me when I had seen him the last time. I said that he dropped me at my house and left. I was good at lying because I knew that I did it for a reason. It wouldn't be right if I'd be charged for preventing a lot of senseless deaths.
I am sure you can retrace me.

I wasn't afraid anymore. I felt like a warrior. Fighting against the crime, an antihero, like Batman.
I am sure you can retrace me.

What a shock it was when they found the corpse if a redhaired eighteen-year-old a few weeks later. She wore a necklace with a pink quartz, that had left a deep mark on her throat. Her guts were stuffed in her gorge.

How ironic. I had thought that my friend's brother was a crazy killer, but I was crazy all along. And now I was a killer too.