Prologue

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On a dark, isolated street, abandoned and quiet, was a woman jogging. She was all alone, with the excemption her shadow that follows her as a companion.

"This is not good," her face was sweating, not because she is wearing a thick, dark brown coat, but because of weariness and guilt. She wouldn't admit it out loud that she was regretful of whatever she did, but she knew to herself she had done wrong. Not once, but many times.

" This is the fifth time. FIFTH time," she hissed bitterly. She wished to get away from the area, as soon as possible. She would walk away like nothing happened. She would be quiet and get back to her job selling dream catchers and old wood carving for ghostly beliefs and tradition. It was as if this madness never happened to her.

Again and again and again.

When she believes she had finally left the perimeter, she sat on the sidewalk, underneath a street light unbottoning the coat to get some air within her. The evening wind once felt nice to her skin when she was young, but now it only gives her sad memories of the past. Bitter memories of the past.

No, I won't go back. Not anymore. I have to keep moving forward.

She pulled out a small, leather bounded, pocket size notebook, with pages poorly stitched to it, making it look as if it was forcefully ripped apart before carelessly being glued and stappled back together. She pulled a pen out and wrote various name on a page. Each page has a picture of a person, all of them are adults. A tiny picture fell. A picture of two kids smiling, a boy was holding a beach ball bigger than his torso, and what seems to be an older girl, with a book of astrology in her arms.

The mystery woman frowned and pushed the book pack into its pages. "Justin Andrews and his wife, Lisa Andrews," the woman wrote. "The fifth victim. Along with their best friend Steve Liu and Annabeth McDollan."

She snapped the book close and wrapped it around with its leather lock, before turning around to leave the place where she sat, as if nothing happened.

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