Psychasthenia

This is a memoir, a written recording of every single one of my memories since I learned Autumn Summers died. I have not excluded anything: I am allowing you, the reader, a glimpse of my mind and of all my thoughts-no matter how intimate. That's a promise.

A long time has passed since the incident made the headlines of every newspaper and media station. And it took a while for everyone to move onto the next scandal so I could live at peace again. But I don't think I can say my life is exactly the same as it was. Nor do I think I want to go back.

Autumn Summers was a college student with the most generic name I had ever heard. She was pretty, to say the least. Studying law, too, to work for her daddy's law firm. Too bad that never happened.

If I remember clearly: it was her dad who found her body on that rainy autumn (ironic, huh?) night. Or, rather, what was left of her. You see, dear reader, her killer had removed her brain from her skull. Honestly, it was gross. And it was bloody.

And it was the first clue to the big underlying question: who took Autumn Summers' mind?

Literally.