I told myself the worst part about dying is being afraid of dying.

If I'm not afraid, it won't be so bad.

I got a call asking me if I knew where she was.

There was a young female, appeared to be in her early 20s.

She had been sexually assaulted and dumped here.

The appearance of police officers is never a good sign.

Where was I the night before?

When did I last see her?

I already thought he could be our killer.

Her body had been propped up on to the bed.

Even at long forcement, they felt, what do we have on our hands here?

This monster is walking free while they're wasting their time on me.

He's got me by the throat and he's shaking me.

You're a prisoner in this apartment.

Yes.

Two people had to die in order for someone to believe me.

Looking back now, this woman almost didn't make it.

I said, if you keep doing this, you're going to kill me.

And you just said, do you think I actually care about that?

Is that when you feel like you're looking in the face of evil?

I knew then completely in that moment that he intended on killing me.

Little did she know that in this college town, she wasn't the only one.

...