Don't Call Me Crazy.i'm A Survivor. I

Being A Homicide Detective Ca Be The Loneliest Job In The World. The Friends Of The Victim Are Upset And In Despair, But Sooner Or Later - After Weeks Or Months - They Go Back To Their Everyday Lives. For The Closest Family It Takes Longer, But For The Most Part, To Some Degree, They Too Get Over The Grieving And Despair. Life Has To Go On; It Does Go On. But The Unsolved Murders Keep Gnawing Away And In The End There's Only One Person Left Who Thinks Night And Day About The Victim: It's The Office Who Is Left With The Investigation.

It Did No Good To Cry, She Had Learned That Early On. She Had Also Learned That Every Time She Tried To Make Someone Aware Of Something In Her Life, The Situation Just Got Worse. Consequently It Was Up To Her To Solve Her Problems By Herself, Using Whatever Methods She Deemed Necessary.

When I Find The Motherfucker Who Tortured An Innocent Cat To Death Just To Send Us A Warning, I'm Going To Clobber Him With A Baseball Bat

-who Knows About This? -just Me, The Police, The Killer, And Now You.

You Walk Around Feeling Like A Teenager And Immortal Your Whole Life, And Suddenly There Isn't Much Time Left.