1992 Friday July 2nd

No one understands. Most men think it's a joke. That we can get mad. Defend ourselves. Be the schemers. Never one for schemers. Nope Jack hated them. I was about to be one of them. Hell hath no fury like a women scorned. Jack, well he'd scorned me. He was about to go to hell and back for how he treated me.

A nurse came in and sedated me.

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2008 Saturday October 25th

When I woke up a extremely young man was standing over me. His slightly curly brown hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Miss Napier I'm Dr crane" He was checking a clipboard. Adjusting his glasses. "No Etheridge. Eleanor Etheridge" He scribbled out what I assumed was Napier. "Where am I?" My mouth was in agony.

"Arkham Asylum" I went to pull at my hair, a nervous twitch if you will. My arms just pulled, fabric cutting my wrists. "Why am I in a straight Jacket?"

He sighed "Miss Etheridge, May I call you Eleanor?" I glared "No" he scribbled more down. "The reason you're here is because you committed multiple violent and abhorrent murders. I'm not sure where you're from but here it classifies you as a Serial Killer"

"Sorry Dr Crane but I'm not sure that is a adequate classification. Serial Killer as defined by oxford dictionary is someone who murders more than three victims one at a time in a relatively short interval. Someone whose motivation for killing is usually based on psychological gratification. The crimes are often because of anger, thrill, financial gain, and attention seeking also usually involving some sexual excitement. The murders may have been attempted or completed in a similar fashion and the victims may have had something in common, for example, occupation, race, appearance, gender or age." I took a breath and took in his thoughtful look. "None of my murders where calculated or planned. More killing when the opportunity presented itself, maybe the only category I ticked was all my children were under the age of 10 other than that I can assure you I'm not a pedophile, there was no money, I'm not an angry person and wasn't attention seeking. I simple like killing children what's so wrong with that?"

"How bout Psychopathic or Mass Murderer or Schizophrenic... crazy" grinding my teeth "I am all those things but CRAZY" I yelled

"So I hear you were having a baby around the time you started killing" I had almost forgotten "Where's my baby? How long have I been here? WHERE IS HE?!"

"Shh Miss Etheridge let me assure YOU your daughter is safely out of harms way." I calmed myself "I was having a boy?"

"It was twins your son died." I didn't cry now, my memory was coming back clear. Jack left me. Who was Jack? Where was he? Did he have our daughter?

"Well our times up" he checked his watch " Have a nice day" He started to leave my cell.

"WAIT" he stopped just unlocking the door "yes?" I didn't know what I was asking "What year is it?"

"2008" he walked off, locking my cell. "I'm 28... shit"