Alrighty then! I have a confession to make about this one. I wrote it the day after I wrote the last one. And it was because my internet was down at the time. I'm so sorry I didn't post sooner. I have no excuse. Seriously. I was just on another site writing posts. Nothing else. I am a bad story-writer. Poor Sam. Having to go through this without a resolution so long.

–ducks more rocks- Throw rocks and you won't get cookies! -ducks tomatoes- OR POPCORN!

Sam POV

I felt my jaw go slack from shock when I saw who the laughing man was. His mouth was twisted into an ugly sneer, but he still looked a lot like I remembered him. Except for the happy demeanour. There was no remaining trace of that. My observations came out in a whisper.

"Darryl…you're…a-alive." What came out of his mouth next could probably be best described as a cackle.

"It certainly looks that way, doesn't it Samantha?" He spat out my name like it left a bad taste in his mouth. I still couldn't get over the fact that he was alive. The whole town had been sure he had died in the raging forest fire in a nearby canyon. He had been reported to have gone in there. The forest was charred to a crisp afterwards. Bones had even been found. It had been the first story I had had as a full-fledged journalist. But I couldn't help but wonder why he was behind the torture case. And why he wasn't dead after all.

"W-what happened? And w-why would you do this?" He smirked at me, walking over. I had to look up to see him, and I had a feeling that was just the way he liked it. This was not the boy I had goofed off with as a teenager.

"To what are you referring, Samantha? I've done so many things since the stealing of cars. Since I knew you, I've been locked away. Did you hear that gem or did my parents cover it up really well? That forest fire was incredibly real." He pulled up a sleeve of his red and black plaid work-shirt to reveal a series of large burn scars.

"Most of the skin on my other arm had to be replaced. This one wasn't so bad. The fire was there, and I started it. I can even tell you how I did it. It isn't like you'll live to tell anyone I'm an ex-con or that I lit up a whole forest." He laughed, sending shivers down my spine. He took my life so lightly. I was extremely nervous. I listened despite the blood now soaking down my pant-legs from the cuts they had given me.

"I suppose this is the time of the murder where I lay my cards on the table. No-one knows you're here, so I have nothing to fear. You on the other hand, have everything to fear, Samantha." He spat my name once again. Then he continued the story he seemed so intent on telling. I supposed he figured he was a genius who wanted to share the knowledge. It made me unspeakably nervous to know how confident he was that his plan would succeed.

"I poured gas all over. The grass was so dry it lit up like tinder. A little too well. I was faking my death, not trying to really die. To get the skin on my other arm sightly again, you wouldn't believe how much I had to pay a blackmarket surgeon to repair my burns. I didn't want anyone blabbing of course. I had to pay him a lot to shut up about it. Yes, I've gone to a lot of trouble for you, Samantha. Do hope you appreciate it." I was immediately confused. What? He had lost me. Darryl must have seen the look on my face because he chuckled. It sounded a bit like the Darryl from my teenage years. If I had closed my eyes, I might even have believed it was him. No such luck though. This Darryl all grown up was all too real.

"Trouble? For me? What?"

"You're funny, Samantha. My goal was always to get revenge on you. When I found out you were a full-fledged journalist, I knew exactly what to do. I protected my identity, hired these thugs. They're professionals, but they have no criminal records. They're that good. I hired another guy with a neighbourhood boy face so that it wouldn't look so suspicious him buying supplies in places in town. Then I had a girl, just a tourist, trapped out here." He shone a light into a dark corner and my stomach turned. Blood. Heaps of blood.

"Carved some stuff into her skin. She went unconscious while we were doing it. Then we just dumped her somewhere conspicuous so we were sure the cops could find her. We wanted her to be found. A newspaper article written to gain notoriety. So that people would try to find out who the killer was." He laughed, and I couldn't believe my eyes. How could this be the same guy I had grown up with? He took human life so…so lightly. It horrified me. And when he said about the first victim going unconscious, my eyes flared with anger.

"She wasn't unconscious when you dumped her there. She died from shock while you were carving her!" Bill almost gave me another kick for yelling at Darryl, but Darryl held him back. Maybe he wanted to do that himself. I knew the girl had died from the injuries because there were signs that the injuries were ante-mortem. I saw the policewoman's eyes shoot open at the revelation of having the killer before her. We had already known the girl was dumped. The liver mortis had been on the wrong side of the body for her to have been killed the way she had laid. Liver mortis was when the blood settled on the downwards side of a body post-mortem, I had learned at the time. But we hadn't known where she was killed. Until now. But Darryl had started talking again.

"Then low and behold a newspaper article was being written about us. We had hoped you would come around to investigate. Instead, a different nosy reporter kept getting closer and closer. I sent my boys to shut her up, but it didn't go as planned. The neighbours saw, and they got more violent with her. I didn't mean for her to die. She didn't need to die for the plan to work. But I found out she died later. Shame that." The voice had little remorse, if at all. Josie…Josie hadn't needed to die. Neither of the victims had needed to die. The policewoman didn't need to die. I didn't need to die. But by Darryl's twisted thinking, we had all needed to die except for Josie. My head was reeling. What would this monster I had once known as a teen do or say next?

Yes indeed. What WILL he say next?

Jake: I didn't get a part this time. Why?

Me: Have you even READ the chapter, Jake?

Jake: No…why? Should I?

Me: Not technically, but you'll know at the end why you didn't get a part here.

Jake: -stalks off-

Me: -sighs- So hard to be an author with unruly characters.