It was a blistering hot Thursday in the town of Paragould, Arkansas. I stood face to face with a woman who I had been tracking down for over a week. I knew everything about her life. I understood that she had divorced her husband of ten years four weeks ago. I knew that in her early childhood she had been sexually abused. I also knew that in the past three weeks she had murdered three men in cold blood.
` “Brent, where are you? Why did you leave headquarters?” the voice snapped into my ear.
I was trying to figure out how to calmly talk her down. I knew if I called for backup that she would run and I could lose a dangerous serial killer.
“Brent? Brent? Brent do you copy?”
    
     Two Weeks Earlier
We had just stepped off the jet in which the FBI had sent us in. We examined our surroundings for a brief moment. Bright blue sky, shops running up and down what seemed to be the main road through town, and a sign that proudly stated in bright red, “Paragould.”
My team knew the drill though. There was no time to admire the town, but only time to get into the pitch black SUV’s that were there to escort us to the police station.
“We have a room cleared out for you in the back where you can set your stuff and get to work,” Chief Logan stated.
“Thank you,” said Katelynn as we set up all of the utilities that we needed.
Our killer was moving fast and if we didn’t catch her it would cost the lives of many men.
“Thank you for having us here even though we wish it was under different circumstances,” Ross said with a frown catching onto every word he spoke. “As you know I am a behavioral analyst, or profiler for the FBI. We are here to help you narrow down who your killer might be.”
“There have been two so far,” Katelynn jumped in. “because there was no money stolen these were obviously not failed robberies.”
“We expect the killer to be about 35 based on the way her killings have stayed basically the same meaning that she isn’t young enough to have her mind developing new ways to kill,” I told them.
The room went dead silent.
“Sir?” one of the officers asked.
“Yes?”
He opened his mouth but seemed he couldn’t find the words to say what he wanted. It took him a moment but he finally spoke the question to me, “If I’m not mistaken you said that the killer was a she?”
Ross jumped in, “Yes he did. We want to inform you that because of the way these victims were sexually tortured we believe the killer is a woman who has recently suffered the loss of a husband or boyfriend, and she might have been sexually abused when she was younger.”    
“So you’re telling me that because of some educated guesses we should believe what you say?” one brave cop asked.
“No sir I’m not. We have all had bad profiles in the past, but considering the information presented this is what we present you,” Ross stated with rage.

              Present
I now knew that the profile was right. Hannah had long blonde hair and was still wearing her wedding ring. She had turned psychotic and I was face to face with her.
“Hannah, my name is Brent and I’m just here to help you.”
“All you men are the same. You take women as a prize and merely dump them into the streets, break their hearts, and reject them just to watch.”
“Hannah the men you have had in your life haven’t met the expectations you needed and I get that. Men have been horrible to you but I need you to put the knife down before someone else ends up hurt.”
“You don’t understand and you never will!”
I screamed as she took he knife and dragged the rugged, sick edge across her neck. The thick rec blood began to stain the carpet on which she stood.
Now the race was on to find Jack.

            Yesterday
We had narrowed the killer down. Yes. We were close. We knew the killer was Hannah Gates, but we didn’t yet know how to approach it.
Not only thirty minutes before had we just received news that a man had been taken.
Jack Bryant had been reported missing only two hours ago. We couldn’t figure out where Hannah lived because her ex-husband had his name on all the leases for the house and in the past four weeks she had used no credit cards.
Suddenly the thought popped in to my head, “Hannah had been sexually abused when she was younger by her dad. If I was a killer sacrificing men would I not sacrifice them at the alter of where it all started?”
I then left headquarters in a flash racing to save not just Jack, but Hannah too.

                 Present
I could here his screams. Jack was yelling for help but I couldn’t find him. The screams were haunting me, making my insides turn upside down and making the hairs on my body stand up.
“Where are you!”
“Help, please!”
“Where are you!”
I could feel my heart racing. The screams had made their way into my brain and I suddenly doubted I would ever find Jack.
“Jack! Tell me where you a-“
I didn’t get to finish the sentence because in that moment I felt it. Hollow ground! I ran to Hannah’s cold, lifeless body and grabbed the same knife that not ten minutes ago had taken the life of Hannah and began to strike with all my weight at the hollow floor.

     Twenty Minutes Later
The screams still haunted me. We had saved him from the girl but they couldn’t save me. I had no hope for the screams have taken over my mind. They tell me to go home and I will because the screams now control me and I can only fight to live another day. If I don’t fight the screams will over run me then it will be over. Save Me!