I stared at the door trying to build up the courage to open it and go inside. Exhaling softly, I tried to shake off the fear of what happened the last time I had been in the room. It was like facing the darkest moments of your life that you would leave scars so deep they were with you for the rest of your days.

Jack had already gone to bed. He was still mad that I had effectively accused his best friend of being the serial killer we were hunting. I shook the guilt off. I could not allow prejudices to sway what I felt.

Maybe it was crazy but when someone was murdered the first people they usually investigated were those close to the victims. Was it such a stretch to entertain the idea that maybe the killer was someone we knew. I had no tangible proof. The only evidence lay in my memories. The ones I couldn’t remember.

Before I allowed the fear to lead me back my room, I opened the door trying to make as little noise as possible.

Once inside I switched on the light and closed the door as quietly as possible before I changed my mind like a coward and went back to my room. I didn’t immediately turn around, I needed a minute to build myself up to be brave enough to turn and face the devastation the killer had left in his needful path.

I didn’t want to wake Jack. Having him around in the mood he was in would not help me and I was determined to remember something. Anything that could lead me to the killer. There was a part of me that was tired of being the victim. He had taken enough from me, I would not allow him to take more. If I didn’t do something I would just be a sitting duck waiting for him to find me and take what he had failed to take three years ago.

I took a inhaled a long breath before I turned.

The sight of the photos of bloodied bodies made me gasp and I smothered any further sound with my hands over my mouth. The pictures made me the same pain as when I discovered Alice. Her lifeless body in a pool of her own blood.

I could smell the metallic specific to blood as I stepped closer. It was like I was encompassing myself in the memory, the deeper I walked into the room. Surrounding me, was every victim who had lost their life to the same man. The same killer who had taken my best friend’s life.

The pain in my chest throbbed. It was fear, grief and everything I had lost bundled so tightly together there was no separating them.

I made a point to inhale feeling like I was on the verge panicking but if I allowed that to happen Jack would show up and take over. If that happened I might not get another chance. There was so much riding on this, even if I had no idea if it would work. This was something I had to do, if I didn’t it would cost my life and the others that would fall after me.

I hadn’t felt very brave over the last few years, unable to face the world I found myself in. There was something about the note, about my gut feeling that it had to do with someone close to home I had somehow found the strength to try and do what I had not been able to face.

The sight of the bodies and blood would have weakened me but I refused to allow fear to stop me.

Like the feeling that I had that it was someone close, I had that same feeling that the answers I needed would be found in here, in awakening memories buried deep.

The fact I couldn’t remember had shielded me and stirring up the past would change everything. I knew the gravity of what I was about to do. I just hoped I would be able to remember details that would lead me to the killer. Whoever it was.

I went to the first picture and studied it. It was horrible and made me sick to my stomach but I had to be brave. I had to remind myself that this could stop the killing. I was saving myself and any future victims. If I didn’t stop him, who would? How long would it take law enforcement to figure out who it is?

Too long.

Alice’s breathing that night echoed in my mind as I studied one picture at a time, hoping it would shake something free. Something other than the darkness, the fear and death.

I tried to focus solely on each picture hoping something would just happen but after going through almost half the wall nothing happened. While there were still plenty of pictures to look at, I was becoming disheartened as I moved from one picture to another.

I couldn’t remember anything new. It was frustrating and a feeling of hopelessness. Inhaling deeply, I held the breath. Closing my eyes I tried to concentrate.

There was darkness, so thick it filled my lungs making it more difficult to breath. A whimper.

I knew it was Alice. The person that I remembered with laughing eyes and so much life had been replaced by her unseeing eyes and bloodied face.

A gurgling.

It hurt, like a knife deep in my chest. Lodged so deep it could never be removed. The survivor in me wanted me to stop, knowing that

Then I heard it. Deep in the caverns of my mind. A footstep. A heavy footstep. A wooden creak. The stairs.

I wanted to grasp not the memory with two both hands and never let it go. I could smell the damp in the air. Then the blood. It was a smell you never forgot.

But the only thing I could see was the darkness.

I stood still hoping to hear or see something. The footsteps disappeared up the stairs, getting further away. The door opened and then shut.

There was nothing else. It went silent and when I opened my eyes I was back in the room filled with photos of all of his victims and I still have no idea who he was.

I wanted to yell in frustration. It was the closest I had been but not close enough. I rubbed my forehead, feeling too much and not being capable to working through each one.

Exhaling, I counted to four and then stopped before I drew in another breath until I got to four. Then I held my breath hoping to ease the turmoil inside.

I exhaled.

The door opened, suddenly. My heart smacked against my chest.

I turned to face a half asleep Jack the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He was only dressed in sweats. The light making his hair lighter than usual, making him look so much younger. His eyes moved from me to the all the evidence pinned to the wall.

My heart was beating so rapidly it was hard to breathe.

I had made an effort to keep as quiet as possible. How on earth had I woken him up?

“I saw the light.”

I clasped my hands together, kinda of feeling like I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t have.

I gave a one armed shrug. “I wanted to remember.”

He moved into the room to stand in front of me. “I know this is important but doing it this way…could be too traumatizing.”

“Being hunted by a serial killer is traumatizing. This…” I pointed at the pictures. “This is…this is me trying to figure out who he is.”

There had to be a way to be a way to set my deeply suppressed memories free.

I turned to face the wall and he stood beside me, watching me. I could feel his eyes on me.

He didn’t seem as angry as he had been before. He had obviously had time to cool off.

“There has to be a way,” I murmured softly. “I feel like it’s right there. Just within reach but I can’t seem to grapple with it, you know?”

“We could try a hypnotist?”

I gave Jack a long side look. “You think that will work?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. It’s worth a try.”