The date was November 3rd, 2020. The sun streamed in through the thin slats in the blinds. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the particles of dust brought out of hiding by the morning light. Casey Filmore's name and picture flashed up on the screen of every person watching WFMY News 2 for the seventh time that morning. Shoulder length, mousy brown hair, high cheekbones, and a smile plastered on her face that would be the last the world would see. Her pale green eyes were the only thing remarkable about her.

The news anchor stated that the girl had gone missing on Halloween night, during a severe thunderstorm. She had last been by her neighbor, Mrs. Grey, running back into her house after retrieving the candy bowl from her porch. The wind howled like rabid werewolves and thunder clashed like cymbals that night. And the lightning... the lightning had been enough to induce seizures across the county. The police suspected that the girl had been abducted by someone who knew her well. The news anchor also stated that further investigation was underway before some officer with doughnut glaze replacing the plasma in his blood started driveling about the case.

Mr. Harlan turned off the tv, silence filling the room, even if just for a few moments. He thought about the missing girl. He had known her. She didn't exactly view him as a close friend or try to pick out curtains with him, but they were familiar enough... familiar enough for him to know where she lived. Familiar enough for him to know she had no dogs to protect her. Familiar enough to know that she lived on her own and had horrible PTSD. Being the town pharmacist, one tends to learn a lot about people. With Casey, it was nothing personal. He had just learned that she was the easiest target, skinny and naive.

The silence in the room was broken by a faint thud and a muffled, high-pitched squeal. Mr. Harlan rolled his eyes and pulled down on the chord to open the attic. Ascending the shabby wooden stairs, he was immediately met with a gruesome sight. The bruised, dirty, and bloodied figure of Casey sat there, chained to the wall. She was screaming behind the dishrag he had tied around her mouth. Her eyes were wild and filled with tears. Her hair was matted. She whimpered as he removed the small square of cloth. "Please. Please just let me go. I won't tell anyone. I swear. Besides, I'm the town nut, the only one that isn't a veteran that has PTSD. Do you think they'd actually believe me if I did talk?" Mr. Harlan smiled and shook his head. He let his eyes caress her every inch. Her delicate ribs, which were now much more pronounced, heaved with fear, her smooth legs as close to her hip bones as possible. The perfect canvas, he thought as he reached for his knife.