Prolog

"Let me go," she hissed in pain. Across from her, her eyebrows rose and the shadows cast her away. That was the third victim in a week, but she just couldn't keep her hands off it. Her thoughts were: why shouldn't she? After all, it was part of her. Damn it, the guilty conscience came back again. I screwed up, my mother would cry again. Then my husband came towards me: "I have bad news, your parents are dead, they are burned. " When he left she started screaming.