Colourful textiles hang from the painted walls and the occasional Tibetian prayer flag can be spotted in between. The uneven lampions, they have created together one rainy afternoon, hang in messy criss-cross patterns along the low ceiling. 

Happy, long-forgotten memories are brought back at the sight of the organised mess that is Katie's living room, and the usual hideout for their little group of friends. This room has always been inviting, and warm and it is no different today, no matter how long she has stayed away from it, fearing she hasn't been sane enough to face the people who would have noticed.

But it doesn't matter anymore. She will never abandon herself again in self-pity for being victimized by the world. After all, it has been her own actions that have brought her to where she is today. If she would have stayed true to herself, things would surely be different.

She can feel the confidence in herself returning for having grabbed the steering wheel of her life again. She might not be in control of what happens around her, but she certainly is in control of her reaction to it.

Nobody can take that away from her. Not the people who pay her. And not even the Key Killer.

"Wanna drag?"

Katie's blissful eyes hover over to Zoe's scrunched form on the red couch, lifting her hand in an offer to her friend.

"Might as well," The blonde responds with a cheeky smile on her face.

For the first time in months, she allows herself a deep inhale from the impeccably rolled joint underneath her nose. Katie is, by far, the biggest stoner she knows and Zoe usually shares her friend's love for the medicinal herb. When also a lot less often. But today she wants company and self-medication, so she has swung herself on her ragged bicycle and headed straight for the little condo in Jonestown. Not too far from her own home which she still refuses to think about.

"So," Katie plunges her tiny body into the cushions on the other side of the couch, eyeing her friend expectantly, "do you want to talk about it?"

Zoe fakes innocence in a terribly executed way. The other woman raises an eyebrow at her whilst playing subconsciously with the thick dreadlock reaching her lap. Even herself wonders why she hasn't talked about last night, or the last months for that matter, to anyone yet. 

Is she ashamed for having to admit that she has lost her way, and herself? That she is, indeed, afraid of the repercussions of her choices? That maybe not even her friends will believe her about the Key Killer?

A big, freeing sigh later, she lets go of her worries and decides to spill the beans with the risk of being judged 'high as fuck'.

________

"Shut up, man!" Wide chocolate eyes gaze up into hers in amazed horror as she finishes her retelling of the night's dramatic event. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this alone, Zoe." Katie touches her arm softly in comfort.

I've almost forgotten how good it feels to be cared for, she thinks.

She has spent so much time on her own, that she tends to forget about the emotions following alongside social relationships. It surely is hard to shoulder her burdens all by herself, but that is how she has come into the world and that is how she has to leave it. By herself.

"I think I still haven't come to terms with what happened," the second spliff of the night wanders back to Katie's eager hands and Zoe exhales a cloud of smoke, "it feels like I am in some giant bubble of refusal about the severity of the situation, you know?"

One side of Katie's cracked lips quirks up as she scans the beautiful woman in front of her, who has just spent the last forty minutes letting her into the deepest pits of her mind. She sees the transformation Zoe has begun and she couldn't be happier for her friend. Even during Zoe's absence, she has read her estranged column with great worry for her friend's state of mind.

With every print, she has seen more of a stranger. And less of Zoe.

From the first meeting, she has been incredibly fond of Zoe. Their paths have kept crossing and the two young women couldn't have helped but grow closer. 

Katie believes that there is much she can learn from the natural and open-minded independent sitting across from her, but right now, she is extremely worried about her friend's safety and state of mind. The news about the Key Killer on the loose has shocked everybody she knows, but to have Zoe in his direct line of sight is another matter altogether. She trusts Zoe's perception of who she has seen and her own intuition confirms that her friend is right. 

Damn it.

"Will you stay with me? Actually, never mind," she stops herself, "It's not a question."

Zoe's cheeks rise into a broad smile, deeply grateful for her friend's offer. Out of habit, she is about to decline with an excuse when she realizes, nothing is keeping her from accepting. And she really wants to.

"That would be wonderful, Katie. It's been a while since we had a sleepover, hey?" she says with guilt forming in the back of her mind. She can't help it.

She has blown off her friends, time and time again. Too occupied for their usual craft-er-noon hangouts, when they would jam or paint together, forgetting that worries do exist. She has abandoned herself in a sea of self-loath and solitude, and eventually, there were no more incoming messages to ignore. No more pleading undertakings to get her to join. Always an excuse at the ready. But enough of this. 

Now, she just wants to be in the moment and, best of all, share it with someone else.

"Well, if the police are being dicks about it, we should talk to Luce and Dom about staying with you to give you at least some form of protection," ponders the brunette, mentioning two male members of their group which Zoe hasn't talked to in forever. She would love to see the guys, but not like that.

"No, Katie. I can see what you are doing and I really appreciate it, you have no idea," her words are soaked in acknowledgement and deep appreciation, "but this is entirely on me. I won't allow anyone into the crossfire."

The dreadhead tightens her eyes to slits and opens her mouth in protest, but Zoe is quicker.

"I know this is an out-of-the-ordinary-type situation and it requires to be taken seriously, but that's what I am doing. I'm facing the music only I can hear," her serious expression changes to a cheeky grin, "all you can do is watch me dance."

Katie giggles and Zoe knows, her wonderful friend understands. Dreadlocks flying wildly, she, surprisingly energetically, jumps up, grabbing the blueish painted guitar in the process. As she begins to slam a fast-paced Mexican song out of it, Zoe follows close behind, swinging her invisible sombrero.

They stay up till late, doing whatever comes to mind. Once their physical energies subside, they begin to milk each other's mentality, debating Katie's psychology studies and the possible workings of the Key Killer before the women pass out on the furry carpet. The blonde is already beginning to snore when the brown eyes of her friend scan her one last time sleepily, sending a silent prayer to any god who might be listening.

Please. Let her make the right choice.

________

Zoe awakes with an aggressive jolt and a dry mouth. The weed might have helped to escape her nagging worries, but her dreams she cannot.

Instead of the usual shadow, she has seen a man. Indistinguishable. But a man, nonetheless. Thanks to the smoke, she remembers nothing but feeling the cold metal of his mask on her fingertips, and the paint.

So much paint.

She has dreamed about the serial killer before without surprise, after all, she has spent countless hours studying his cases and has become eerily familiar with the image she has created about him internally. But this dream has been different, telling her gut unmistakeably something horrible is going to happen.

Shaking off her negative thoughts as best as she can, she steps into her friend's messy kitchen, trying to find a clean glass which proves to be slightly more difficult than having been expected. After an unsuccessful search, she uses her hands to drink straight from the tap. The cold liquid instantly sates her choking thirst, but also returns that uncomfortable gut feeling.

With a note glued to the door telling her friend 'adios amigo', she climbs onto her loyal bicycle and takes off in the direction of her village. Her balance is a bit shaky, and she cannot help but giggle about her own clumsiness.

The occasional pickup passes her as she makes her way through the tranquil forests of the South. The cold moulds her exposed fingers around the handles, but the lightweight feeling accompanying Zoe has her flying on clouds. Popping to the weekly market on her way back, she collects some fresh produce and flour. As usual, there is not much traffic between the stalls and everything runs at its normal mid-week pace within the sleepy village from which the farm isn't all too far.

For the first time in a while, Zoe feels really good about herself. As if the changes she has made have lifted all weight off her shoulders and she feels ready to take on a new day, a new set of challenges. As if on cue, her eyes catch the newspaper vendor at the corner and the smile falls off her face.

The Morning Herald.

Yep, she has kind of forgotten about the ultimatum she has given to Steve. She has gained new readers for the paper and knows she is a valuable asset to the team, but that cannot promise her anything. Only when she pulls the familiar newspaper off the stand and folds, mentally preparing for unemployment, to page two, her heart warms inside her chest and the smile returns to her muscles. 

Word for word, they have printed it. Not a single edit, no twisting of her words.

Just a whole lot of Zoe.

The middle-aged vendor returns her beaming smile with a seemingly knowing one as he takes her coins with an outstretched hand.

If she wouldn't be living in the country, the man would probably believe her joyful exterior to be caused by a lover. But since she is living here, in a town consisting of 87% Christians and 100% gossip, everybody knows the critical journalist who has a thing or two to print about religion. Oh, and that she certainly doesn't keep 'lovers'.

Her moment of triumph gets swiftly interrupted by the thought of the Key Killer seeing her lines and whether he is going to like what he reads.

Zoe's mind blanks. Has she really just wondered if the key killer would 'like what he reads'? And if not? Why should she care?

Her dry humour returns just in time to save her from mentally slaughtering herself.

At least now, she will die for something she believes in.

______

It reads,

'Good and Evil, by Zoe Stromgrad

There are many factors that can affect how an individual views a conduct or an act as good or evil. It is rooted deeply in how one is brought up and how one is influenced by its environment. Although some follow the wrong path in the eyes of the world, many chose to stay on the right because it is what is acceptable.

But how can one tell if what one does or chooses is the right or the wrong thing?

How does one distinguish between the both?

Let's suppose Sophie was told by her parents not to eat any cookies from the cookie jar, but she really wanted to have one. Sophie may decide not to take a cookie because she will get into trouble. But what if she is very hungry? Would it still be wrong to have a cookie? Would disobeying the rule be acceptable in this case?

Children's thinking is based on the results of their actions and the way these actions affect them. The outcome is more important than the intention. A behaviour is either judged as good or evil only in terms of consequences, with no room for negotiation or compromise.

Eating one cookie from the jar because a child is hungry is just as wrong as stealing all the cookies from the jar by a naughty child. Taking cookies is forbidden and therefore always wrong, regardless of intention.

But as one develops and matures, one moves to a higher level of morality.

Appreciation of morality changes as a result of one's newly acquired ability to view situations from other people's perspectives. One is, therefore, also capable of considering rules from someone else's point of view. Moral rules are not perceived as being absolute anymore. Instead, the older one gets, one realizes that rules are socially agreed-upon guidelines, designed to benefit the species and adjustable.

One begins to understand that the motives behind actions are as important as consequences. One's choice to follow the rules is no longer based on the fear of negative outcomes but on a more complex moral reasoning. One recognizes that there is no absolute right or wrong and that morality depends on intentions rather than consequences.

Let's suppose Tom was taught by laws not to kill Jim, but he really wanted to. Tom may decide not to kill Jim because he will get into trouble. But what if Jim is raping children with the justice system turning a blind eye? Would it still be wrong to kill him? Would disobeying the rule be acceptable in this case?

It is a fine line between right and wrong.

So how can one judge one's actions as good or evil if one is not being told the entire story?'