You ask me…

You ask me if the lines have become blurred. If I have become what I write about. I will tell that yes, while my fingers stroke the keys that weave you a tale, I become the Abductor. While my fingers stroke the keys telling you of abduction, I become the abducted. While I weave you…

Baby, I was born this way.

I was born this way… Born how, do you say? Born with the innate desire to root for the villain in the story. Born with the need to study criminal behavior, the criminal mind, abduction, and all the dark behavioral patterns that go along with it. Born with the desire to keep the things I…

Authors are an odd breed…

Authors are an odd breed; they are riddled with voices in their head demanding attention. In an effort to quiet the ghosts lurking in their souls they release the words onto paper allowing them life; giving them room to breathe and grow…only to then be riddled with voices of insecurity…We are a tormented lot… ©Suzanne…