The day after her eighteenth birthday, she was on her back in an expensive hotel room.
Legs wide apart.
Sweat glinting on her skin, limbs contorted, hands clenching the sheet as if it was a lifeline, and she was stranded in her own personal ocean of ecstasy.
Hair matted, eyes rolled back – teeth gritted tight.
That was how they found her, another victim of the maniac the press were calling The Medusa Killer.