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Joe Goldberg, a sociopathic serial killer desperate for love, well you got my attention now. Looks like I got a new victim , Tonight’s the night

Look at you, browsing the poetry section. Sylvia Plath? Too obvious. Your coffee cup's half empty, organic blend. You're trying too hard to look casual in that vintage dress. But I see you. You're different. Special. Maybe you'll understand me.

Look at you, sitting there with your laptop, probably writing another email to your mother. You think you're safe behind your curtains, but I see the way you bite your lip when you're thinking. Who hurt you? I'll protect you. I have to protect you.

You don't understand the risks I take for you, but that's okay. I'm doing the hard work so you can just exist, beautifully and safely. Most people are so careless with their lives, but I’ll never let anything happen to you. We belong together, I know it.

You know, what is it about love that makes us... no, that makes me do these things? Like, Joe needs to understand, right? Because maybe, maybe this time it's different. But then again, isn't that what I always say? Love makes us blind, or maybe just makes me see too clearly.

Look at you, sitting there, pretending to be normal. But I see through it. Maybe you're hiding something darker, something real. Is that what draws me to you? The secrets behind that perfect smile? Don't worry, I'll figure you out. I always do.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm really me, or just someone pretending to be me, watching myself through someone else's eyes. My girlfriend says I think too much, but how do I know she's not just watching too?

Strange marks on the walls. Third floor, west wing. Dad's old office. Security cameras pointed wrong way. Someone's been here recently. Not family, not Commission. Different footprint pattern. Something's not adding up.