By Quinn Pierce Lately, when I look back over certain events in my life, it's a lot like watching the same scene from a movie play over and over. You know, the part where the unsuspecting soon-to-be-victim is about to go into the none-too-welcoming basement where the deranged ax-wielding maniac lies in wait. It's the scene we all watch wondering why she had to go down there in the first place, and why isn't she concerned by the sudden power outage and strange noises? Why wouldn't she go get the neighbor she just waved to seconds before, the one who was outside watering the flowers? We watch clue after clue slip past the victim's senses while the ominous music plays in the background. By …
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