As Mrs. Bud read, her eyes widened. Her mind raced with images depicted in the letter. Her hands began to shake. Tears came uncontrollably. After the letter was over, she fell to her knees and vomited. Mrs. Bud called the police and told them about the letter. She cleaned herself up and began to think.
It was her fault this happened. How could she let this happen? How could she be so foolish? Why did she trust? Mrs. Bud had been so willing to believe in people, now it has cost her. It was her own fault for trusting. She got up, went to the bathroom, and opened up the cabinet.
The police arrived to find Mrs. Bud dead. She had killed herself with an assortment of medications. They also found a letter. It read:
"My dear Mrs. Bud, On Sunday, June the third, I called on you at 406 W 15 St. Brought you pot cheese - strawberries. We had lunch. Grace sat in my lap and kissed me. I made up my mind. On the pretense of taking her to a party, you said yes she could go. I took her to an empty house in Westchester I had already picked out. When we got there, I told her to remain outside. She picked wildflowers. I went upstairs and stripped all of my clothes off. I knew that if I did not, I would get her blood on them. When all was ready, I went to the window and called her. Then I hid in a closet until she was in the room. When she saw me, she began to cry and tried to run. I grabbed her and she said she would tell her mamma. How did she kick - bite and scratch. I choked her to death, then cut her in small pieces so I could take my meat to my room, cook and eat it. It took me nine days to eat the entire body. I did not rape her tho I could have had I wished. She died a virgin."