When the search party from Olympic National Park in Washington State found Samantha Meyers on the morning of July 26th, 2007, they initially thought she was dead.

The woman was tied to the trunk of a massive Douglas fur tree with ropes around her wrists and ankles, her head hanging down on her chest, her body motionless.

Ranger Tom Henderson was the first to run up and check her pulse on her neck with trembling fingers.

There was a pulse, weak and irregular, but there was one.

Samantha was alive.

Barely, but alive.

When they untied her and laid her on a stretcher, she opened her eyes, looked at the ranger, and whispered one word in a horse voice.

Mask.

Then she lost consciousness.

The ambulance doctors worked on her all the way to the hospital, 45 minutes along mountain roads, fighting for every heartbeat.

Samantha Meyers, 28 years old, a tourist from Seattle, had gone missing 10 days ago on July 16th during a solo hike on the Ho Rainforest Trail.

Hundreds of people, dogs, and helicopters searched for her, but found nothing.

All the while, she was 3 km from the main trail in a cave that even experienced park rangers didn’t know about.

10 days in the hands of a masked man who tortured her, raped her, and left her tied to a tree to die.

The man was never found.

The story began on July 16th, 2007 on a hot summer morning in Seattle.

Samantha Meyers worked as a nurse at the Swedish Medical Center, a stressful job with 12-hour shifts, night shifts, and constant stress.

She took two weeks off, her first vacation in a year and a half, and decided to spend it in nature, far from the city, hospitals, and people.

She had loved hiking since she was a teenager, and went regularly, usually with friends.

But this time, she decided to go alone.

She wanted silence, solitude, and time to think about life.

I chose Olympic National Park on the Olympic Peninsula in northwestern Washington.

One of the most beautiful and wild parks in the United States.

It covers an area of about 3,700 km with dense rainforests, mountain peaks, and isolated valleys.

It is popular with tourists, but large enough that you can escape the crowds on remote trails.

Samantha planned to hike the Ho Rainforest Trail, a moderately difficult route of about 30 km round trip designed to take 3 days.

It starts at the Hawk Visitor Center, runs along the Hawk River through a rainforest with huge mosscovered trees, and ends at the glacier on Mount Olympus.

Samantha planned to walk to the base camp at the glacier, spend two nights there, and return.

On the morning of July 16th, Samantha loaded her backpack into her Honda Civic, said goodbye to her roommate Jennifer Cole, with whom she had lived for two years, and said she would be back on the evening of the 19th.

Jennifer wished her luck and asked her to call when she arrived.

Samantha promised she would, even though she knew there would be no cell phone reception deep in the forest.

She arrived at the Ho Visitor Center around noon, about a 3-hour drive from Seattle.

She registered with the ranger, a mandatory procedure for all tourists going to remote areas of the park.

She indicated her route, the number of days, and her expected return date.

The ranger, an elderly man named Robert Stevens, warned her that rain was expected on the route tomorrow evening, and advised her to take extra warm clothes and check her tent.

Samantha nodded, saying she was ready and had extensive hiking experience.

Stevens asked if she was going alone.

Samantha confirmed.

Stevens frowned and said that it was not recommended to go alone to such remote areas, that it was safer with a partner or a group.

Samantha replied that she understood the risks, but felt comfortable alone, had experience and equipment, and knew how to behave when encountering bears and other dangers.

Stevens reluctantly agreed, issued a permit, and wished her a safe trip.

Samantha began her ascent at noon.

The weather was clear and hot, around 25°, unusual for this part of Washington, where it is usually cool and rainy even in summer.

The trail wound through a rainforest of tall Douglas furs, Sitka spruces, western red cedars, trunks covered with thick moss, and waist high ferns.

The silence was broken only by the cries of birds and the sound of the river in the distance.

Samantha walked at a good pace, about 4 km per hour, planning to reach the first campsite marked on the map about 10 km from the start by evening.

She stopped several times to rest, drink water, and snack on energy bars.

She met several other hikers walking in the opposite direction, greeted them, and exchanged a few words about the weather and the trail.

By in the evening, she reached the campsite, a small clearing by the river with several marked tent sites, a wooden toilet, and a place for a campfire.

The campsite was empty.

No one else was there.

Samantha chose a spot at the edge of the clearing under a large cedar tree, pitched her tent, laid out her sleeping bag, and cooked dinner on a portable gas burner, freeze-dried pasta with vegetables and tea.

She ate while watching the sunset through the treetops and wrote in the journal she always kept on her hikes.

The entry from July 16th found later in her backpack was ordinary.

A description of the route, the beauty of the forest, the tiredness in her legs, plans for the next day.

It ended with the words, “I feel calm for the first time in months.

The silence of the forest is healing.

Tomorrow I will reach base camp.

I can’t wait to see the glacier.

She went to bed around in the evening when it got dark.

The forest was full of sounds at night.

Rustling, cracking branches, owls hooting, coyotes howling in the distance.

But Samantha was used to it.

She wasn’t afraid, and she fell asleep quickly.

She woke up around in the morning to a noise.

Something was moving outside the tent.

Heavy footsteps, the crunch of branches.

Her heart began to beat faster.

Her first thought was a bear.

Bears are common in the Olympics.

Black bears, not aggressive, but dangerous if caught off guard or if they have cubs.

Samantha lay still, listening.

The footsteps were getting closer, circling the tent slowly, cautiously.

Too cautiously for a bear.

Bears moved noisily, breaking branches, snorting.

This was something else.

Samantha reached for the flashlight lying next to her sleeping bag, turned it on, and pointed it at the wall of the tent.

The light caught a silhouette outside, a human silhouette, tall, broad- shouldered, standing a meter away from the tent.

Samantha froze.

The person outside also froze.

They stood like that for about 10 seconds.

Then Samantha shouted, “Who’s there?” Her voice trembled despite her attempts to control it.

There was no answer.

The silhouette began to move, circling the tent.

Samantha shouted louder, “Go away.

I have pepper spray.

I’ll call for help.” It was a bluff.

There was no cell phone reception here, and the nearest people were kilome away.

The silhouette stopped at the entrance to the tent.

Samantha could hear heavy, slow breathing outside.

Then the tent zipper began to unzip from the outside.

Slowly, one sound after another.

Samantha screamed, grabbed the pepper spray, and held it at the ready.

The zipper unzipped completely, and the entrance swung open.

In the doorway stood a figure in dark clothing, face covered by a mask, some kind of homemade mask made of fabric with slits for the eyes.

In his hand was a flashlight pointed at Samantha’s face, blinding her.

The figure was silent.

Samantha sprayed the pepper spray, aiming for the face.

The spray hit its target, and the figure recoiled, coughing, but did not retreat.

It took a step forward, grabbed Samantha’s hand with the spray can, twisted it, and the can fell to the ground.

Samantha tried to hit, scratch, and scream.

The figure was stronger, much stronger.

pinned her to the ground and covered her mouth with a hand.

Samantha could smell sweat, dirt, and something chemical.

She tried to bite the hand covering her mouth, but couldn’t.

The figure leaned closer and whispered horarssely.

“Be quiet.

Don’t scream.

It will hurt if you resist.” The voice was male, low, with a neutral American accent.

The man tied Samantha’s hands behind her back with a rough, prickly rope.

then her legs.

He taped her mouth shut with duct tape.

Samantha breathed through her nose frantically, quickly, feeling like she couldn’t get enough air.

The man picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her away.

Samantha saw the world upside down, the ground, the trees, the night sky.

She tried to remember the direction to count the steps, but her consciousness was clouded by fear and lack of oxygen.

He carried her for a long time, maybe half an hour, maybe an hour.

It was hard to tell.

Through the forest, off the trail, through thick undergrowth, across streams, up the hill.

Samantha felt branches hitting her legs and back.

Finally, the man stopped and put her down on the ground.

Samantha lay there trying to figure out where she was.

It was dark, and the man’s flashlight illuminated only a narrow circle.

The ground beneath her was damp and cold.

It smelled of mold and dampness.

The man untied Samantha’s legs, lifted her up, and dragged her somewhere.

She stumbled, unable to see the path as he dragged her along forcefully.

Then he bent her head sharply, and they passed through a narrow passageway with walls on both sides made of wet, cold stone.

A cave.

Inside, the man threw Samantha onto the floor, which was made of stone and covered with dirt and leaves.

She hit her shoulder and groaned into the tape.

The man turned on a kerosene lamp, and a dim yellow light filled the space.

The cave was small, about 5×5 m, with a low ceiling about 2 m high and uneven, damp walls.

A fire smoldered in the corner next to a pile of firewood.

Against the other wall were a sleeping bag, a backpack, tin cans, and trash.

Samantha realized that this was not a random attack.

The man lived here in the cave in the middle of the forest.

He had prepared this place.

He had been waiting.

The man stood over her, looking through his mask.

The mask was made of black fabric, possibly an old t-shirt tied around his head with uneven torn slits for the eyes.

His eyes were dark, impossible to distinguish in the dim light.

His clothes were dirty jeans, a dark sweatshirt, and worn hiking boots.

The man sat down next to her and said quietly, “Don’t resist.

Don’t scream, and it will be easier.

Resist and it will hurt.

It will hurt a lot.

I’m in charge here.

You’ll stay here as long as I decide.” Samantha breathed rapidly through her nose, trying to calm down and think.

Her hands were tied behind her back, the rope cutting into her wrists.

Her mouth was taped shut, making it difficult to breathe.

Her legs were free, but the man was stronger, and there was nowhere to run.

The cave was somewhere in the forest, far from the trail, and no one knew where.

No one would come.

The man began to undress her.

Samantha tried to resist, wriggling and kicking her legs.

He punched her hard in the stomach, and she doubled over in pain, losing her breath.

While she was trying to catch her breath, he cut her t-shirt, pants, and underwear with a knife.

He left her naked on the cold stone floor.

He raped her there on the cave floor by the light of a kerosene lamp in silence, broken only by her moans of pain through the tape and his heavy breathing.

It lasted forever.

Maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour.

When he finished, he got dressed, sat down by the fire, and looked at her.

He said, “Rest.

We’ll continue tomorrow.” Samantha lay on the stone, shivering from the cold, pain, and shock.

Tears ran down her cheeks, soaking the tape.

She thought about home, about Jennifer, about work, about the life she had yesterday, and which now seemed unreal.

She wondered if she would live to see the morning.

The man lay down in his sleeping bag against the opposite wall and turned off the lamp.

It was pitch black.

Samantha could hear him breathing, steady and calm, as if nothing had happened, as if it were just a normal night in the woods.

Morning began when the man lit the lamp again.

Samantha had not slept all night, lying there, trying to move her fingers to keep the blood circulating in her bound hands.

The man approached and tore the tape off her mouth.

Samantha screamed, her voice hoarse, but loud.

The man slapped her across the face with his palm hard.

Her head jerked back, the taste of blood in her mouth.

He said, “You can scream.

No one will hear you, but I don’t like noise.

I’ll shut you up again.” He gave her water from a plastic bottle, and Samantha drank greedily, not realizing how much time had passed since she last drank.

He gave her a piece of bread, dry and stale.

Samantha ate, realizing that she needed strength to survive.

To wait for an opportunity to escape, the man began to ask questions.

What was her name? Where was she from? Who knew she was here? When would they start looking for her? Samantha was silent at first, but he hit her again harder and repeated the questions.

She told the truth, hoping that if he knew she would be looked for, he might let her go.

She said she had registered with the ranger, that her neighbor was expecting her back on the 19th, that if she didn’t return, they would raise the alarm and look for her.

The man smiled and said they would start looking, but they wouldn’t find her.

No one knows about this cave.

I found it by accident 3 years ago.

The trail is 3 km away.

There are no traces left.

The rain will wash them away.

They usually search along the route within a radius of a kilometer or two.

They won’t come here.

We have time.

Samantha asked in a trembling voice.

Time for what? The man replied.

For whatever I want.

You’re mine here.

You understand? I’ll do whatever I want with you, as much as I want.

Then I’ll see what to do with you.

The next few days were hell.

Samantha lost track of time.

Didn’t know if it was day or night.

The cave was always in semi darkness.

Only the light of the lamp that the man lit when he wanted.

He raped her several times a day.

Sometimes tying her up, sometimes untying her hands, but holding her hair so she couldn’t resist.

He beat her when she tried to resist, broke her fingers when she scratched him, burned her skin with cigarette butts when she screamed.

He fed her once a day canned food, bread, water, the bare minimum to keep her alive.

The toilet was in the corner of the cave, a hole dug in the ground covered with a stone.

The smell was unbearable, a mixture of urine, feces, mold, and smoke.

Samantha vomited the first few days.

Then her body got used to it and stopped reacting.

The man never took off his mask, even when he slept, as if he was afraid that she would see his face and be able to identify him later.

But Samantha wasn’t sure there would be a later.

He never once said he would let her go.

He only said, “When I get tired of you, I’ll decide what to do.

” Samantha tried to talk to him to find out who he was, what he wanted, why he was doing this.

He rarely answered, only in fragments.

He said he hated women, that they were all the same, that they deserved pain.

He said he had been living here in the forest for several months, waiting for the right victim, a lone tourist who could be taken without witnesses.

Samantha wasn’t the first, but she didn’t want to believe it.

didn’t want to think that there had been others, that he had killed them.

On the fifth or sixth day, Samantha wasn’t sure.

The man left the cave in the morning, leaving her tied up, her mouth taped shut.

He said he was going to get food and would be back in the evening.

It was her chance.

Samantha worked on the ropes around her wrists all day, rubbing them against a sharp protrusion on the wall.

The rope wore away slowly.

The skin on her wrists was torn and the blood made her hands slippery.

But by evening, the rope had loosened and Samantha was able to free one hand then the other.

She untied her legs and tore the tape off her mouth.

She stood up, but her legs wouldn’t obey her.

Sitting and being tied up for so long had disrupted her circulation.

She forced herself to move and made her way to the cave exit.

The passage was narrow and low, forcing her to bend over.

She went outside.

Forest, dense, dark, with no visible trails.

Samantha didn’t know which way to go.

The sun was not visible through the canopy.

She chose a direction at random down the slope, thinking that downhill usually leads to water, to a river, and a river can lead to a trail.

She ran as best she could, naked, barefoot, her body covered in bruises, abrasions, and burns.

Branches whipped her skin, rocks cut her feet.

She ran for 20 minutes, maybe half an hour, then heard a shout behind her.

The man had returned, discovered she was missing, and was chasing her.

Samantha sped up, but she didn’t have enough strength.

Her body was exhausted, hungry, and tortured.

She tripped over a root, fell, and hit her head on a rock.

Her consciousness floated away, darkened.

She woke up from the blow.

The man was standing over her, kicking her in the ribs, back and head.

He shouted, “Did you think you could escape? Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” He dragged her back to the cave and threw her on the floor.

Samantha didn’t resist.

She didn’t have the strength.

He tied her up again, tighter this time, the ropes cutting into her skin until it bled.

He said, “You’ll pay for this.

You’ll pay dearly.” He took a knife, a large hunting knife.

Samantha screamed, thinking he was going to kill her.

But he didn’t cut her.

He cut his own palm, squeezing blood onto her face, into her mouth.

He said, “My blood is on you, my mark.

You are my property.

Remember that.” Then he beat her even harder than before.

He broke her fingers one by one, listening to the crunch of bones and her screams.

He burned her skin, not with cigarette butts, but with a knife heated over a fire, pressing it against her stomach, thighs, and chest.

Samantha lost consciousness from the pain.

He splashed water on her face, brought her back to her senses, and continued.

I don’t know how long it lasted.

Time ceased to exist.

There was only pain, endless, all-consuming.

When he finished, Samantha lay motionless, not crying, just lying there.

He said, “Don’t try to run away again.

Next time, I’ll kill you.” After that, Samantha didn’t try.

She had no strength, no hope.

She just waited for it all to end.

Death seemed like a release.

But on the 10th day, the man made a decision.

In the morning, he said, “I’m tired of you.

I’m taking you back to the forest, tying you to a tree, and letting nature decide.

If you survive, you’re lucky.

Most likely, you won’t.

Samantha didn’t answer.

She had no words.

The man dressed her in the remains of her own clothes, torn and dirty.

He tied her hands and taped her mouth shut.

He carried her out of the cave through the forest, a long way, in the opposite direction from where he had brought her.

They reached a large fur tree away from the trails.

He tied Samantha to the trunk with ropes tightly around her wrists, ankles, and waist.

Samantha did not resist, did not move.

The man stood in front of her, looked her in the eyes.

He said, “Thanks for the entertainment.

Maybe someone will find you.

Maybe not.

I don’t care.

” He turned around and walked into the forest.

Samantha watched him until his figure disappeared between the trees.

She was left alone, tied to a tree in the middle of the forest, without food, without water, without the ability to move.

Tape over her mouth, breathing through her nose.

Her body achd, every cell achd.

She wanted to die quickly without suffering.

But death did not come.

A day passed, then a night.

Samantha lost consciousness.

Then came two.

She hallucinated, saw her mother who had died five years ago.

Saw Jennifer, saw her colleagues from the hospital.

They called to her, told her to come with them.

She tried to go, but the ropes held her back.

On the morning of the second day, she heard voices, distant, unclear.

She thought it was a hallucination.

But the voices were getting closer.

They shouted, “Is anyone there?” Samantha, answer us.

The search party.

Finally, after 10 days, Samantha tried to scream, but the tape muffled the sound, and only a moan came out.

She gathered her remaining strength and began banging her head against the tree trunk to make noise.

Once, twice, three times, the skin on her forehead broke.

Blood flowed into her eyes, but she continued.

The voices stopped and listened.

One shouted, “Do you hear that? Something’s there.

” Branches rustled and several figures in orange search vests appeared between the trees.

They saw her.

They froze for a second, not believing their eyes.

Then they ran.

Ranger Tom Henderson was the first to reach her.

He checked her pulse and shouted to the others, “She’s alive.

She’s alive.

Call an ambulance.

” They untied her, put her on a stretcher, and covered her with a thermal blanket.

Samantha looked at the sky through the treetops, unable to believe that this was real, that they had found her, that the nightmare was over.

The ranger asked cautiously, “Who did this?” Samantha looked at him and whispered through parched lips, “A man, a mask, a cave.

” Then she lost consciousness.

Samantha was taken to Olympic Medical Center in Port Angeles.

Doctors worked on her for several hours.

She was critically dehydrated, had lost about 8 kg in 10 days, had multiple fractures in the fingers of both hands, broken ribs, secondderee burns on her stomach, chest, and thighs, abrasions, cuts, and infections.

She had internal injuries from violence and tissue tears, concussion from blows to the head against a tree, and beatings.

Her psychological state was critical.

Samantha did not speak, did not respond to questions, lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

A psychiatrist diagnosed acute post-traumatic stress disorder, shock, and dissociation.

She was treated in the hospital for 2 weeks.

Her physical wounds healed slowly and antibiotics were used to fight infections.

Her psychological wounds did not heal at all.

Detectives from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office questioned Samantha as soon as the doctors gave their permission.

She told them everything she remembered.

A masked man, a cave, 10 days of torture and abuse.

Her description of the man was vague.

tall, about six feet, stocky build, low voice, neutral accent.

The mask covered his face completely.

She didn’t remember his eye color.

It was dark, only a kerosene lamp.

His clothes were dark, dirty, nothing special.

The cave was somewhere in the forest, a few kilometers from the Hoa Rin forest trail, the direction.

She was carried there, bound in the dark.

Inside the cave were the man’s belongings, a sleeping bag, backpack, canned food, firewood, and a kerosene lamp.

The man said he had been living there for several months, waiting for a victim.

Detectives organized a search for the cave.

They combed the woods within a 5 km radius of where Samantha was found.

They used dogs, helicopters, dozens of rangers, and volunteers.

They searched for 2 weeks.

They didn’t find it.

There are thousands of caves in Olympic National Park.

Most are small, unregistered, and hidden by dense vegetation.

Finding a specific one without exact coordinates is virtually impossible.

Detectives checked all suspicious men in the area.

They interviewed local residents, park employees, and tourists who were in the park on those dates.

They compiled a list of 30 potential suspects, men with criminal records, sex offenders, people living in isolation in the woods.

They checked their alibis and questioned them.

Nothing matched.

DNA was collected from Samantha’s body and from the crime scene.

It was checked against databases.

There were no matches.

Either the man was not in the databases or his DNA was not registered.

No fingerprints were collected.

The man did not touch Samantha’s belongings with his bare hands, always wearing gloves, and left no evidence behind.

The case reached a dead end after a month.

Detectives continued to receive anonymous tips and check leads, but nothing led to a result.

The masked man disappeared like a ghost, vanishing into the forest.

Samantha was discharged from the hospital in mid August.

She returned to Seattle to Jennifer who took care of her and helped her recover.

But the recovery was slow and painful.

Physically, Samantha was gradually healing.

Her bones were healing, her burns were turning into scars, and the infections were receding.

But psychologically, she was devastated.

She couldn’t sleep at night, had nightmares every night, and woke up screaming.

She couldn’t go outside alone and panic set in if she saw a man with a similar build.

She couldn’t go to the forest and even city parks caused anxiety attacks.

She couldn’t go back to work.

The sight of the hospital, the smells, the sounds triggered flashbacks.

She underwent therapy with a psychologist and took anti-depressants, sleeping pills, and anti-anxiety medication.

It didn’t help much.

After 6 months, Samantha tried to return to normal life.

She found a job in a small clinic, which was less stressful than a hospital with fewer patients and a calmer atmosphere.

She tried to meet up with friends and attend social events.

But she couldn’t.

She felt like a stranger, detached from the world, as if part of her had remained in that cave.

Her relationship with Jennifer deteriorated.

Jennifer tried to be supportive, but the tension grew.

Samantha was irritable, withdrawn, and flew into rages for no reason.

Jennifer was tired, emotionally exhausted.

A year after the incident, she moved out, saying she couldn’t take it anymore, that she needed space.

Samantha was left alone in the apartment.

The isolation exacerbated her depression.

She stopped going to work and quit her job.

She lived on her savings and payments from the Crime Victim Assistance Program.

She rarely left the apartment, ordered food delivery, stayed at home, watched TV, and drank wine to numb her thoughts.

She tried to date men several times.

It didn’t work out.

Touch caused panic, flashbacks, and she couldn’t tolerate physical intimacy.

The men left, not understanding what was wrong with her.

She tried to kill herself twice.

The first time was 2 years after the incident in 2009.

an overdose of sleeping pills.

Jennifer, who visited her occasionally, found her in time, called an ambulance, and they pumped her stomach.

The second attempt was a year later when she cut her veins in the bathroom.

A neighbor heard the sound of a fall, called the police, and she was saved again.

After the second attempt, she was placed in a psychiatric clinic for 3 months.

She was treated, monitored, and stabilized.

She was discharged on the condition that she visit a psychiatrist regularly.

Samantha tried to live, but life was an existence, not a life.

Every day was a struggle.

A struggle with memories, with pain, with the desire to die.

In 2012, 5 years after the incident, Samantha Meyers died.

The official cause of death was an overdose of opioid painkillers and alcohol.

Whether it was accidental or intentional is unclear.

She was found in her apartment 3 days later after neighbors complained about the smell.

33 years old.

She was buried in a cemetery in Seattle next to her mother’s grave.

There were several people at the funeral.

Jennifer, a few former colleagues, a psychologist.

It was a small short service.

The priest spoke of suffering, of liberation, of the peace that Samantha had finally found.

The case of her abduction and assault remained unsolved.

The masked man was never found, never identified, never punished.

Detectives periodically returned to the case when new technologies and methods became available.

They rechecked DNA databases as they expanded.

They reviewed the evidence and looked for new leads.

They found nothing.

Perhaps the man died, perished in the woods, killed in another crime.

Perhaps he moved to another state, another country.

Perhaps he is still there in the Olympic forests, living in caves, hunting lone female tourists.

After Samantha’s death, the detective who led the case, James McKenzie, gave an interview to a local newspaper.

He said that the Samantha Meyers case was one of the most difficult of his career, that he thinks about her often, feels guilty that he couldn’t find the perpetrator, that he couldn’t give her the justice she deserved.

He said that the case remains open and that if new leads emerge, he will return to it even in retirement.

But no new leads have emerged.

More than 10 years have passed.

The case has gone cold and been archived, but it remains officially open.

Samantha Meyers’s story became a warning to tourists.

Olympic National Park now more actively warns about the risks of solo hiking, especially for women.

They recommend hiking in groups, registering carefully, and having communication devices and satellite beacons.

But warnings don’t always help.

Every year, hundreds of people go missing in US national parks.

Most are found alive, lost, injured.

Some are found dead from hypothermia, falls, animal attacks.

Some are never found.

And some, like Samantha, are found too late after falling victim to crimes that no one knew about.

Crimes that take place in the silence of vast wild forests, far from civilization, from help, from witnesses.

Samantha Meyers spent 10 days in hell.

She survived physically but died psychologically.

Because some wounds cannot be healed, some memories cannot be erased, some pain remains forever.

She tried to live for 5 years after her release.

She tried to return to normality, to work, to relationships, to the life she had before.

But the Samantha who existed before July 16th, 2007 died in that cave.

What returned was only a shell filled with pain, fear, and despair.

In 2012, the shell could no longer hold.

Samantha decided she couldn’t take it anymore.

She took pills, drank alcohol, lay down on the bed, and closed her eyes.

She finally found the piece she had been looking for for 5 years.

The man in the mask took her life in that cave.

It just took 5 years for her body to catch up with her soul, and he’s still there somewhere.

Maybe in the Olympic Forests, maybe somewhere else, hunting, waiting for his next victim.

The next lone tourist who signs up for a remote trail goes alone into the wild forest, thinking that nature is safe, that the only dangers are animals and the weather, not knowing that the most dangerous thing in the forest is another human being.

A faceless man in a mask living like an animal hunting people.

Samantha knew that now.

She paid for that knowledge with her life.

And her story is a warning.

What looks like paradise is not always safe.

Solitude in nature does not always bring peace.

Sometimes it brings an encounter with the darkest thing humanity has to offer.

And sometimes after such an encounter, even if you survive physically, you don’t really survive.

Samantha Meyers didn’t survive.

She died in 2012.

But she actually died in 2007 in a cave at the hands of a man in a mask who took not only her body for 10 days but her soul forever.