You’ve thought about starting a running list of people who might want to murder you, so you could save the police the step of having them question your friends and family and having them be like, “Nobody would want to hurt Claire, everybody loved her”.
But then you think about it, and you really can’t think of anyone who would murder you, and are overcome with the crippling fear that if you get murdered, the cops will have no leads. And you become just another episode of Cold Case.
You rarely help strangers because the sweet old lady asking you for the time is clearly just a trick. She’s obviously got an entourage of goons waiting to ambush you and throw you in the back of the running van around the corner.
Anytime you interact with anyone suspicious you take as many mental notes about their physical appearance as possible. And their number plate. And their clothes’ description. And their name.
You can often be heard muttering things like, “White male. Mid 30’s. Over 5’10. Black North Face shirt. Wedding band.” under your breath.
You try to avoid spaces without possible escape routes as much as possible. Like the elevator. Or the stairs. Or any other method to get you from one floor of a building to another. Actually, escalators are okay. (Side Note: I still use the elevator at work, but I trust those folks!)
Part of you thinks you could kill someone you didn’t like and get away with it easily (insulin injection between the toes—they’ll never suspect), but then you think about it and you decide that between the alibi, eye witnesses, motive, and DNA, the police would find you in about ten minutes, and it’s not because I’m from a small country.
You know that if you ever get questioned by the police, you’ll stay silent and get an attorney ASAP. Lawyer up and shut up: that’s your personal motto, apart from “Make love not war” and “Give peace a chance”. (Am I even the same person anymore?!)