SOLE SURVIVOR I escaped a SERIAL KILLER

Waiting at the bar, a bloke grinned at me. ‘I like your toenail colour,’ he said.

I glanced down at my feet, then at the man’s – we both had silver nail polish and Birkenstock shoes.

Laughing, he told me his name was Chris, and his girl mates had painted his nails.

‘They look great,’ I laughed.

It was 1997, and I was celebrating a mate’s birthday at my uni’s bar.

Chatting to Chris, who was a 196cm-tall student with ashy brown hair, we hit it off and started dating.

And after Chris went away for a few weeks, we were reunited on August 28, 1997. That day, Chris was due to pick me up at 7pm.

Waiting by the door, I heard his voice over