The class had been taught by the excellent Crawford, who could turn almost anybody into a decent profiler, given time. Sociopaths suffer from a certain failure of imagination that allows them to believe these questions have simple answers. Further, since death is also terrible, they look for these answers in the vicinity of death. Now, lying on a hotel bed, the soft mouth of a sociopath tracing ornate and arcane symbols over her skin, Sam remembered sensible, sturdy Joan Holt and her terrible questions. Ask Sam Waters, and she would have told you that evil is the plodding procrastination that keeps you from your true vocation, the heavy block on your heart that kills a forgiveness even as you mean to give it, the grey dull shadow that lets you wait until tomorrow to tell someone you love them.
Evil is the failure of imagination.
Not a Freudian death wish. Not kundalini blocked at some lower chakra. No hungry demons. No Satan, leading into temptation. The answer is ambiguous, or nonexistent.