I am back in a shack. In a dark dark place which never misses my dreams. My nostrils are being suffocated by the smell of wet dirt. I use the sunlight seeping through the small holes to get acquainted with my surroundings. I spy the cinder block in the middle.  I can already tell that this one is not like the one on which I was whipped eight years ago. This one is made of marble while the other one was made of clay.

Elizabeth whimpers besides me and I roll over so that I can be near her. My tied up hands don't help the situation. I heft myself to a sitting position and I finally spy Elizabeth curled up on the floor. Her tied up hands frame her slightly rounded belly.

I spy another body on the floor in another corner of the room. The woman is also in a sitting position with her hands tied up infront of her. Her grey helmet of hair is streaked with dried blood. The part of her face that I can see  is mangled up as if she has been repeatedly hit by a blunt instrument. A baseball bat is my first guess.

The woman groans and moves her head to the side. Her grey helmet of hair falls to the side and I realize that the woman is actually my mother. Her mouth is gagged with a rolled up pillowcase and the other half of her face is mangled up too.

Elizabeth is now tapping me furiously. She has also pushed herself to a sitting position. I look back at her and realize that she is sitted  facing towards me. Her hands are furiously pulling at the zip tie that has been used to tie up my hands. You go girl.

I also start to make myself useful by getting  rid of the gag on my mouth. I lean my head on the cold dirty wall and start to rub the gag against the wall.

After a few more unsuccessful attempts, I feel like giving up. Rubbing the gag on the wall has only earned me bruises. Elizabeth has also given up trying to get rid of the zip tie.

I feel an extra weight lean against my side and a fresh set of hands begins to work on the zip tie. I look back to see my mother trying to free my hands. Just to be petty, I am tempted to pull away my hands from her but I rethink my decision. Help is help even when it is coming from your enemy.

Footsteps sound in the distance. They start to get closer and my mom works faster.

Gregory stamps his feet at the entrance of the door before the door yawns open. We are screwed. My hands and legs are still bound. We are so fucking screwed.

Gregory simply smiles when he sees us all huddled together and I can't help but remember the time I first met him.

He came to the hospital claiming to be suffering from a dissociative identity disorder and like a normal psychiatrist, I scheduled weekly meetings. Soon, I needed to buy a car and he offered to help me get an affordable used car. I initially refused because psychiatrists were not supposed to get too close to their clients but he insisted. I bought the car and in the grand scheme of things, I had to refer Gregory to another psychiatrist because we had become close friends. Then Gregory got feelings and things spiralled downhill from there.

Looking at him now, I wonder if he really has a dissociative identity disorder because the Gregory I knew as Walter eight years ago is not the Gregory I became friends with not so long ago.

The sound of a whip cracking brings me back to reality. My heart rate spikes and I can feel myself start to hyperventilate. Tears sting my eyes as I see Gregory play with the same whip from my nightmares.

Amidst all my panicking, I notice something else. My hands are free. My mother has succeeded in getting rid of the zip tie. I proceed to work on freeing her as well.

"Remember this." Gregory asks as he continues whipping the floor.

"I have a confession to make. You want to hear it?" Gregory adds when he realizes that I can't reply.

"You shouldn't hate Evan. I'm the one who did most of the work. All he did was kidnap you and whip you a few times. I think he only came to see you twice. The first time when he brought you down here and the last time when you killed him. Evan failed to understand that deep down, he was a monster like me. He failed to understand that monsters like us don't feel things. They don't feel love and they definitely don't feel pity." He whipped the floor again.

I curl my fingers until I can feel the pain of my nails piercing my palms. I am angry but I don't know for what reason. Gregory keeps playing with the whip. He tests it out on the cinder block and the sound jolts a dosing Elizabeth awake.

"Victoria came to save you that day. Well she tried to. I had to carry her all the way home. She was catatonic the entire day. Poor thing. Then Grandpa died in his sleep and Aunt Margaret came in for a piece of the inheritance. Did Aunt Maggie tell you that I am her nephew. She didn't did she? She was always a good liar."

My jaw was literally on the floor the entire duration of his monologue. Gregory had succeeded in shocking me completely.

Air wheezes passed my face as the whip begins it's decent to my whimpering body. Fuck not being scared. A whip is my worst enemy and I am shivering. I squeeze my eyes shut because closing your eyes magically makes things so much better.

What? Pain should be spreading over my body right now. I should be gritting my teeth against the body numbing pain. I reluctantly open my eyes and watch in horror as my battered and bruised mother takes on Gregory. She is fighting with all she's got and she is losing. A gun goes off. I watch in slow motion as my mother's body jerks and she drops to the floor like a log.

Unbidden, a scream bubbles up to my throat at the sight of my mother lying on the floor. Blood pools around her body and Elizabeth lets out a weak scream.

Gregory stalks towards me with the widest smile I have ever seen. The whip goes back up and I swerve to the side abruptly just as the whip wheezes to my side.

Since Margaret's trick doesn't work, I opt for another strategy but I don't find one. Gregory is stomping towards me and I don't know what to do. I am definitely adding self defense classes to the list of resolutions.

Elizabeth's leg snakes out from under her and she kicks Gregory in the knee. I expect him to fall but he doesn't. He only sways on his feet. Red hot anger takes over Gregory's eyes as he kicks Elizabeth. His leg raises to kick Elizabeth again and I slam my whole body weight into him. We both fall to the damp floor. Something sticky and warm is on my face and I ignore it. I don't have time to think right now.

I spy the whip to the right of my head and I roll towards it. I curl my hands around the smooth black handle just as warm big hands curl around my neck. He starts to squeeze the life out of me. The gag on my mouth makes the situation worse.

"Strangling has never been my thing but I am willing to try." Gregory whispers. His breath is hot on my bruised face.

I whip him again and again until he lets go of my neck and he falls to the floor clutching his torn bleeding face. I get up and spy a gun next to where Gregory lies on the floor. Gregory crawls towards the gun and I give chase. I step on his outstretched hand with my black sneakers and he growls.

I pick up the gun and just like I did with Evan, I fire the entire magazine into Gregory's body.

The door bursts open and Archer dashes in. I know they can't save him. He is dead and I am the one who killed him.  The acrid smell of gun powder announces my victory. I have won and he has lost. The gun falls to the floor. Archer touches my face to check if I am alright and I sag against him.