It's really dark, and really cold. Where are you? You can't see a thing in the darkness around you. Pain throbs in your head as you try to wrench your arms loose from where they seem to be tied to the chair you're seated on. You try to scream out for help, but it's muffled by what feels like industrial tape over your mouth. You try to remember what happened to get you here, but you can't even recall who you are. Just darkness.

You wonder if maybe you can tilt the chair and get onto your feet. Your legs are tied together, but you have to try. You tilt the chair to the right, and almost get your feet underneath you, but quickly lose your ballance and slam down sideways onto the concrete floor, now completely unable to get any leverage to get back up. In the distance, quiet at first, you can hear what sounds like footsteps coming down wooden stairs behind you. The sound gets louder and louder before you hear a door open, and a light flicks on. Now the room's so... Bright. Someone walks up to you from behind, pulls your chair into an upright position. Suddenly you feel tired and weak, perhaps with the realisation that you can't do anything to get out of here. A man (seemingly a bit of a psycho) in a plain white mask walks in front of you and brushes dirt off your clothing with his hand.

Psycho: No, no. You shouldn't be awake yet... Oh, well. You had to wake sooner or later, of course.

You try to respond, or scream something, but you can't make much noise through the tape.

Psycho: You can calm down. I don't want to hurt you. I just needed a friend. And friends don't hurt friends. Friends sit around in coffee shops, go to one another's weddings and discuss their problems... I... I have a problem...

The psycho drags over a wooden chair, like the only you're sitting on, and sits in front of you.

Psycho: I know you won't mind me talking about it. That's what friends are for, right?... Let's see. Where do I start? Well, probably when I was little. As long as I can remember, my big sister... She used to like to hurt me. You know? And I mean, really. She would burn me with lighters. She would shatter my poor knuckles with a hammer. All the time, the bitch tortured me. For years. I thought things were going to get better, but they only god worse, you know? It just made me want to die, so it could all be over. But I quickly realised that I couldn't do that. I wasn't the one at fault. She was. So, I set up a trap. As soon as she opened the door to her room, the ax would take her head right off her shoulders. As you may have guessed, it didn't go to plan. It... Really... Did not go to plan. The trap failed, and she knew what I tried to do.

The man pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal huge scars covering his entire arm.

Psycho: AND THIS IS WHAT SHE DID TO ME... LOOK AT IT.... IT WASN'T FAIR, I WAS DEFENDING MYSELF FROM A LIFE OF SHEER TORTURE THE ONLY WAY THAT I KNEW HOW!... IT'S NOT FAIR.... It isn't fair, and she's still alive! I will find her... And take from her... Her right to live on our planet.

You have so many questions, but overiding those questions is your need to escape. And preventing both your questions, and hopes to escape is a combination of tape, rope, and a wooden chair. And the man in front of you.

Pyscho: In fact, you know my sister. Could call her a friend of yours. But, that doesn't make you the evil, vile creature that she is. You would never put me through what she put me through, would you?...... Would you?.... Oh, wow.... Can I really trust you?

The words echo through your mind and your heart sinks as he asks the question.

Psycho: How COULD I trust you?... A good friend wouldn't tell people about this. About what I plan to do... But, you would be a bad friend to her not to tell her. I think you'd rather tell her than allow. I'll be thrown... In... Jail. I can't go there. ALL I WANTED WAS SOMEBODY WHO CARED, DAMMIT.... WHY must I never have anybody?

The man seems to cry behind his mask, then grabs ahold of your hair, forcing your head downwards. You hear two last words...

Psycho: Goodbye, friend.

...Before a blade goes through the base of your skull, and everything goes black.







Amy: I don't understand why you need to speak to Kimmy.

Police officer: We have evidence supporting the fact that she might have been involved in a recent violent crime. That's all I'm authorised to tell you.

...................
Who says, who says you're not perfect?
Who says you're not worth it?
Who says you're the only one that's hurtin'?
Trust me, that's the price of beauty
Who says you're not pretty?
Who says you're not beautiful?
Who says?