She says "Now here's a true story," as she applies the blood red lipstick to her shapeless lips. "It's about some one very dear to me. Some one who was taken away from me, but you know all about that part." She rubs her lips together and snaps the cover back onto the gold tube in her hand. I'm trying to move, to escape, but the knots are tied tight. I was always good at untying knots, but I wasn't familiar with this particular kind. "Thank you boy scouts, you really helped me out when I needed you" I think as she slips her lipstick back into her snakeskin purse.

Her eyes are so cold. Every time she looks my way I feel as if I've done something wrong, and this is my just punishment. I've been locked in a room without windows, without life, and this woman is telling me a story about Gene, the woman I loved. She thinks she knows everything about Gene, but I have a few surprises for her. I just have to break free of these bonds.

Hello, and welcome to my new torture cell. My name is Richard Keene and I am a perfect being, a soul without sin. I know this is hard to swallow, having done what I have, but everything I do is for the greater good, for the saving of all of mankind. I'm currently being held, against my will, I assure you, in a room approximately 100 miles from my apartment, and my dog Skip. The room is completely devoid of life. The walls are covered in crusty strips of light blue paint, I am most likely breathing in flecks of it as we speak.

The woman who is holding me here is incredibly ugly. Her hair is frizzy, limp, and a dusty shade of what would have been a nice brown color. Her fingers are stained with nicotine, and her lips are wrinkled, flattened prunes. Her skin is pale and her cheeks are hollow. Her body is thin, a stick, a frame with skin pulled on unprofessionally. Her voice sounds like a crackling fire, like a different part of her. It snaps through the air like a whip, coming from a different angle every time.

Her lips part again as she continues to speak. "You probably know more about parts of this than I do, but I have something you don't." She thinks she has the upper hand, but I have something bigger. There is one thing I have that she doesn't though. She may be holding me here, she may think she has the upper hand, but I am a savior. I am a murderer.