Years ago, you were kidnapped. Your captor never told you his name and only shared with you that the world thought you were dead. He broke your phone and tied you up, giving you no way to escape or to call out for help. He tortured you in ways beyond belief; he really enjoyed putting scissors in your mouth and opening them to see how far your mouth would stretch before it tore and bled. Another of his favorite torture methods was throwing needles at your face and if you flinched, he would pierce your left eye. Never right, only left, and never enough to make you blind, only enough to hurt horribly. You had given up on life and didn’t expect to ever feel joy again, so there was no point in resisting what he did to you. Your submissiveness pleased him for years, until one day he suddenly grabbed you and dragged you to the door. “You’re free to go.” You thought you were dreaming for a moment then began to realize what was happening. Your captor stared at you with a hint of remorse in his eyes and maybe even a twinge of guilt? His voice was firm when he spoke and you could tell that for some reason he felt… bad maybe? He looked almost sad to see his favorite toy go, yet his tone was adamant. “You can leave, pet.”