But first, you and I must come to an agreement. Because I know you only want to get out of this prison.' I raised my head and fixed him with a look of absolute hatred. I tried to say something, but suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was filled with a horror so great it paralyzed me. I felt something within me collapse. I was falling. It was his voice that told me to trust him. How did he know? When? Why? There was nothing I could do, there was nothing anyone could do, and he felt that as much as he did. 'It's too late,' I said through the darkness that enveloped me. _'It's not too late. You can still breathe, you can still love, you can still breathe, you can still love.'_ His voice, always soothing, always so soothing, and so soothing in my head, took me out of the void. I felt myself being pulled back into consciousness, back into the world, back into myself. And when I looked into his eyes, I was pulled back into myself once more. I felt my consciousness and his, our consciousness, suddenly becoming one, and within this all-encompassing sphere, inside this circle that embraced us both, there was only one way to escape. I saw that the key I held in my hand was the key that unlocked a great mystery, the key I had inherited from my mother. I could escape without him. I could break free from this nightmare. I could find the love I so desperately desired and longed for, the love that would save me from the torment that constantly burned in my heart. I could live life once more, freely, as I wanted to, not as someone who had to endure the pain of never seeing her child grow up, as someone who could never be loved, as the mother of a child who was not hers, but whose presence robbed me of the ability to live. I could live life again as if it had never been anything but a long, long dream. It all made perfect sense. I looked again at the key, still in my hand. This was the key to finding my own life, where I could be strong enough to resist the anguish that every moment of my life was marked by the certainty that I was looking for the key to the prison door that the devil of my childhood had given me, the key that I never wanted to open. I turned away from him, and the voice was once more the voice of the cruel, smiling stranger. 'Are you ready?' he asked. And then I felt myself being pulled, no, _drawn_ into a world of images: the memory of his face, bathed in blood; a woman in a nightgown, covered in scratches, on her knees. A broken chair. A gun. A bloody hand. A man in a nightshirt, a knife between his teeth, with a bloody knife in his hand. A boy whose hands were wet with blood. A woman whose face is bathed in blood. A man with a bloody knife in his hand. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. This went on for what felt like an eternity. But it was no more than five minutes, and then they disappeared and I was alone again. We could still escape. He could see it too. We could walk away from this, back to a world that was real and full of hope. He was right there, in front of me, waiting for me to give him the key. A key that I would hold in my hand until the last moment, until he decided to give it back to me, and then I would keep it hidden away somewhere, never giving it back to him. A single, powerful thrust of the knife through my back would end this nightmare. It was all so clear, and so unbearable. I closed my eyes, filled with a tremendous sorrow. We were so close to each other. His hand was on my shoulder. I could feel his hand. I could feel its warmth, through the fabric. He held me and drew me in. He held me tight and whispered to me. _'All of these men, all the men who've died over the years, all their souls were here, and now they're in me. But now I have a body for them, and the body for the soul, and I can give it to you, so we can be happy, and live, and love. And for that we must first let them out.'_ I knew where they were. I felt inside me. His voice was inside me. I closed my eyes again. I saw those men who died by his hand. They were buried. Their faces were sad. They were so alone, and so scared. They looked at him with fear and hatred. It was only the beginning. And there was more, so much more. Now he was kneeling before them, in the middle of the room. Now it was their turn to look at him with fear and hate. He stood up and began to walk through the men, like a shadow. There were so many, so many of them, hundreds, thousands, millions, stretching on forever. They were all in there, in his head, and they were just as confused as I was, wondering what the key was. _They looked at him with fear and hate. He put his hands over his eyes, to shield himself from them, but they only became worse. They began to speak as if they were inside his head. They had a single voice, and it was the voice of hell, and it was terrible. There was a woman, a woman with black nails that gleamed as if they were made of ice. She had a knife between her teeth, and she wanted to kill him. The boy with the knife was also there. He was the one who had killed my father. He was the one who had killed his own mother. He kept saying that he couldn't forgive himself. And a man with a knife in his hand. A man whose face was covered in sores, and who had been given a pen by a woman, a woman who had a bloody face, who had a knife between her teeth, and who said that he wanted to kill him. The man looked in his eyes, and then looked at the man with the knife, and then looked at the woman, and he said that she should kill them both. There was a man with a knife who had a long scar, and whose face was covered with scratches. He had a woman in his arms, whom he had captured. He said that she should let them both live. He said that he had taken something from her, and he was planning to take something from her in return. He said that he was going to kill her too, and when he took her life, he would take her soul. The woman had a knife between her teeth. The man saw a woman who was standing by the window, her hair covered with blood. He said that she should kill him. The woman said that she would never do that, that they should take her life. The man saw a boy with a knife. He was young, barely sixteen, and he had a knife between his teeth. His face was covered with scratches. There was a woman who had a knife between her teeth, and she was cutting a girl's throat. The man was happy about the blood. He said that he was going to kill them both, that they would die together. A man with a knife was standing by a door. He was wearing a nightshirt and had a bloodstained knife in his hand. He said that he was going to kill him, and when he did, his heart would stop beating. Another woman had a knife between her teeth. She was smiling. She said she wanted to kill them. She wanted to see her son again, whom she hadn't seen for so long. The man took out a gun and put the gun against his temple. He was begging for his life. Another man was on his knees, begging him to kill him. The man was laughing at him. Another man had a knife between his teeth. He saw a woman who was walking toward him. He said that she should kill him, that she should take his life and give it to him. He also said that he didn't want to live, that he was going to kill himself. A woman was standing by a window, her hair covered in blood. The man saw a woman with a knife between her teeth. He saw another woman, a girl who was naked, lying on the floor, with a knife between her teeth, and who wasn't moving, not even to breathe. A woman who was walking up and down the room, naked, laughing. Another woman, another woman with a knife between her teeth. He asked if she would kill him. He said he was going to kill himself, that he wanted her to take his life. A woman was pointing a gun at him. He was begging for his life. He was sobbing. Another woman was standing in the corner. There was another woman who was sitting on the ground, naked. Another woman was there. Another woman was standing there, naked. Another woman. Another woman. Another woman, a woman with a knife between her teeth. A woman was walking toward him. A woman was asking him to kill her, asking him to kill her. Another woman was kneeling before him. He was killing a man with a knife. He said that he was going to give her his life, that he wanted her