Okay. So here I am. But where exactly is ‘here’, I have no idea, and that happens to be a major concern for me in the current situation. What do I see around me? Well, what do you see in a place where you’ve never been to before? Unfamiliar faces that stare at me with big wild eyes as they pass by, large buildings that stand dominant over the small lanes that make their way in between the great structures, the air filled with a strangely tempting aroma of fried fish. The dry scorching heat hits me hard, as my cheeks flush dark red and drops of perspiration begin trickling down from my forehead. I look around desperately, hoping to spot something that could explain what was going on with me. But all my attempts are in vain as all that I can see are gray buildings surrounding me from all directions. I look up at the windows, but no one seems to be living here. I remember wishing for some exciting adventure in my life a few days ago, but this is definitely not what I expected.

Here I sit on a rickety stool, amidst the swarming, mentally preoccupied people out on the street each with their own purpose of being here. I try to get up and walk around to explore the place and figure out what exactly happened with me in the last few hours, which seem to be erased from my memory which isn’t that good I must admit. But I can’t seem to be able to stand up. Why, you ask? Well you would agree that it is a tad bit challenging to get up when you have your legs tightly tied together and your hands seem to be too numb to untie them. Okay, so I’m hopelessly lost in the crowd, but the odd part is that I am not moving, rather everyone around me is. I am the stationary object which seems to be receiving a lot of undue attention from passersby. Whoever said that every woman likes attention should be in my place right now, that person will definitely think that they should have been more specific.

A weird-looking scruffy man wrapped in blankets, with his frizzy beard growing as wild as ever looks at me and comes close immediately. He leans in even closer and stops with his face just inches from mine. After looking directly into my eyes for a few discomforting moments, he turns around swiftly and walks off snickering to himself. Okay, that definitely didn’t make my condition any better; rather I would say it freaked me out even more. Now that I am left with no choice, I decide to scream out as loud as I can and if my luck is with me today someone might come explain to me exactly where I am. I open my mouth and yell with all the strength that I can muster. And what happens? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And why? Well, because my voice seems to be lost mysteriously.

The inner child in me wants to weep and cry out loudly for someone to help me get out of this horrible place, but the façade that I have put on for the last few hours remains resolute and refuses to reveal any emotion. I hide my face in my shoulder and close my eyes for a while, hoping to be magically transported back home when I open them. I look up, and see a blurry outline of a bulky figure of a man walking towards me with small heavy steps. Slowly his face becomes clear and I gasp in horror. Is it him? No, it can’t be.

Eyes are very expressive. And the ones staring at me right now shone with intimidating menace. A stiletto clutched tightly in his one and only hand, the other having been bitten off by a shark, he stared at me with cold dead eyes. He was no doubt extremely frightening. I could sense a certain strong feeling of vengeance in him as he grunted with pain.

There we were, the only two people in about a 100 mile radius, in a deserted wine cellar near Vauxhall’s Vineyards. The air was filled with a discomforting effluvium which was coming from one of the barrels that he had smashed open a while ago when he was raging with immense anger. He had gagged me and tied me up tightly to a cold red-brick pillar. A sudden jolt of fear raced through me as lightning struck a nearby tree and set it on fire.

25 years ago, the most dangerous criminal, Regenald Shaw had been captured by me. He was sent to the world’s most secure prison on an isolated island far from civilization, named Forsdyke Island. It was owned and managed by the Chinese government and was feared by even the most bold criminals. It was commonly known as ‘Torture Island’. It was worse than a nightmare, but having ruthlessly murdered 79 innocent people in Britain, Shaw nothing less than deserved it.

“You’ve made a mistake. A terrible mistake. And the best part is that you have not the slightest idea about how severely you will pay for it” Shaw threatened me as he looked straight into my eyes with a determination that shook me to the core. He gave a screeching loud maniacal laugh as the police officers threw him onto the ship which was leaving for Forsdyke Island. And that was the last I saw of him, until yesterday.

I got a call at my office from someone called Colin Hunt. He said that he needed to meet me urgently regarding an illegal act that he had seen being performed. I reached the meeting place alone just as he had requested. When no one showed up for almost 3 hours, I got suspicious and decided to leave. Just as I was entering my car, a strong hand grasped me from behind and struck a sharp blow on my head. I could feel my head spinning as I lost my consciousness. By the time I had regained my senses, I was in the wine cellar, alone with my my old enemy, Shaw.

“I escaped” he said, answering my questioning eyes. “How could I leave you dear? I had to come back for you, just for you” he added lightly with a smirk. I wanted to say so much but I couldn’t, thanks to the disgusting piece of cloth which had been stuffed into my mouth.

There was no way I could get out of here alive. Shaw would never let that happen. With sharp grey eyes, a wicked smile and a muscular body covered in tattoos, that man scared the living hell out of me. His focus was on me as he pondered over how he would finish me off. He smacked himself as if the answer had been obvious the whole time, and he thrust his hand somewhere into his ragged clothes and pulled out a stiletto. He definitely wasn’t going to go easy on me. He was going to make sure that I was tortured just as much as he was on Forsdyke Island, perhaps even more.

He came closer and gently stroked my cheek with the blade as trickles of blood streamed down my pale terrified face. I stared into his menacing eyes and wondered how they hid such great terror. I breathed deeply as he proceeded to finish me off forever.