Seventy seven

A knock was heard and a paper was being thrown at her she picked it, then took her seat and sat opposite the door. She wrote back to the woman asking if she had brought her son.

“I'm afraid, I am unable to see your son. But, I am certain, you won't recognize your son when you see him and before you die.”

“Get me my son! I will tell my son how wicked of a being you are and I will tell the whole world what you are too.”

She hit the door and shouted her response.

“You are already losing it and running mad. No one will believe a thing that you say. For these eighteen years, I have kept you locked in here, and yes, all the drugs I feed you each day, is to make you loose your sanity and forget everything in the whole world. And tomorrow, I will take you out and … when that time comes, you will become vulnerable that you won't be able to say a word and based on your reaction I will know, whether to kill you or to use you as my pun.”

She said to her and Andrew, where he was staying, grit his