Weeks I sat, tied to this chair. I was enclosed within thick concrete walls, my prisoner kneeling before me on the floor. I screamed and hollered at the door.

‘Nobody will hear you.’ he whispered in my ear as he ran a finger down my shivering neck.

I took a shaking breath and mumbled something inaudible, even to my ears.

‘Speak up.’ he ordered.

I struggled again. His hand froze around my collar bone. Suddenly he laughed, though his eyes were filled with rage. Those complex eyes. A veil of riddles behind every gaze.

And then a sinister silence fell between us and he drew closer. I felt his breath on my cheek. A mocking voice, yet he closed his eyes and whispered in a tone, frightful and meek.

‘How can you think that, dear Catherine?’

He did not know … he could not guess. A tear fell from my eye and suddenly he hit me across my face, but then his hand returned, shaking with sorrow and fear. Gently he brushed away my tear.

He unmasked the small silver gun hanging from his belt and held it to my head.