Fear and Love

The night was still. The room was dark.

She seemed to struggle with the rope. At first. Then she settled.

When I touched her, I noticed her skin felt cold. Her body was tense. She was avoiding eye contact. I don’t blame her. None of this was easy.

When her eyes finally met mine, I saw fear.

Defiance.

Will I regret this?

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There are two ways I could tell you this story.

I could reveal her name and face, but I would need to omit the darkest parts. Sanitise the narrative to the point where it no longer paints an accurate picture.

Or I could protect her identity, but tell you everything.

When I started this series, I promised you honesty. No sugar-coating. No holding back.

I'm not in touch with her anymore. Things didn’t end particularly well. But I owe her a measure of decency for the sake of our time together and because I’d expect the same if she was the one sitting on this chair.

Her name and face will be left to your imagination, but I’ll tell you everything else.

Unfiltered.

Let’s start from the beginning.