I felt a knot of fear tightening in my stomach, but deep down, I knew there was no need to be afraid. It was likely just the houseparent, I reasoned. Though the thought of returning to that hellish place filled me with dread, I had no choice.

The large door creaked open on its own. I couldn't see who was there, but the sound of the key turning and the door groaning in protest broke the heavy silence. I could hear slow, deliberate footsteps echoing in the stillness. Each step felt agonizingly slow, the shoes squeaking with each movement. They continued, clacking against the floor, until they finally halted at the bottom of the stairs. My heart raced, but my curiosity about my potential savior compelled me to look. It was indeed the houseparent, standing at the edge of the staircase, her expression blank. Yet, I sensed that beneath that facade lay something deeper.

"You're free," she declared, her voice cold and unwavering. Those were the words I had longed to hear, the very words that had become my greatest desire. I wished they had come from an angel, but instead, they emerged from the lips of a saint cloaked in the guise of a devil, the one who had dragged me through the turmoil between hell and heaven.

Her facade was something she always maintained, an impenetrable shield. The dark aura she exuded could freeze you in an instant, her hair slicked back tightly, and her figure always composed, exuding an unsettling confidence.

This woman was both my angel and my devil, my savior and my destroyer.

She stood there, gazing at me. Was this truly all she wanted to say? I had been trapped here for three days, deprived of food and water—only starvation surrounded me. In those three days, this place stripped away my freedom, only to return it, forcing me to confront my past, my fears, and my very existence.

Memories were taken from me, again and again. What did this woman feel? The only thing she did was stand there, staring at me as I lay on the ground, devoid of life. I should have felt rage, but my energy was too depleted for that. My questions weighed heavily, knowing the answers would not be what I wanted to hear. Yet, one question relentlessly pounded in my mind: Why me? A question I had asked so often, yet never received an answer from anyone.

A woman who brought me to hell but also saved me from it. A woman who kept me alive yet also killed a part of me.

Meet my houseparent—someone who knows both sides.