It stings. I feel it sting. I feel it working.
Why me? Why always me?
I must resist, I must- 

...

... What... was... that...?

It seemed only a few seconds to me, but I knew I had been unconscious for at least 10 minutes. And seeing where I was now, I knew it had probably been a bit longer. I was back in the bedroom in Master's house. Everything was back where it belongs, but the window was still broken. A wooden board blocked the sunlight and the cold air outside. I was pleasantly surprised noticing I had my gloves back on.

It bothered me that I let myself get caught so easily again. It seemed that I went to exactly the wrong house for help. 

I got up and walked around. I saw that the desk was a little damaged from being thrown out of the window. I also saw this time it had been nailed to the wall. I must've slept really long, I thought. I didn't hear Master doing that when I was- 

I froze in place. Did I just call him Master?! 

"Watch your thoughts, young lady!" I said aloud to myself, pointing at my own face.
Then I heard the floor right outside the door crack softly.
"En let ook op je woorden," (And also watch your words) I continued in Dutch. "De luistervinkjes hoeven je niet te verstaan." (The eavesdroppers don't need to understand you.)
"Doe gien moejite!" (Don't even bother) said Ma- CARL!! from behind my door with a terrible accent.
"Can't you just leave me alone for a change?" I sighed. "I've really had more than enough of you. What do you even want from me? You do realize metal artists don't have any money, right?"
"Oh, but I'm not after money, my slave," sounded his voice. "You must've noticed by now."

I felt my eyes burn, as if I was about to shoot lasers from them. I slowly took off my gloves. 

"Listen well, you so-called Master," I hissed. "I am not your slave, I have never been anything near your slave and I will never be your slave. And if that is not clear enough if I say it, I will have some furniture deposited on your skull, until your spine shatters and the shards of bone come out of your skin."

"Such violence. It almost sounds like you're angry." 

I threw myself against the door. The fun thing about that is that it wasn't locked. It flew open, throwing Ma- CARL!! aside. I felt like hurting him, but I felt more like leaving this messed-up place. I ran, not looking back, until I reached the outside door. I went through without even looking where I went. Running footsteps behind me warned me that the enemy was coming closer. I stood against the door and kept it closed. Gasping I looked around and realized the mistake I made: Wrong door.