I have regained most of my energy thanks to the medicine Timothy got me. I get up from my bed and stretch. I go the bathroom, wash my mouth and clean my body. I could not do any of that yesterday. Today I want to look good for him, as a way to say than you. I want to feed his eyes. I know he does not care, but I want to look as good as I can for him. Once I am done, I pick up a dusty novel which I have not read in years. I settle on my small wooden chair and I begin to re-explore the pages.

I have gone through a quarter of the book, I am enjoying it as much as I did the first time I read its words. I flip to the next page and then I hear Madam aggressively struggling with the chains of my door before successfully unlocking it. She trudges down the stairs, murmuring something I cannot make out. She is definitely in a sour mood today. I notice that she is not dressed for work yet, maybe she has a day off.

I place the book on the table, and I stand to greet, "Good morning Madam," I smile warmly.

She ignores me and leaves my food tray on me stool. She turns around to leave but pauses once her foot has touched the first step. She turns to me and furrows her eyebrows, I wonder what has caused her to have such a peculiar look on her face. She slowly walks to me, I feel my heart beating faster than it should. She is meticulously studying my face, she brings up the back of her palms to my forehead, then down to my neck. She steps back and places her hands on her chin, then, I see fury burning in her eyes.

"You're not dead?" she asks. "You're not even on the verge of death," she sneers. "Yesterday you were burning up, today you look just fine, as though you weren't sick at all."

Upon hearing her words I begin to get cautious. My eyes dart to my mattress where my medicine is hidden. 

"I got better," I croak.

"Impossible!" she smacks her palms on her thighs. "That's impossible without medical care," she shakes her head repeatedly. "It's impossible," she whispers.

I swallow hard, "it is a miracle," I try in a small voice.

"You wench," she points at me. "Miracles don't happen to evil people like you, you destroyed my life. If anyone should have a miracle, it should be me," she screams and pounds her fist on her chest. "Tell me now how you got healed!" she demands. "Tell me!" She yells, saliva escaping her mouth.

I flinch and I take a step back. I am such a fool, I should have pretended to be sick.  "I just woke up and I was okay," I say, trembling. I do not want her to hit me, I cannot handle her hitting me.

"You snuck out again you evil ungrateful child!" she points at me accusingly.

I shake my head profusely "no-no, ne-never," I stammer. "I did not sneak out. I swear it," I say.

"You liar," she screams at the top of her lungs and slams her hand on my stool, knocking down the tray of food in the process. "You liar," she cries. "You're trying to sabotage my chances," she says. She is moving closer to me and with every step she takes forward, I take the same amount backward. "Yes, you tried to escape, once again you want to ruin my life," she is shaking her head in an unusual manner, the anger getting stronger.

She pulls me by my hair and slams my head on the table. I wail. She is not done with me yet,  she drags me by my feet causing me to fall flat to the floor. She starts to pound her fist into any part of my body it lands on, each blow harsher than the last. "You evil child!" She cries, "You're just like your father, why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Please," I plead, cry, implore, and whimper. She does not stop. "Please," I cry louder but she ignores my plea.

I try to use my hands as a shield, but it is to no avail. Once her anger has subsided she stops hitting me, she huff and puffs over me for a while before leaving me alone to lie in my pain, my blood and my tears. She bangs the door shut and then I hear her scream.

Lunatic.

I lie on the ground crying, I thought today was going to be a good day, it has started out terribly already. I cannot even get up, I am too weak to do that. I soon hear the window bars being pushed open, I look up to see Timothy. In his eyes are the same fury that Madam held in hers. He clenches and unclenches his fist, I try to get up, but I stumble and fall. He runs over to me and holds me in his arms, I cry into his sweet smelling shirt. He rubs my back and wipes away my tears. "I can't bear to see you suffer again, you deserve a much better story. Your story needs to be rewritten," he says, fervently.

I look up at him, the anger is still strong in his eyes. "It ends today," he says with determination. I am surprised that Madam cannot hear us, she probably is not close by anymore. "It ends today," he says with even more determination, he places a kiss on my forehead and stands up.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He does not answer, he slides his hands into his pocket and pulls something out. He flips it open and I can tell that it is a pocket knife. My eyes widen in shock.

"Timothy, what are you doing?"

"I wasn't speaking tongue-in-cheek when I said I'd kill for you," he kisses my forehead again, and then he crawls out the hole of the vent.

The shock gives me the energy to get up, I call his name not even caring about Madam.

"Timothy please come back," I plead. I crawl out the vent in pain. I see that he is already at the door. He is going to harm her, I hope he does not do something too rash.

He bangs on the front door forcefully. "Timothy, please don't do anything!" I start a fresh round of tears, he ignores me. He has a strong look on his face, one even stronger than the one he had when he beat up the pot-bellied kidnapper. It is like something has taken over his body.

I call out his name again but then I freeze when Madams pulls open the door.