"Please. She's the only one who made it."

Only a few days after surviving her trial, Amanda was begrudgingly brought in to give her testimony to the police and to a man she had never seen before. The detectives made her relive her game, as if she hadn't been reflecting on and reliving it in her head since the day it happened. The events rewinding like an old cassette tape, but not nearly as fuzzy. She refused to look anyone in the eye. She didn't want to break down yet again. She twitched and shook, recalling every detail she could as everyone stared at her.

Detective Tapp's voice was calming, sure, but she still had to think about the gore that stained her brain. Her mouth still sore from the blades. Not a drop of water in the world could wash away the distinct taste of blood that lingered in her gums.

She watched as the man behind the glass twinged at her story, her eyes filling with tears again as she recalls the disemboweled man she had to rip through. She knew she wouldn't get arrested for this - her hands were tied. She did what she needed to do in order to survive and the police knew it. They were more interested in the one responsible for this cruelty. As was Amanda. That question continued to rattle in her brain. Who was the puppetmaster behind this? Who would want to do this to her? She never trusted the police, but part of her wanted to see the man behind her capture brought to justice. The other part wanted to thank him personally.

When questioned about her habitual drug use being the reason why she was chosen, she began to break down. She already knew this, but the reminder that her past life was the cipher for her challenging trial stung like a bullet to the chest.

"Are you grateful, Mandy?"

She finally lifted her head and stared at Tapp, locking onto his sincere brown eyes. She wiped away her tears and began to stutter.

"H-he helped me."

She sobbed lightly before being escorted out by the police. They thanked her for her testimony and drove her back to her apartment complex. She stared blankly out the back window, barely recognizing the city she spent her entire life wallowing in. Her own reflection a stranger to her now. The officer driving tried to speak with her, but she chose to keep to herself. She didn't want to talk anymore. She just wanted to go home and collapse into her bed. Maybe run a razor through her wrists.

She peeked at her phone to see if anyone had called her. No one. When she attempted to call her mother, all she got was the answering machine. No call back. No messages. Nothing. She was truly alone. The crushing feeling of loneliness and guilt continued to push against her soul. She had no one to lean on - nothing but the cold, smelly walls of her apartment to cry on.

"Stay safe," the officer said as he pulled up to Amanda's building. She nodded and slammed the car door. Her eyes were affixed to the ground as she trundled up to the lobby. There were people sitting on the couch. One of them had a camera around his neck.

He looked up at her and waved. He didn't seem bothered by her appearance. She smirked and offered a half-hearted wave back. He went back to talking to his friend - a scruffy, dark-haired man who commented on her scars and the size of her ass. She hurried up the stairs to avoid any more attention.

She felt apprehensive when putting her key in the door. She felt the crippling loneliness creep up on her. It sent a chill down her spine. She knew that walking into her apartment would mean that she would be wandering into that familiar pit of despair that she has fallen into over and over again. She didn't want to go inside, but what choice did she have?

Amanda sighed as she opened her door, greeted by the cold grip of darkness. She turned on her light and sat on the bed, close to crying yet again. Until she heard a voice.

"Amanda. Do not be afraid."