The water from the leaking roof trickled indefinitely and echoed within the thin walls of the warehouse.

I sighed, "so, how do you expect him to come here?" I asked, looking up at Keita. He and I had been for over two hours, sitting and waiting for nothing.

"Patience, Mao." He hushed from his solo game of chess. "I sent him a letter, that's all." He dawdled with an uninterested voice, "he should—ha! I got you this time." With a quick slash of his wrist, the chess piece flew across the room and Keita laughed victoriously by himself. He then started tapping his foot quickly and playing with his fingers as he thought of his next move to play against himself. I leaned my head back from the chair with my eyes closed, only to hear whispers and mutters from the crazy man himself.

I wish he would just kill me. I have no significance in this world. If I were to disappear forever, it wouldn't change anyone's life. I looked back at Keita again; his agitated mutters were growing louder. Should I make a run for it? Does he have a weapon? If he does, I can't see it. Where's the exit?

For nearly three hours I have spent in this warehouse, I have managed to loosen up the ropes moderately by wriggling my arms, wrists, and fingers discretely when Keita wasn't looking. It was a honed skill that I learned from camping and my father. Even though the method was tedious and painful, it was effective. And I knew I had no choice.

Ahh, screw it.

Much faster than I realized it, my legs flung, the chair rattling forcefully from behind. Adrenaline was pumping like crazy and my brain wasn't thinking. My legs sprinted harshly and blindly. My ragged steps echoed heavily within the walls of the warehouse, as if it were calling the Devil himself. Snapping his head back, Keita roared and bolted towards me, knocking over the table and his game. "You have made a terrible mistake, Mao." He muttered lowly under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear the malice in his tone. I had to run as fast as I can—to anywhere but here.

I ran towards a white corridor, my breath was becoming uneven and dry every second. I could tell that the trail was a long way to go, but I just prayed that my quivering legs would be able to handle it. At the sense of being chased like a helpless rabbit, the pulse on my neck was hammering violently, ready to burst at any second. Cold sweat began to drip on my face. I struggled to open my stinging eyes, "I'm coming for you, my kitten." I heard him chuckle. 'Please, I don't want to die. I don't want to die!' I screamed on top of my head, squeezing my sight to clear it from the forming tears. The air was thick with my fear—and I knew Keita could sense it. Seeing the door, I desperately turned the knob repeatedly with shaking hands, "come on, come on!" I yelled. After a few seconds later, I finally heard the euphoric sound: click! I quickly turned the knob when, all of a sudden, I felt a ruthless pull on the back of my head that sent my body flying backwards, crashing down to the floor.

At that exact moment, it was as if time slowed down and my vision of escape was crushed instantly without a single trace of mercy-my worst fear came to life. "Did you really think you could escape from me, Mao?" Keita cackled maniacally at my feeble attempt. His chest bobbed as he tried to find his breath; in return, I stared lifelessly at his eyes, but all I could see was nothing but black. I don't care anymore. I'm tired. I'm scared. I felt like crying, but my body wouldn't let me. I was too exhausted, so all I could muster up was a silent whimper… a soft cry for help. I bit my lip and stayed on the floor, surrendered. I tried and I failed; the determination to fight and survive vanished into thin air the moment I felt the sharp thrust on the back of my head. I'm sorry I couldn't be the person you wanted me to be, Dad. I didn't want it to end like this, trust me.

Keita crouches down to the floor, "I'm sorry, Mao, but you did a bad thing." My nose flares at the putrid stench of the cigarette mixed with cheap alcohol in his breath. The nauseating breath latches onto my skin; his breath was plague, devouring every inch of my body alive with darkness. "You are a bad girl, Mao, and do you know what happens to bad girls?" He raised his eyebrow and tilted his head, waiting for my response. Unfortunately for him, I could barely open my fluttering eyes as I was constantly in between consciousness and unconsciousness. 'I don't want to know,' I wanted to say…or did I already say it? Did he hear me? I hope he did. "They get punished," he states and smirks, raising his arm, equipped with a metal pipe, before slashing a merciless blow to my head.

I groaned lightly as my eyes struggled to open and adjust to the bright light. I was in the same situation as I started before: bound to a chair, but alone in a different area of the warehouse. At a time like this, I had already lost touch with reality and decide to humor myself. I thought: Well, if Keita were to kill me, chop off my body parts, and dispose of them in the ocean, at least I could fulfill my lifelong dream of traveling the world. For example, perhaps my left ear would float down to Indonesia or my kneecap could end up in Sweden! I've always wanted to live in Sweden.

I sighed at my stupidity. 'Wake up, Mao. Focus' I mentally scolded myself. I tugged at the rope harshly, only to regret it a second later. I then angled my left shoulder higher, my fingers and my wrists twisting and turning here and there. It wasn't until several minutes later that I decided to stop because my wrist felt like they were on fire from the scorching friction of the tightly-bound rope.

"Hang in there, Mao." Keita mused, snapping me back to the reality that is my current nightmare. How long had he been sitting on that chair? I didn't notice at all. "You're not here because I hate you. You're here because of Agito and, in my opinion, the one to blame isn't me, but the boy himself.

I scoffed, "of course you hate me. You bullied me for years. You were the one that made my middle school life a living hell, Keita."

He shook his head frivolously like a child, "I don't hate you; I just like watching you suffer." My chest squeezed.

"What?" I spat.

Smiling tightly, he turned his chair around, crossed his right leg over the other, propped his arm on his leg, rested his face on his hand, and leaned forward with widening eyes, "I find satisfaction in other's misery." The frighteningly-calm voice sent shivers to my spine. It felt like someone just punched me in the throat. I had no words to say. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt very uncomfortable. "I had different kinds of wild fun before, but that damn Agito ruined everything."

He inched closer to me, his deranged eyes bulging open, "I…I enjoy seeing faces that are in pain-or-or lament, just… misery in general. I love that. I enjoy seeing their face convulse in pure agony… or their crying faces as I crush their pride after a battle. They make my heart beat so fast! Do you know what I'm saying? I love that. I enjoy that! However, when I was at the very top of my game, that Agito challenged me to a duel—and do you know what he did, Mao? Do you? He cheated! He appeared from behind, sighed, and said, 'hey, don't do it half-assed. I was expecting more from a Class B rider-what a fucking joke,' while the hooks on his jacket jerked me backwards during my jump…so I fell from the sky. I broke both of my legs and my left arm; the damage was irreversible and therapy took years. That was the end of my career as a racer."

I waited for a few more moments to find the words, but I couldn't. Agito…really did all of that? He ended someone's dream in one match. I wanted to say something—anything, but nothing came out.

Keita's face softened—a sight I've never seen before—and his voice became gentle, "the exact moment I hit the hard ground, I found myself staring at the dark sky. 'How long was I flying? How did I look from down here?' I heard the cheers and the howls of the other riders and it hasn't dawned onto me that I couldn't move. I could breathe—it was quick and shallow, but I could do it. I tried to move my arm, but I felt nothing. It was as if my arm were detached from my own body and I felt numb all over. Everything…everything was quiet. You could even say "relaxing", maybe, if only it weren't for the fact that my face started to sweat and it trailed down my face, dirtying it." Keita's voice became smooth and slow towards the end, almost in a whisper; I was afraid I had missed what he said. Keita's shoulders dropped as he sat back desolately on his chair. Tears. They're called "tears", Keita. "The thing is, I didn't really mind breaking my legs nor my arm or even losing my title; I was the most upset about not seeing people's pitiful faces anymore. I miss that sight. I crave it. He took away my only happiness. That Agito…he cheated."

"Keita…" I started in a murmur, when I was suddenly interrupted.

"OI! YOU FUCK!" A wild and deafening voice erupted from the outside door, bursting it open.

A/N: So much for uploading this chapter on my birthday, June 10. Am I right?