I understand that most of you find it too disgusting to your likings but I would appreciate it if you kindly tell me where I am exceeding the mark so that I can improve. Anyway, thank you all for reading it.

The next few days of my life seemed like an everlasting tour to hell. Still this day, when I remember about those moments, an excruciating pain chokes me. A strange mix of fury and pain drives me into frenzy. Repeating the tale was like reliving it, and I had already relived it again and again.

Every moment that I had spent their, has been etched into my memory forever. Sometimes I considered pouring acid into my mind. It would at least destroy those memories. But I could never master enough courage to welcome pain and harm myself. Neither back then nor later. Even after getting intolerable pain, I could not get used to it. But the pain did one good thing to me. The pain taught me to fight. It helped me to fight for my survival.

On the third day of my abduction, when I rightly identified Sam, I started giving him warnings. I told them how Charlie would find out everything and they would be punished, and they would all die for what they did to me. They laughed openly enjoying my threats, and torturing me further. I mastered all my courage to fight. I thought I would fight until I die. Death seemed an easy way out.

I fought against them. Showed them resistance but that was a foolish thing to do. I could never win. I was physically too weak and my mental power was crumbling bit by bit into dust. I understood how much I loved my life. Once, when I had found myself almost dying at their hands, I baulked. No matter how pathetic my life was, I was not ready to give it up. Coming almost face to face with death changed the perspective. I started begging for my life. It pleased them to see me grovelling at their feet and lick their filth to stay alive.

When I understood that there was no way out for me, and soon everything would be over for me, I fought with a new tactic. I stopped fighting them and resisting them openly. I started a passive fight. No resistance but no reactions. Just like the first two days – when I was beyond shock and too numb- I let them do anything with me. Only this time I was not shocked or numb. I knew what was going on and I deliberately showed indifference and unresponsiveness. They enjoyed my pain and I was determined not to give them that. But my unresponsiveness provoked them further and the molestation that followed after that was brutal.

I had to devise a new way of survival. They hated my unresponsiveness and indifference so if I continued to do that, to elicit some response from me they would go to great lengths. They would be so brutal in their ways that I would die soon. But fighting them openly would not do me any good. I was too weak to fight and my weak efforts of fighting would give them the enjoyment. My weakness and pain is what they wanted to see. I did not want to give them that but I had no other way. I knew protesting or resisting wont help a bit

So after long thoughts, I chose begging. I knew I lacked strength to really fight them and escape. And in order to escape I must let them believe that I was too weak to even try escaping. So that they became overconfident and less cautious. I remembered how they enjoyed when I begged for the first time. Apparently they would not be so hard on docile and begging victim.

I had started to hate myself for being pathetic and weak. A part of my mind rebuked its counterpart for being too weak to end this with my death or their murder. But the wiser part of my mind knew that it would be impossible. Begging might let them torture me less or al teast earn me few days of life, until I could figure a way out.

How ironic! I, who always valued virtue and self respect above all, was going down to such depths just to be physically alive.

But deep down all, there was another hidden reason (besides the obvious), for my pathetic attempts to keep myself alive. I knew these fiends must be punished and for that I needed to stay alive. It was not only my fear for death that made me act like that. There was a silent and low vindictive fire burning inside me that hoped against all hopes, to burn these filthy creatures one day.

I could no more recognize myself. Accepting humiliation and tortures of all sorts just to live so that I could avenge myself one day and devising a plan so cold minded in such a situation, was not something I ever considered myself capable of.

I was changing. I was morphing into someone else. And believe it or not I was fighting in my own way.