"I asked, who are you?"

His voice echoed in the dimly lit room.

It was a question laced with uncertainty, like a hesitant whisper in the night, yet it ignited a tempest of emotions within me.

A surge of anger clawed at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me in its fiery embrace.

But I clung to the fraying threads of restraint, refusing to succumb to the raging storm brewing within.

Instead, I met his gaze with an icy composure, masking the tumult of emotions raging beneath the surface.

"I am the one who gave you that injury over your eye," my voice sliced through the silence like a jagged shard of glass, each word dripping with the venom of resentment and vindication.

The knife in my hand felt weighty, its blade gleaming malevolently in the faint light, a tangible manifestation of the violence that simmered just beneath the surface.

"You?" His disbelief hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of fear and realization.

Slowly, recognition dawned in his eyes, a flicker of comprehension illuminating the depths of his confusion.

"Do you finally remember me?" I taunted, a smirk curling upon my lips like a cruel parody of empathy. It was a moment of triumph, a fleeting victory snatched from the jaws of obscurity, and

I savored it with a twisted sense of satisfaction. The air crackled with tension, thick with the weight of unspoken truths and unresolved grievances, as the gravity of our shared history loomed over us like a specter from the past.

"How did you escape from that facility?" His voice bore the solemnity of a judge pronouncing a verdict, the weight of his inquiry pressing down upon me like an invisible burden.

Gone was the lighthearted banter, replaced by a sense of urgency tinged with apprehension.

"Well, does that matter that much?" I parried, my tone deceptively casual, masking the adrenaline-fueled thrill that coursed through my veins.

In that moment, I reveled in the shift of power, in the palpable uncertainty that clouded his expression like a gathering storm.

"You're right, it doesn't matter." His words hung in the air like a looming threat, a promise of retribution veiled behind a facade of calm resolve.

And then, he smiled – a smile devoid of warmth, filled instead with the chilling promise of vengeance yet to be exacted.

"Finally, I can punish you myself. Assistant, catch him," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade slicing through silk.

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His assistant stood poised to obey, ready to carry out his master's bidding without question.

But I was faster and deadlier.

Before the assistant could even take a single step forward, I seized control of the moment, harnessing the raw power that surged within me.

With a sudden burst of energy, I willed myself to teleport, crossing the distance between of space between us in the blink of an eye.

And there I stood, a phantom conjured from the depths of uncertainty, confronting him with an intensity that mirrored the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions raging within.

It was a moment of defiance, a testament to the indomitable spirit that burned within me, as I dared to challenge the forces that sought to confine me.

"Wha-!!" His voice was choked off mid-sentence, a strangled cry of shock and disbelief as my knife found its mark, piercing his neck with merciless precision.

Blood blossomed forth in a macabre symphony of crimson, splattering the ground in a grotesque tableau of violence as his life ebbed away in a crimson tide.

The director, a silent witness to this sudden eruption of brutality, felt a chill creep down his spine, an icy finger tracing a path of fear along his vertebrae.

With a desperate urgency born of primal instinct, he sought to flee the room, to seek solace behind the safety of his guards.

But I had no intention of letting him go.

A pulsating blue aura enveloped him, a spectral shroud of energy that bound him in place, rendering him immobile, his every movement stymied by unseen forces beyond his comprehension.

"Where are you trying to go?" My voice was a whispered echo of menace, laced with the promise of retribution as I seized control of the moment, my will bending the fabric of reality to my whims.

With a flick of my wrist, I summoned the director's body towards me, a puppet on invisible strings, his form floating helplessly through the air towards my outstretched hand.

It was a moment of triumph, a fleeting victory snatched from the jaws of defeat, as I reveled in the raw power that surged within me, a force to be reckoned with, a harbinger of chaos and destruction.

"We still have a lot to settle," I whispered, my voice a sinister promise as I withdrew the knife from his neck, a gleaming blade stained with the evidence of his demise.

"You ba-!!" His protest was cut short, his words choked off by an unseen force as I exerted my will upon him, a silent command that silenced his defiance with ruthless efficiency.

"Shh...!!" I hissed, my finger pressed against my lips in a gesture of quiet menace, compelling him to obey with a single glance.

The weight of my gaze bore down upon him, a tangible force that held him captive in a prison of fear.

I relished the sight of terror that flickered in his eyes, a primal instinct laid bare for all to see.

It was a heady sensation, a rush of power that coursed through my veins fueling the flames of my righteous indignation.

But it was not enough. With a swift and deliberate motion, I brought the blade of my knife perilously close to his trembling thighs, a silent threat that hung in the air like a guillotine poised to strike.

"Aaaagh!"

His agonized cry echoed through the room, a symphony of pain and despair that resonated with the visceral intensity of his suffering.

With each thrust of the blade, I felt a surge of sadistic pleasure wash over me, a dark tide of satisfaction that consumed me whole.

It was a moment of reckoning, a cathartic release of pent-up rage and resentment as I exacted my revenge upon the man who had wronged me.

And in that moment, as his cries echoed off the walls, I knew that justice had been served.

One stab.

Two stabs.

The rhythm of violence echoed through the room, each thrust of the knife punctuating the air with a symphony of agony.

He tried to scream, to vocalize the searing pain that consumed him, but I silenced his cries with a cruel twist of my power, trapping his torment within the confines of our chamber of horrors.

With each plunge of the blade, adrenaline surged through my veins, fueling the madness that consumed my mind.

I reveled in the thrill of sadistic pleasure, intoxicated by the power I wielded over him, a puppetmaster orchestrating his suffering with ruthless precision.

Madness clouded my thoughts, obscuring the line between right and wrong, as I entertained twisted fantasies dancing through my mind.

What if I thrust the knife here, or made a slit like this?

The possibilities were endless, each more depraved than the last, as I toyed with inflicting ever greater torment upon my hapless victim.

But even as I indulged in my darkest desires, I sensed the director nearing his breaking point.

His body writhed in agony, his screams muted by invisible shackles binding him to his fate.

Momentarily relenting, I brought my face closer to his, my voice a chilling whisper cutting through the suffocating silence.

"Run."

Without hesitation, the director seized upon the opportunity for escape, his movements fueled by a primal instinct for survival.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As he fled, his body stumbled and faltered, the stairs beneath him a cruel reminder of his mortality.

His movements, once filled with purpose, now seemed pathetic and desperate, a pitiful display of weakness that only fueled my resolve.

I, the architect of his downfall, watched with cold detachment as he fell, his fate sealed by the twisted whims of my unforgiving nature.

There would be no escape, no reprieve from the horrors awaiting him at my hands.

In that moment, I had become the embodiment of his darkest nightmares, a specter of vengeance haunting him until the end of his days.