Author's Note: This chapter contains mature content towards the end. Reader's discretion is required.

Amyra had no idea how long she had remained unconscious when she finally opened her eyes- it felt like a lifetime and somehow still not enough. She wondered how much time must have passed- how long was she out?- and what day it must be. But these were just natural questions in the back of her head. What occupied the major part of her mind was the presence of the man and it was with fear that she opened her eyes and was profoundly relieved to know that at the moment, she was alone in the room.

She had kept her eyes closed for some time even after regaining consciousness. She just didn't want to open them and face the torture - the truth - again, at least not without preparing herself for it. Within the black walls of her willfully obstructed vision, she could find some solace and courage. And it was making her feel better and stronger - because, with her eyes closed, she couldn't see anything that spoke of her weakness. Within her mind, she was a lioness, invincible and strong, and she was drawing from that inside courage for now. She was absorbing it because she needed all the bravery in the world to open these eyes and face the torture- she was sure he would hit her again.

She realised something once she let her vision free again - the ability to look was so gratifying that it immediately reduced the physical pain she felt. Taking in her surroundings more freely, her mind got diverted from the fact that the back of her head was still swollen, her face bruised and wounded. This room was big enough. Just like a classroom without a blackboard, she thought. She could still see the chair at the corner of the room at which he sat the last time she had opened her eyes. A chill went down her spine at the possibility of getting hit again and her eyes filled with tears.

I don't even know him. Never even seen this man before. Then why me? These thoughts bothered Amyra a lot. Not just because she didn't know him, but also because he did know stuff about her - the stuff that she herself had half-forgotten, and wasn't sure of what little she remembered.

Then she recalled his words. "What have you got me involved in?" He had looked almost scared at that moment, Amyra had felt it, she had seen it even in that state- of course, it was very subtle and obscured by his anger and her own pain. 

Before she could think more about what he could have possibly meant by that, she heard the door open. Amyra didn't realise that her whole body had gone rigid from fear and there was something else- thirst. Yes, that was back too. In fact, it had been there since she woke up, but seeing him suddenly reminded her both of her thirst and the beatings she had received last time she dared to ask for water. She kept quiet this time, licking her lips that were dry and chapped. 

Amyra looked at him and he looked back- both of them were expressionless at that moment, both of them studying each other. The man, she now noticed had a really handsome face and very cruel eyes. Those eyes will disclose many secrets, she thought, and then frowned wondering why a thought like that came to her mind. Maybe it was this frown that led the man into action again, and he walked towards her.

Amyra found herself leaning back more and more, her back pressing against the wall and the ropes tied around her hands were biting into her skin more than ever. He sat down in front of her on his one knee and without speaking a word, gave her a hard stare and Amyra just looked back at him, her eyes a little wider and back straight with fear, but otherwise, her face betraying nothing of her internal struggle.

Then he spoke, his voice was deep and hollow, "Okay Amyra, you have to give me some answers and then we can be done with this whole situation once and for all. Is that fine?" Amyra tried to ignore the way her insides twisted with discomfort.

"What do you want to know?" she asked him, and out of genuine curiosity. What can be so important that would lead him to do this?

He took in a deep breath and audibly released it from his mouth quite dramatically following it with a sarcastic smile. Amyra saw him do that and in one instant all his character was suddenly laid out in front of her like a story. She stared at him, observed him and felt like she could read him inside and out. And maybe he felt that too because he snapped at her, "Stop staring at me. Look down." 

Amyra still looked on at his glaring face, suddenly feeling like she couldn't help herself. She felt as if there was a whole treasure out in open for her, only if she pushed a little, and so she stared at him as if searching for something. There was a surge of power within her, a control she didn't know she had. But then she had to look away as a hard slap landed on her face and he growled at her. "Do not stare at me."

Amyra didn't say anything, just waited for the stinging pain to recede. Her ears were hot and her left side of the face must have been swollen, she was sure. She subconsciously licked the hollow space where her tooth used to be- yeah it was a molar she had lost. It tickled slightly but the pain was negligible compared to the rest of the bruises.

"Now that you are behaving yourself, answer me. What do you remember about the story of... of memory keepers?" The way he spoke, Amyra could tell even without looking at him that felt like an idiot asking this. And of course, it did seem kind of idiotic that anyone would go as far as kidnapping a girl to know about her childhood stories. The idea was so ludicrous that an unwanted chuckle broke out of her lips which turned into a giggle despite her trying not to. Maybe it was the shock. Another slap forced her to shut up.

"I don't remember much, honestly. My mom used to tell me some stories when I was a child like most mothers do. That's when she told me the stories of memory keepers and some other related tales. I've forgotten all of them, really." She told him, looking him in the eye, what was actually true on her part. 

He understood her, believed her it seemed. He wanted to speak more, but it looked like words were failing him. "Are you sure of that? It will be good for your health and bones if you try and recall some things. Because I'm tired of this game okay? So just tell me. What were those stories?"

Amyra spoke on impulse, truly surprised. "You kidnapped and hit me to hear a fucking childhood story?" She felt angry because the reason seemed beyond her. 

He took a handful of her hair and pulled her head back in anger. "I'm the only one who will ask the questions here. Got me?"

The way he pulled her hair was hurting her already sore skull more severely. Amyra stared at him stubbornly for a moment, then just nodded and he released her immediately. Already being hit so brutally, she realised that some small, brave part of her has lost the fear that she woke up with last time.

"Good. If not the story, then you do remember what your dad used to do, don't you? Just say yes or no." 

All of this seemed so unrealistic that at the moment, she didn't think there was anything that needed to be hidden from him- the things he was asking about didn't seem like a big secret. Well, maybe there are some things, she thought about the doll and Vansh, but surprisingly her face was completely straight. Amyra was discovering that she could be a great liar when needed, although in general, she wasn't an expert in lying because her feelings usually betrayed her. Maybe it was all about conscience- she could lie if she was convinced completely that it was not wrong to do so in the given situation.

"Yes. He was a psychiatrist." 

"Do you remember anything about his research?" 

Amyra did have an idea, but she just shook her head. Now, this was definitely a great lie, but she spoke it convincingly. "No, he kept his work to himself. I was never interested." 

"Okay, what about the dolls?"

Amyra felt her heartbeat increase ever so slightly, and she knew it was showing on her face- damn her over expressive self. She spoke, trying to reveal things in bits and pieces. "Yeah. I used to collect dolls as a habit."

"And?" he asked impatiently.

There was no use of complete lying, so she went with selective truth. "Those were reminders of everything wrong that I did. Kind of compensation. I kept them to punish myself." 

There, she spoke it out loud- a half-truth and not completely false. It seemed to have convinced him not to ask more about them as her eyes filled with tears that were not a lie. She turned her face away from him, not wanting him to see her in this intimate moment where her past has somehow come alive in her tears. She never knew her heart could ever weigh more than her body, but at that moment it did. The heaviness was the result of guilt and regret, she could feel the gravity of the mingled feelings of loss and sadness within her.

"Look here. Your dad's research. I want that. Where is it?" He asked impatiently.

"I don't know." This was true. She really didn't know what research he was talking about, although she did know there was something he was working on. She didn't know what it was though.

An unexpected slap rang her ears. 

"Don't act innocent, you bitch! I know you did something, okay?" Amyra's heart thudded with fear and her mind was suddenly filled with images of blood and some long-faded echoes of silent screams. She looked at him, her lips pursed and tears streaming down her face, but her jaws were set and her eyes had a flash of provoked anger. She glared at him through tears and he bent down, holding her face so tightly that she whimpered in pain.

"Tell me. All about those stories and about your father's godforsaken research!" He shouted at her and this time it wasn't followed by a slap on her face but a punch on her stomach. Air was knocked out of her, and her bound body convulsed with pain. She involuntarily pulled at the ropes that had tied her hands and feet as she fell down on the ground, ending up in the same position from which she had pulled herself up last time.

She sobbed slightly, and this time it wasn't only from the physical pain. But then soon the physical pain overtook everything else as more punches and kicks followed. She had almost fainted and was grateful for it, but his captor had other plans. 

Amyra felt water being sprinkled on her face and suddenly thirst, which she had long forgotten amid all the hell that had broken loose, came back with full force. The pain amplified her thirst and made it worse. She looked at the bottle and then at the man, imploring him with her eyes.

"You want this? You gotta tell me what you know." He dangled the water bottle in front of her as if she were not human, but a dog after a bone.

She tried to speak but all that came out her mouth was a sob which was the result of pain and shame, sadness and regret. She croaked in a series of broken syllables, "I... I don't know anything! Just give me the water, please... Please!" She hated herself and she hated this man in front of her more than anything or anyone.

He laughed, for the first time actually enjoying himself. "So tell me darling, tell me everything you know." 

She didn't say anything anymore but her eyes never stopped shedding tears and all that escaped her lips were sobs and whimpers. 

The devil's lips turned down in dismay and false sadness as he pulled out a small knife and showed it to her. "Maybe this can help you in recalling?"

Before Amyra could understand anything, he had pushed the tips of the blade into the flesh of her thighs and then pulled it out as Amyra screamed loudly and her whole body shuddered and convulsed with excruciating pain. But what was more painful than the pain itself was her inability to scream it out as he- the devil had taken hold of her and covered her face with his one hand while pinning her body down with his own, holding her in one place as she bled and felt the burning fire that her wound was giving her.

The man just looked at her all the while she screamed, his whole body pressing against her own, battered one. Amyra saw through this agony something more fearful- his eyes which were now dripping with desire and excitement, as he stared at her like a vulture. And just like a vulture, he seemed to be waiting, patient and impatient at the same time.

Disgust, this was a new feeling that came over her stronger than everything else. She tried to shake him off herself violently. She didn't know a strength that had been inside her came to surface. He didn't get off her, instead pressed his hand against the open wound on her thigh, his fingers groping her wound open like a hungry wolf and the way his body reacted to this torture, she could feel him within herself. She cried and shivered with excruciating pain and inhuman humiliation that she was subjected to. 

Wasn't she a human? No, she felt like a bag of meat and bones, an objectified bundle of flesh open for dogs and every fibre of her being revolted against this. She tried to throw him off herself, but soon he himself released her, panting and staggering backwards. His eyes were full of hunger and a satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. Amyra tried to curl into a ball, wanting to take herself within her own arms for comfort, but she couldn't do it. She was bound and left there on the floor, feeling exposed, scared and humiliated.

She cried with the trauma and fear, her body shaking with petrified sobs. She wanted to be out of here anyhow. She prayed to God, something she hadn't done in years, to get her out of this place. She thought of Riya and Dhruv, her father and mother. She thought of Vansh... She asked all of them to help her, hoping someone to find her. But most were gone, she herself included.

The man knelt down and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. "You better recall the things that I'm asking you. Otherwise, I promise, worse will come. And trust me, I'm a better killer than you are."

Amyra looked at him and she saw death. She knew that she wasn't getting out of here alive. There were two simple reasons for this. One was about safety- she had seen his face and he won't simply let her walk out of here alive to go and tell the police about everything. And the second reason was more dangerous and probably more prominent- he was a killer and he enjoyed torturing. Amyra knew he was going to murder her, and she could see it in his eyes that he could do worse than simply killing her.

He walked away from her, out of the room and Amyra laid there, crying for hours until she gratefully slipped into unconsciousness, wanting to never open her eyes again. But she would open her eyes, not into the reality but in dreams of past. 

It was truly the time to recollect the lost pieces of the past now and her journey was about to start.