Boyd. The years I had spent thinking about him, wondering about him and me, and what could have been. What had he thought of me over the years?

I knew. I knew what he thought. He had hunted me, tracked me, and had come to leisurely enjoy his kill. He thought I was locked up.

Well. Our confrontation would occur, but no doubt a little differently than Boyd imagined. I would never become but another trophy in his collection.

Suddenly it became very clear to me why She had fostered this queer relationship with Boyd. She had left nothing to chance in my development, and this night I would pass my final exam.

I needed to be clear-headed, swift of reaction, in case he had tricks of his own. Hunger weighed heavily on my mind, the weakness devastating to my faculties.

Diana. I tasted again her sweetness on my tongue.

I searched the house with my consciousness. The adults had gone to bed, I lowered their eyelids and put them to sleep with a brief wave of conducive music. My Diana was sleeping, too—lightly. Boyd and the boy were in the boy’s room, both sitting on the bottom bunk. Books rested on their laps, and they talked. They talked of destroying me while in the very room that used to be my own. That room used to be my bedroom, where once I had childhood dreams, thoughts, childish motives and emotions. My room. My place, my sanctuary, my boundaries of life, from birth through age twelve.

They were arguing about me.

I sent some music to keep them occupied, and I enjoyed monitoring their reactions to my fine-tuned talent. I wove nets for them, nets of danger, of injury, of pain, and I drew them tighter and tighter about the two, reveling in the stench of fear that fell through the floorboards and into my lap. I wound the nooses tighter around their necks, wrapped them securely with bonds of insecurity, ineptitude, ineffectiveness, and futility.

I had them secured in their own emotional excretions far tighter than Rosemary ever bound me with her leather and shackles.

And then I concentrated on Diana.

Wake up, my darling. Remember my promise? Come to me and I will give you everything.

She remembered. She got up and with very little encouragement opened the door and walked through the house. She never hesitated to turn on a light; she remembered about the symphony of darkness. She was too good, too precious, too wonderful. My saliva glands ached in appreciation.

Come directly to me, through the kitchen. Open the cellar door. Take the steps, one at a time, oh, my child, oh, yes, come, come to Angelina, she will give you everything. Everything and more.