Ilse spoke again, this time shifting her head side to side, punctuating the nonsense gibberish she was muttering beneath her breath with a shake of her head and a delicate little sigh. No fear in her eyes. No fear in her posture.

Samantha was clearly a narcissist. Multiple personality disorder, perhaps. Though now, Ilse didn’t think so. Samantha was all too aware of what she had been doing while blubbering and carrying on. No, not multiple personality disorder. Antisocial personality disorder with psychopathic tendencies. And psychopaths with social disorders liked control above all. They considered themselves special, and liked to consider themselves powerful. If they felt that power threatened, they would inflict pain. In their minds, control and pain were often correlated. Especially when there was trauma in the past.

And so Ilse knew the blow was coming before it even started. She knew Samantha would strike her. And she knew, exactly then, what her response would have to be. She needed the gag off.

Samantha lashed out, just as Ilse knew she would. Her fist colliding with her purported sister’s cheek. Expecting it, Ilse leaned the other way and received a glancing blow. It hurt, but not too badly. Instead of reacting to the punch, though, which would have been conceding control, in a strange, roundabout sort of way, she made a clicking sound accompanied by a disapproving little shake of her head. Again, designed to infuriate, to drain the control from the situation. It was all smoke and mirrors. Samantha was clearly in control. Ilse was bound, gagged. She had no cards left to play.

But antisocial personality disorder, mixed with narcissistic tendencies, especially with someone who clearly had a violent temper, while frightening, could also be exploited. Killers were not self-controlled individuals. They lacked self-control at their very core. They directed it toward a single outlet, often enough. And many of them, to the surprise of most of the public, could delay gratification, blending in like a chameleon.

But once they removed their masks, it was like an actor stepping center stage, basking in the limelight.

And in so doing, they felt their afforded and required response would be one of awe and fear. But if a narcissist wasn’t greeted with the emotion they expected, it could gnaw at the very thing they guarded most about themselves. Their ego. Their control.

But this wasn’t enough. Simply shaking her head, leaning back, posturing herself wouldn’t do anything. Ilse also needed the gag removed. Which was why she was speaking. Not in an obnoxious, challenging sort of way. That would’ve only seen her beaten. Pain was an easy enough tool. Everyone caved under it eventually to varying degrees.

This time, she inflected her voice. Again, through the gag, it was nearly impossible to voice words. She was even running out of breath now, feeling her throat rattle as she spoke. But she tilted the words toward the end of the sentence up, now, inflecting them as questions, and tilting her chin, as if waiting for a response.