It was so dark and humid and I hate it so much, I end up hugging Leo’s arm for safety. Then, out of nowhere, candles starts to light up everywhere—here and there, and it leads our way. This is odd…

Leo is acting weird too. He’s not his usual scaredy-cat self, he shows a lot of confidence and no signs of hesitance as he walk down the corridor, leading my way slowly as we arrive to a candle lit room.

There were people. Everywhere. They’re tied to the chair, chained to the wall, weighed to the floor…. No, wait. They’re not just people. These are the people I knew!

I feel my knees grow weak at the grotesque image in front of me, and before I knew it, Leo is carrying me in his arms as he walks me down the room. Mark and his crew, weighed to the floor. Mark’s girlfriend and her groupie, chained to the wall. My old ballet teacher… the erted sport teacher…. The bullies in my school. Everyone. They’re here. Not a single one of them is in one piece. Everyone is bruised, bleeding, and limp. I’m not even sure if all their body parts are still intact with all these blood puddles on the floor.

Leo walked fast, and he sat me down on a chair at a heightened platform at the end of the room, giving me a full view of what’s inside the room. I’m no longer scared, I’m more of relieved. Seeing all the people who caused me pain, now they’re squirming in pain and they can only manage to whisper my name in low, miserable voices. They can no longer harm me. They can no longer intimidate me!!

They shall now cower in fear as they call my name. MY NAME!

“C-count… one, two…” A voice whisper next to my ear. It was raspy and dry, but I know whose voice it was.

“Leo?” I looked up to him in disbelief. He can speak….?

“Count….” He insisted, as he somehow suddenly shrunk back to his usual shy and timid self. Okay, I will count.

“One… two…” I start. Mark and three more guys, his gang. That makes four. Mark’s girlfriend and two alike of her, her groupie. That makes six. My ballet teacher. My sports teacher. Eight.

“eight…” I mumble lowly as I keep on counting these squirming, whining subjects.

My current school’s bullies. Eleven.

“eleven?” I looked up to him. He shook his head, then point to the last corner, just beside us.

My father’s mistress…. And the last figure is…

It can’t be.

Oh, it can’t be.

But there is no mistake to it, it must be him.

OH, IT’S HIM!