A life with sight is a life with pain. That's what he would tell me. Every day, as I sat crying through what once were real eyes; he would tell me that. And I began to believe him. It had been three long years since I was last able to see, and with each day I began to appreciate the gift he gave me more. I had been so angry with him when he had taken me from society and locked me here, but he opened my eyes to the cruelty of the world, and how I was better off here whilst he went to deal with the demons. As my eyes had been opened, however, I let them stray too much; so I had to be punished. Punished? he told me. No, child, I am taking a punishment away from you. You do not wish to see what it is I have to do!. And every day since, a life with sight is a life with pain, he would say as he drained his bottle and the rest howled in the night. At least, I would believe it to be night, as so I was told. Sun was not felt, for we were not to be poisoned; no, we remain here, where we become a betterment to the world. And now I believe. And now I see. My captivator has become my obsession; my life; my God.