He punched the thick mattress on his bed. It still hurt. A shriek echoed in his room. If this was freedom, he thought, it would scare his guts to find out what bondage was like.

What happened to me? I was never like this. I could paint well. Heck, I painted well. And now I can’t. I just can’t. Am I the same guy?

‘No, you are not,’ He smiled. ‘I trapped you… finally!’

That wasn’t possible. He was not the one who could be contained. Not by anything. Not by anybody. Not even by Him.

‘That’s the trick,’ He said. ‘I can’t bind you; not physically I mean. But your mind… ah, that I can! Just one thought, one small germ of a thought, and I don’t have to do anything else.’

Was that it? Was it all that was stopping him? No, it can’t be!

‘It isn’t. Denial is very much a part of it, an important one.’

And he couldn’t take it anymore.