Oh, that's a loaded question. Did I regret not telling her? ... Yes and no. If I told her then she would have worried, but maybe things wouldn't have happened the way they did if I had told her. I don't know. No, she never questioned the ring. She's blind, she can't see it. When she can actually see she's not looking at my hands. That's a dumb question. I think he was stalking me for a long time before it happened. He knew where I was, he was just waiting for his perfect opportunity to strike. And strike he did. The situation is still under investigation and I've been told not to release any details but ... this is my story and I'm going to tell it. This happened to me. This is my horror.

Artemis was at the house and I was on my way to work. I had walked through the alleyway as I always do when he jumped me. He knocked me down and put his knee on my neck so I couldn't move. He held a rag over my nose and mouth until I passed out. When I woke up I was back at our old home together, in the same basement I had escaped from. He tortured me worse than ever before. He broke my bones and cut me deep. He didn't care if I died. Maybe he wanted me to die. I don't know. I was in that hell hole for two months before I got a break.

Miguel was playing with a knife bloodied with my injuries. There was still blood on his arm from where it had dripped down the handle. I remember the first thing I heard were sirens. So many sirens. They were so loud. And then beating on the door upstairs. Miguel told me not to move or make a sound and placed the knife down on the floor. I was tied up so its not like his words really had any meaning. I think he was mocking me. He answered the door and the police burst through almost knocking him down. They cuffed him before he could even ask what was happening. I started screaming at the top of my lungs for them to come rescue me. My chest ached from the lack of oxygen. They stormed the entire house before finding me in the basement.

"I found her, she's alive!" A sound that has never been so welcome. A man in full riot gear came rushing down the stairs to free me. His voice sounded familiar but I couldn't remember why at the time. He untied me and brought me outside to the ambulance. I watched as they loaded Miguel into the police car. He glared at me with dead glazed over eyes. I asked the officer how they had found me and it was so much more than I had expected.

He explained to me that reports of me missing had reached the city where we used to live and he had recognized me as Miguel's wife. While that wasn't enough evidence to warrant the raid, they weren't actually there just for me. There were reports of another woman going missing only a couple of houses down. A pungent sickly sweet odor had escaped from the shed out back and one of the neighbors called in with suspicions of murder. Apparently Miguel had a body in the freezer with the head rotting away in the shed. He was being charged with murder and kidnapping and torture.

I don't care. This is my story and I won't back down. What are they going to do? Arrest me for telling it? I ... that's another hard question to answer. I'm not particularly sad or disappointed but ... I don't know what the emotion I feel is. I'm just happy they found me, even if they weren't looking for me specifically. I'm sorry that it took another girls life for him to be put away. No. It's not guilt. We both fell for his silver tongue. I tried to warn people, nobody listened. I didn't know her.