Hilde sits in a pitch-dark seller, hands and feet tied behind her back. She can't see a thing.
After a long and agonizing wait, the door opens. Somebody enters the room and closes the door again.
Hilde feels her heart beating in her throat. She knows what's coming.
She hears the sound of high heels on the concrete floor followed by a whiplash.
Bright spotlights suddenly shine in Hilde's eyes.
Mistress Evita leans over her and utters in a cold voice: "START TALKING"
Hilde grits her teeth...
OMG I have no words. Have you forgotten it was you who attacked me in the first place? I have been on the defensive this whole time!
You're sounding like a head principle telling a naughty kid off.
No, I'm not. Am I? I just want everything to go back to normal. Is that too much to ask?
I am rude at times.
Not like this.
We can't all be as perfect as you.
And again you go with the attacks - first by implying that I'm perfect (which we all know that I'm not) and second by implying that it's bad to be perfect. Why must I defend myself to you? I'm getting sick of it.