She quietly waited for his reply.  She didn't know why she was doing this.  But she was opening up like a flower and she couldn't stop it.  The deep red of her heart would be showing soon.  Anyone who wanted could just tear it from her chest.  When she heard his steady sure she opened her eyes and looked at him for a couple of seconds before opening her mouth.<br/><br/>"I lived with a street family for the first part of my life.  When I was three my mother was killed by drug dealers.  I sat close to her while the men cut her hair, raped her, and then stabbed her thirty times in the stomach.  She was six months pregnant.  They took me and kept me for two years.  Most days I was hungry.  They fed me table scraps like a dog.  I was often chained to the kitchen table leg.  When I was five they sold me to a man who I only knew then as Father.  I was kept in a closet and fed once a day.  When Father wanted to play he would get me from my closet and take me down to the basement.  He would do horrible things to me down there.  There were even a few of these things there.  A table with straps, a chair with straps, whips, gags, and other equally unpleasant things.  If I was good in playtime I was allowed to roam the house freely.  After he took me to play he would read to me from the bible telling me that if I confessed my sins to the lord he would forgive me for seducing him.  One day when I was 10 I'd been good during play so I was aloud free for the day.  When I was in the kitchen I took a large knife and hid it in my clothes.  When it was time for play the next day I went willingly.  After he closed the door I pushed him down the stairs.  He hit the bottom with a dull thud.  I walked down and found he was still alive at the bottom.  I began to mutilate him, torturing him for hours.  I cut out his tongue, all of his fingers, and the cruel thing in his pants that had hurt me more than anything else he'd ever used on me before I finally cut his throat.  Then I took his bible and tore all the pages out.  Suddenly I realized that I was a bloody mess.  I ran upstairs and grabbed the phone.  If I even looked at the phone and he saw me, he would beat me badly.  But I grabbed it and dialed 911, I learned that number from watching TV when I lived with the drug dealers.  When it was answered all I did was whimper, the lady on the other end said that help was on the way.  This scared me and I hung it up.  I didn't know what I'd done, I hadn't seen another human in the five years that I'd been living there.  I ran to the closet and curled up into a ball and cried until the police arrived and found me.  I was taken to a childrens hospital, where I was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia, then at 18 I was transfered to a state run asylum and now I'm here."<br/><br/>She fell quiet.  Her head hurt slightly.  She thought she would cry but her face was stern and dry.  She looked the doctor in the eyes.