Authors note: this fictional story takes place at the time of the early 1900's; for less confusion, the story is told through the eyes of both the protagonist and antagonist.
Other stories/poems of reference: "The cask of Amontillado" by: Edgar Allan Poe

I refused to admit defeat, defeat to a mere child of fifteen, a child whose tongue as sharp as steel. She may own the estate but I am the caretaker. The girl fought hard, grabbing and jerking with all her strength, younger and more agile she was, yet I, larger and wiser as I think. With a the flow of my stick she fell to the ground, I no longer have use of her, and with that, her body I dragged down, down deep below the cold shelters of the cellar, where she shall die of cold, and her body be fed on by the rats, there she shall dwell and may eternal sleep find her there. Her body I left behind the cold brick doors, dark and cold she shall see no light. There behind the cellar walls, she shall find her peace.

Awake, I came welcomed by velvet darkness, alone I stood my feet bare, stripped of the cotton and leather of my shoes and socks. Who does she think she is? It is my estate and I power, yet the foolish old hag dare confine me. Ugly, old and bulky she is, the beast I say. I screamed and shout, kicked and push through the unknown wall that keeps me from light. I hear and feel, rats, insects of all kind scurry about me, there is no telling where I am. My fingers and hands, cold, bruised and bloodied from endless tries to scratch, I feel the cold liquid flow down from fingertip to palm. Death will claim me.

Libera me, Domine de morte aeterna, libera me domine. .Lord, deliver me from death ever lasting, deliver me lord.

Seven years, seven years of no food, water or shelter from the cold, I came down to see her on her death, as expected I foreseen ahead of time that her body would be of no more, breaking open the brick walls, I smelled no smell, and there her body lay, a mess, yet so fresh it still looked, her eyes . Where were her eyes?! the rats have fed on it, her hair disarrayed, the once shinny blonde was no more, but dull and dead. Yet her skin, not so .it looked alive. But I was so sure, was dead. Her finger tips drenched in blood, skin was gone, finger nails were torn, how pathetic and sickening she looked, alas I needed to clean out, her body I dragged, well into the night, her body again I hid, buried within shallow grave. I made my way back, to clean the house and her 'chamber', to rid the house of all her existence. I screamed. The . was it the remains of body. The room was immediately filled with a stink, a stink so vile and disgusting, the smell of rotting , the smell of blood and rotten corpse. I stepped back, shocked to disbelief, I slipped, and something rolled from behind peered back at emerald globes stared emerald eyes! .eyes. I screamed and ran, I hit something, cannot brick wall, the cellar, I have been trapped within my own within the darkness. Screaming, and scratching, I felt it be?.her own starch marks?. Blood started to poured out like rain above can this be?. Slowly I felt weak, weaker and weaker.I was now bleeding from my waist down.a fresh cut has been who?.I cannot die, not here not now.I have my .
The miser though to keep his gold as shield from the coming cold, but what cared death for mortal gain?.he smiled upon the miser's pain.