She turned to face me, her palms were outward, tilted up, a gesture of her goodwill? I slowly closed the gap between us, her back was facing a large bank of sealed windows, her only way out, the door to her left. I studied her face, watching how her eyes darted between me and her escape. Stupid girl. She always wanted more options than she was provided. Always wanted to create something that wasn’t there.

I watched her body coil, like a spring, it spoke just when it was ready to let go. When she ran, I was there, my hands wrapping around and jerking back on the same length of black silk in which I had, long ago, lost myself. She cried out and fell to her knees, her head tilted at a painful angle because of my grip. I had her.

It was with a great deal of personal satisfaction that I wound my fingers tighter and slowly forced her to rise again. I felt her hair snapping in my grip, twisted it even more until she let out a pained sound much like a wounded animal. I moved closer to her, my hand controlling every single movement of her head, I could almost feel her heartbeat echo down each strand, the tension making them vibrate like strings on a violin.

‘I-I’ll be good.’ The words were whispered softly into the air. Her hands fluttered around my fist, afraid to touch my hand, unable to stop herself from wanting to be free. She whined softly, as if each intake of breath cost her. I pulled up and she dropped them again, but they were restless, moving helplessly, unable to attack, but wanting to hold onto something, anything. I moved against her back, my free hand sliding around her waist, splaying over the thin cotton of her t-shirt, I could feel her muscles shift with each subtle movement of my hand, jump and jerk. Her breath suspended for brief moments before she forced herself to breathe again.

I tilted her head to one side, moving us both towards the wall in front of us. My voice was soft in her ear, my breath on her neck, raising a ripple of goosebumps as I spoke. ‘Yes, you will be, Annerire.’ My fingers dug into her belly slightly. ‘You are here to entertain me, cunt. You are my toy, at my will, and if you don’t learn, and learn well, I’ll leave your ass rotting in some gutter.’

She sobbed just as I pushed her against the wall, her palms were curled into the plaster as if she thought to keep herself grounded. Her eyes were closed, tears streaked down her face. I knew she believed me, I had never made any effort to hide my business or nature from her at any time before. I slowly eased my grip from her hair and some of the pained tension of her shoulders lessened. I shook the stray strands free and united my hands on her stomach. My chin rested on her shoulder, I could smell her skin, her breath, and slowly allowed the anger to ebb away for a moment.

It was then she pushed back, her palms striking the wall and shoving back, push us both away. I swayed slightly on my heels rocking backward. She tried to run, but fell in the tangled mess of our legs. She struck the floor and I reacted angrily. My foot sank into the soft tender flesh of her waist and she screamed, rolling into a ball before straightening out, her hands pressed against her side for a long moment before she tried to sit up and only fell back against the floor.

My movements were jerky, fueled by another dose of adrenaline and rage. I crouched down, one knee to the floor, my fingers digging into my pocket, pulling out the switchblade I always carry. It flicked into place with the sound of metal on metal. The sound stopped her movements dead cold and she stopped breathing when I place the edge of it to her throat, pressing in until I could feel the flesh start to yield under the honed edge. My other hand settled to hold one of her wrists to the floor by her head.

I drew it down slowly, pressing the point in just enough to make a dotted line form on her flesh from her neck to collar of her tshirt. I lifted the edge with the tip of the blade and looked at her face again, her eyes were wide, doe-like. I could smell the fear that poured off of her, the uncertainty. I could kill her, she knew, but I think she feared more what I could do to her that she would survive. She’d seen the photo album I keep of my better work.

She opened her mouth and started to speak but the words were muffled by my palm. ‘Enough of your lies.’ I placed my other knee on the floor and moved over her, it was easy, she still remembered to respect the knife if not the bearer. I settled one knee on either side of her legs and leaned forward until my mouth hovered over her face, still covered by my hand. ‘You’d have me believe you were the Virgin reborn.’ I tilted the blade and the fabric of her shirt yielded.

‘But I have already taken care of that minor detail, haven’t I?’