“You’re a monster.” She spat at him, fighting against her restraints. “I thought you preferred me, this way,” he smiled, playing with her curls.
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With tears streaming down her face, she cried out, “You can’t keep me here.”
He stopped playing with her hair, and began lightly tracing her lips, with his cold smooth fingers, “Oh, I can and will, little one.”
“They’ll be looking for me,” she hissed.
He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Yes dearest, I’m counting on it; and when they find you, you’ll be a monster just like me.”
Kim V. Poetry 