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-Do not post here-

I'm keeping all the information from the intro here for future reference. The front page will be revamped with current info ^^



Some people like to collect things. Bottle caps, stamps, pretty rocks, ticket stubs, masks, paintings, and all types of other things. But then again, some people have tastes for strong stuff. Like people. Who doesn't like people? So why not collect all those amazingly wonderful creatures? A tantalizingly decadent idea, no? But it seems to be foolishly deviant from how collections are supposed to be. It could never happen. Right?

But ah, it can. It has. It happens now, in these moments. A man, one that you might not even imagine to be such a villain. A man, a rich one that runs a quaint little shop. Behind it lays his extravagant house. Almost Victorian in style. Looking at him, meeting him, could you see what skeletons lay in his closet? or more like, what living breathing bodies are huddled in his basement at the very moment you meet him.

There are six. Three girls, Three boys. All from the ages of fifteen to twenty. They were selected for different reasons. They were alluring, appealing to the man, their emotions, he wished so badly to break them. So he took them. Skillfully. Parents, relatives, friends don't know what became of the boy or girl.

It has been a month since the last one was obtained. An equilibrium has been achieved. Since then the children have either attempted vainly to escape, or have given up on their hope of ever getting out. For some, plots are flying back and forth. For other, madness is setting in. Everyone is loosing their grip, their minds, and their sanity.

Well, everyone but the collector. He's having great fun with his toys, watching how they work, taking control of their strings. Depending on his mood, he could be kind or utterly destructive. And sometimes the lines blur. Sometimes he lets them into the upper levels of his home, and sometimes he feeds them. Sometimes he ignores them for days on end, sometimes he gives them all his attention. Just because.



It is a very unstable life. Painful, hungry, cold. Scary. They need to get out, but there seems to be no way. The door to the basement is locked, and anyone who even dreams of escape might receive brutal punishment. Or just punishment for no apparent reason, for that matter. And they are weak. Lack of nutrition and exercise leave a body wasted. Escape seems to only be a dream. but it doesn't stop some of them from dreaming and plotting.

Of course danger can also come from not only the collector, but the other prisoners as well. Tensions run higher as some lose their minds. Tempers may snap. Emotions could break. Will the alliances between the 'toys,' the 'collector's items,' hold? Will everything crumble?

Will the collector win?



The basement isn't actually all that bad. Just cold. And a bit dark. And cramped. And dirty. Okay, so it is pretty bad. Never mind that then. Anyway, everyone has their own quarters in the stone basement. They line three out of the four walls. Each room has a cot and a plastic toilet. Each cot has a single blanket. each room had a door without a handle, that can be pushed open from wither direction.

In the center of the basement, where all the rooms open up to, is a courtyard type space. There isn't anything there but stone. A naked bulb hangs from the high ceiling. each room has a bulb too, but they all have secure coverings over them. There is no way to turn them on or off inside the basement, but there is a switch outside the door leading down, so the collector can turn it on or off at any time he desires.

--

The layout of the basement is simple. The first two are on the right wall, the second two are on the back wall, and the third two are on the left wall. The stairwell is front and center.

...................v Stairwell
_________---------___________
l.......................................l
l.......................................l
\. <---Boy 3's..................../<-Girl 1's
l.......................................l
l.......................................l
\.<----Girl 3's ..................../<-Boy 1's
l.......................................l
l______\__________\________l
Girl 2's.^............^..Boy 2's.





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Rules:

I will not reserve spots. The best profiles will get the spots. Things that make a profile great are as follows: following the guidelines, typing engaging, interesting answers, having an interesting character, giving your best, making sure there are little to no spelling/grammar errors.

Also, if you want to put your best foot forward, I would suggest showing that you have potential to make this roleplay great. That would mean being useful. Do you have a plot idea you think you and your character could use to make this whole thing that much more interesting? Then use it! Send me a PM explaining your idea. It will make me consider your character more. Because it isn't just about the characters. it is about what the characters do too. I would probably pick a mediocre character with a stellar plot twist than a stellar character with no clue what to do. Just to let you all know.

If you wish to become one of my chickadees and participate in this roleplay, you'd do best not to make me angry. That means when you post you make sure that you do not god-mod, you do not have too many glaring spelling/grammar mistakes, you keep to the plot, you don't do something wild/weird/crazy like completely destroy the plot foundation or explode everyone, you make the post an acceptable length, adding details wherever you can, and you post frequently.

We have a one post per player per day limit, just so we don't have any little groups running off and swamping the rest of us. This roleplay will have a medium to slow pace, but I want everyone to hang around, and I need dedicated players. Even though There is a good chance that you won't post everyday, or maybe even every other day, I still like correspondence. We're all friends here :3

Tick...toc....tick....toc...

A half an hour past 8:00 P.M. Cyrus's parents left at eight, and the baby sitter would have gotten settled by now. He had given the parents plenty of time to come back in case they forgot something, but now it was time to act. A smile graced his lips. And so it was time to finally pounce on his prey. And oh how kind it was for Cyrus's parents to give him that pretty little girl as a bonus. She would work nicely as an escape plan. It was like they had done half of his planning for him. He'd have to leave them some sort of present... maybe a lock of the woman's hair for the cops. Or maybe nothing at all. It was always more fun when they didn't have a clue.

Damian whistled to himself as he walked right up to the house and slid his key into door and stepped inside of the house. Ah the perks of being the boy's tutor. He pulled on his gloves as if he it was just another day at the office and strolled to the T.V. Room. The baby sitter was sitting on the couch just as he suspected. He silently walked up behind her like a panther stalking its prey and quickly placed a hand against her mouth and shoved her down on the couch. She tried to scream and fight against him, but Damian wasn't having any of that.

“shhhh, shhhh,” he cooed to her as if she were his greatest love. “You'll only make it harder on yourself, dear,” he cooed to her and took out a knife. She screamed but it was muffled. He cut some of her hair and put it in his pocket before he gave her a smile. “Good night.” With one quick movement, he snapped her neck and she was still. He took the hair and made a point to leave a trail of strands on the stairs leading down from Cyrus's room. Then he cut a small would in her arm and smeared the knob of the stairs; almost unnoticeable. He even left a couple of strings to make it look like the baby sitter had dragged Cyrus away. Then he picked up the woman's body almost as if he was carrying his sleeping lover and with one quick look around, dropped her in the trunk.

Now came the best part. Taking his prize.

He disheveled his appearance and made a point to smash a few things leading to the door. He put away the gloves and checked his watch. And Cyrus should be wondering frantically what the smashing noise was... now he was going to go to the door. He banged a few things for another round of 'struggling' before he rushed up the stairs and shoved Cyrus's door open. He watched as the young boy scrambled back and hit the ground.

A horrified look crossed Damian's face and he mimicked fear and urgency like the pro actor he was. “Cyrus!” he cried. “Cyrus, we need to get you out of here. Clare has gone insane! I came in to check on you and she attacked me!” he lied. “I managed to fight her off and she ran, but I need to get you somewhere safe. She'll come back for you!” he said rapidly, disorienting the boy with his urgency. He grabbed his hand and ran down the steps and all but shoved him into the passenger seat before he drove off towards his home. “You'll be safe with me. I am going to call the police and then your parents.” He shook his head. “I told your mother she was a bad egg,” he said sadly. “I knew you didn't like her and I could sense it,” he said. He quickly pulled into the drive way of his home and helped his newest doll into the house. “You will be safe with me,” he cooed with a charming smile. “Nothing will hurt you here, Cyrus.” He lead him deeper and deeper into the house until he reached the end of a hall. He pressed a spot on the wall and a door slid open; ah he loved secret rooms. “You'll be sleeping in here,” he said, a voice turning thick with glee.

“Welcome home,” he cooed before his grip tightened and he shoved Cyrus into a cell. His grin darkened and the light in his eyes turned all but savage. “We are going to have lots of fun, won't we? Yes, yes we will. You're mine now, my precious, precious doll.”

Damian closed the door quickly and locked Cyrus in the room before he walked back up the stairs and the wall closed up behind him; hiding the three, no, four, little dolls in his basement. Now to dispose of the body. He'd chop the baby sitter up into bits and feed her to the dogs he had in the back. That way the police would never find the body and they'd assume she was the one responsible for Cyrus's capture.

Doll # 1: Macallister

Damian sighed as he filed the papers on his desk. Booorrring. He was getting tired of this counselor gig he never qualified for to begin with. Soon. He just needed to hang on a little longer. After he ensnared Mac, he'd be able to politely quit the counselor position and move on to bigger, better things. He ran a hand through his dark hair and looked out across the courtyard. He was tired of listening to children complain about their bland lives. Humans really were sheep that flocked and bleated but never did anything useful.

Ah, there was his target. He gave a predatory smile as he watched him. Little Mac. Such a heart beneath the mask of depression, exaggerated excitement, and anger. The boy was plagued by the fact that he was bipolar; a subject that rather fascinated him. The boy could have a backbone, but he always seemed to allow everyone to bully him until he snapped. He wanted to test that to the limit. How far would the boy snap? How much of his personality was his own, and how much was the disorder? Was it all the same?

Speaking of being bullied, the trio was at it again, beating and teasing the boy. His eyes narrowed. Mac was his; he wouldn't let these juveniles take away his prize or his fun. Damian left his office quickly and easily came to aid Mac; something he did rather often.

“That's enough,” he said in a deathly tone to the bullies. “Get out of here before I have you three suspended,” he growled.

When the boys departed, Damian turned his eyes on Mac. His demeanor softened as he helped the boy grab his things. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. Oh, the boy had a bruise on his face. He lifted Mac's chin and gently caressed the bruise and then wiped the blood off the corner of Mac's lip. Red was a rather nice color on Mac's face. He looked forward to seeing him stained in it. The fire of excitement filled him then; it was the only 'emotion' he felt. He didn't consider it an emotion though. It was just a bodily reaction.

“Those boys are always picking on you. We need to put a stop to that. Are you alone? You look like you need to chat. Tell you what, I'll take you to my house and we can continue talking about your problems and find a solution to all of this. I hate seeing you bruised and beaten boy these kids,” he cooed softly. Now it was finally time to take his prize. He had groomed the boy for long enough.

“O-Okay... Thank you Mr. Rothchild,” Mac answered him and began to follow after him.

Damian grinned as he led the scared and bruised boy to his car and then to his home. “I'll make you some tea and I do have some cookies if you want some. Then we can have a nice little chat by the fire. Just put your stuff down by the door.”

“Thanks again.”

“It is no trouble at all.”

Damian went to the kitchen and made good on his word and brought him the tea and cookies. Damian sat down beside his prey and listened to the boy spill his guts all over again. He patted the boy's back or hugged him, trying to be the supportive adult figure the boy needed. When the boy calmed down again, Damian lifted the boy's face and gave a small smile. Those tearful eyes... he loved it. He almost leaned in to taste those salty drops, but he resisted his temptation.

“Come on, Mac, let's get you to my guest room. You can take a nap and then I'll take you home.”

He lead Mac down the hall and to the wall that he opened to reveal a door. Once it was open, he grabbed Mac's hand gently and led him down the stairs. He heard Mac gasp when he saw the cold dark basement and tried to tug and pull away.

“Welcome to your new home, Mac. No one else is going to touch you ever. You are mine,” he laughed. Mac tried to run up the stairs and get out again but Damian pinned Mac against the wall tightly. He caressed his face before he leaned in and finally let himself lick the residual tears. “I look forward to seeing you cry for me,” he whispered.

“Let me go!” the boy cried but Damian kept him still. He loved the struggling.

He was just like that little buck he had killed on his first hunt; only this was so much better. “You've taught me so much, Mac. Now you'll teach me what pain and fear truly is and I'll relish your blood and tears.”

He leaned forward again and kissed the boy's lips. When Mac bit him, his eyes narrowed and darkened in excitement. “The more you struggle, the more I want you,” he chuckled before he sucked on the boy's throat, leaving a claiming mark before he pulled away and shoved the boy down the stairs and watched him roll down to the bottom. “I am afraid that our playtime is over for now. I've got a few things to take care of.”

Damian closed the door and locked it. He heard Mac cry out for help and bang on the door and only laughed. The wall sealed shut; locking the boy's cries within the basement. Damian put on his gloves and picked up the boy's bag. It was time to make it look like Mac had run away from the pain of school and bullies. He couldn't let everyone think he took the boy after all. That would ruin all his fun.

He drove to Mac's area and parked a distance away before he stealthily made it to the house. No one was home yet. He took Mac's key and entered the house with ease. He dumped all the school books on the counter and started to throw in canned food, a few clothes, bottles of water, and other things needed for survival into the bag and made it look as hasty and frantic as he could before he zipped up the bag again and left the house and locked it again. He hurried to his car and threw the bag in the passenger seat before he drove off. He was getting giddy. He couldn't wait to return home and start playing with his new toy. The hunger for the hunt hadn't left him since the night he had killed his own stalker. He was finally giving in to his desires.

Damian drove into the woods before he opened the bag and popped a can open. That should get the wolves and other animals to come and rip the bag open and get at the other food. Then the police would think the animals ate Mac. With his plan set, he drove back home and returned to Mac's side.

Where did they go? Belinda wondered with great concern, looking around the crowd of people, all employees during their lunch shift. She could feel panic beginning to rise in her core as she scanned the crowd several times over, never finding those whom she seeks. Just a moment ago her friends had been there with her, laughing and joking. She had stopped for a moment to admire a grand piano in the window of a music shop, but they apparently hadn't noticed her stop. That was reasonable, because she had been somewhat quiet for the past week, as she tends to get whenever the weather is too, well, nice. They were in the middle of a heated conversation about theories they had for the newest companion for some scifi show about a time traveler, and Belinda's friends were certainly the type to lose track of everything else when they began to fangirl about things. The young woman may have slightly smiled at the thought of their excitable natures, were fear not building in her at being left alone in the crowded part of town. She became hypersensitive to every single male person around her, not given her friends as a buffer, from the little boy who just dropped his ice cream, to the middle-aged pan-handler on the other side of the street. People brushed past her as they continued on their way with purpose, most not noticing the flushed face and upward eyes of the girl with the auburn hair.

She kept her eyes upward to avoid looking at people, and slowly began to make her way to be pressed against the store side of the street, as though she could simply fade into the glass and find sanctuary within the quaint shops of the downtown area. One person did notice the girl though, a sympathetic elderly man. He was impeccably dressed, in a three-piece suit and an overcoat to keep out the lingering chill of early spring. A gentle face and warm blue eyes should have made him seem harmless and trustworthy to most people, but all she could see is his gender, and the way that his blue eyes were remnant of those described by the narrator of 'The Tell-Tale Heart'. Vulture eyes, she remembered, shrinking further against the glass and squeezing her fingernails into her soft palms. He walked up to her with a comforting smile, having only good intentions as he asked, "Are you lost? Do you need help?" Belinda only stared up at him, silently pleading that he would leave her alone, but her expression was not clear enough, and he only seemed more concerned.

"Are you al-" he had begun the question while reaching out to touch her forearm, but was cut off when she suddenly squeaked and pushed the elderly man away. Fragile with age, he stumbled back and fell down, crying out with the pain of it and drawing attention from other people. Some knelt down to help him, others watched silently, and those leftover stared accusingly at Belinda, having witnessed her pushing him away. She paled significantly, and acted on the 'fight or flee' instinct by darting away, rushing through the crowd until she found a familiar alleyway and turned down it.

What the sweet, frightened, child didn't realize was that she had been followed. The silly thing had run away from friendly hands and help. The predator couldn't attack when it was crowded after all. She had gone right into his territory and there wasn't much option for escape now. Pitty; she wouldn't have shied away from the old man had she known the trouble she was about to get into. Damian of course, couldn't be happier. It was about time the girl was alone. He had never known someone to always be around others like this little doe.

Damian clung to the shadows and followed her footsteps so his would not be heard. When the girl took a wrong turn, he hurried closer. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled free the little cloth filled with chloroform. Before the girl could turn around or so much as shriek, Damian lunged forward and pulled her against him, the cloth firmly in place across her mouth and nose so it was the only thing she could inhale. He felt her chest expand as she inhaled deeply, trying to scream.

"Shh.. i've got you, pet," he cooed softly and watched as her eyes roll back and she fell against him. He pocketed the cloth and pulled the young woman into his arms. She was such a pretty little thing. Damian carried his doll through the alley and into his backyard. He was rather pleased with this hunt. Unlike the others, he wouldn't have to fabricate some elaborate scene to point the figures away from him. He had never discussed with this child, never approached her or anything. She had simply vanished in an alley. This was probably his easiest catch yet. He still liked the thrill of luring his prey closer though.

Damian entered his house and sat her down on his couch and caressed her face softly before he kissed her temple. "You are so pretty," he cooed softly. "And so fascinating... you are afraid of men. I wonder why. You'll tell me in time, won't you, my pretty?" he grinned. He ran his hand over her skin softly and ran his fingers through her hair to comb it back. He didn't much like toying with prey that was unresponsive, so he'd have to postpone his fun until later. The young man sat down across from her and sipped some of his water while he waited. He wondered what delicious reaction she would have when she awoke.

It was a little while before she moaned and started to move a little lethargically, eyes wandering without aim or comprehension. He grinned against his cup and walked over to her. When her eyes landed on him, terror filled her. He couldn't help but chuckle and pin down her weaker form as she thrashed and struggled, screaming.

"It is no use, my sweet. No one is going to hear you." He tangled his free hand in her hair and tugged a little to pull her head back and kissed her again. "I saw the way you pushed the old man... the way you interact with your male family members and all other males around you. I find you rather fascinating. You have quite the story to tell me. I wonder how long it will take me to break you," he smiled sweetly, as if he were speaking the mos adoring things. He let his hands wander her form and felt her shiver and whine. "Hm, I wonder if you were raped. Who dared touch you, my sweet? I'll take revenge for you. No one is allowed to touch what is mine.

"But before I do that, I want you to meet my other little dolls. It will give you a taste of what you are in for."

Damian tied her wrists and feet then and hauled her up on his shoulder and headed for his collection room as he had begun to call it. He almost gently plopped her down on the bottom stair before he hurried back out of the room and locked it.

Doll # 2: Aspen

Damian watched the pretty little rose. He had been tracking this young doe for a little while now. Oh, the poor thing lost her sister not too long ago and she was quite literally the talk of the town. It was rather easy to collect information about her. Aspen. Aspen Carter. Age 16 and has a recently deceased sister and an over bearing mother. The woman protected her youngest child like a bear now. It was rather hard to get to her without the woman getting in the way. Unfortunately it seemed that he wouldn't be able to groom this child like he had Mac.

The young man clung to the shadows as he stared into the house, looking for the perfect time to strike. He was tired of chasing rumors and watching from afar. He was itching for his next doll. Mac was fun to play with, yes, but he needed something more. He was starting to get bored with Mac. Maybe having a new toy would help him. He was still a little too fond of his first prize to get rid of him.

Damian threaded his gloved fingers together as he waited. He heard the woman say she was going shopping. That meant Aspen was finally going to be alone. An old fashion break in would be nice. He hadn't slipped into someone's house in a while. He grinned as his eyes trailed after the woman until she got into her car and left. Now he just needed to wait a little longer before he snatched the pretty little Aspen. She was such a stubborn thing. And determined.

Just when he was about to go about slipping in, he saw his treasure waltz right out into the street. Oh, she was making it even easier on him. How nice of her. He was going to have to make sure she got a treat for this. Oh, but what would he give her? Some flowers? A good feast or two? Some undivided attention? Oh, so many different options. But, that was for later thought. Right now he needed to think about being unseen and unheard by the girl and the passerby. Oh, where was his little rose leading him? He hoped she didn't go somewhere too populated.

Damian followed the girl all the way to the park and looked around. Thankfully, no one was around since it was raining. Hardly perfect weather for playing in the sand after all. He broke out into a wider smile. Bad time for playing, but amazing for a kidnapping. Oh woe, the poor woman who would now loose both of her daughters. She should have taken better care of her treasure. So much for a bear of a mother.

The young man watched Aspen as she sat down on the swing and started her lonely swaying. Damian silently walked forward and started to reach his hands out. Oh! The girl was much more perceptive than he realized. She was turning around. So much for a surprise. Damian rushed forward and pulled the girl's back against his chest and clamped her mouth shut with his hand. There may not be people around, but a scream was far reaching. Damn! He left the cloth in his pocket when he reached for her. His grasp tightened around her as he quickly let go of her mouth and reached into his pocket.

Unfortunately it gave her enough time for a scream and a thrashing. Damian covered her mouth again with the cloth this time and watched as she went limp in his arms. Not the perfect capture, but not too bad for his second hunt. He knew that with every hunt he went on, he'd get better and better. Every hunter had their blunders after all, and each one was a matter of life and death. At least he won. He would be... oh, what is that emotion he heard about? Ah, anger. He'd be... angry if he had made his mistake and lost his prize along with it.

Damian pulled the little girl into his arms and looked around before he hurried away and covered his tracks. He took the girl into his home and was quick to change her into a very pretty little dress he bought especially for her before he pulled on some dry clothes as well. He got a fire going in the fireplace and made sure she was warm with the blankets tucked around her.

Once she was warm again, he lifted her from the couch and took her to his bed where he lay her down softly; almost lovingly. Then he cuffed her. As a present, he'd let her sleep in his bed for a few days where it was nice, comfortable, and warm. She'd get all of his attention for a little while. Mac had enough alone time with him after all. Mac would just have to wait and stifle his quivering jealousy.

Damian lay down beside Aspen and caressed her face softly. He wondered how long she'd keep her determination and stubbornness surfaced. Would she break easily? Strong will power and personality had always been fascinating to him. Some humans were weak, and other strong. That difference was something he was sure he was going to solve with his little collection of dolls. He knew his... 'curiosity' would not be cured till he found out everything there was about this thing called 'humanity' and why people seemed to want it so badly; and why lacking it was such an atrocity.

Dol # 3: Marina

Damian surveyed the streets as he drove through the area where his... girlfriend lived. She was going to go visit some friends in Las Vegas and he knew her departure date was today. The woman didn't have a car so she'd be taking the bus route. He had to intercept her before she got to the airport. He didn't want to wait around for much longer. He was getting bored of this 'couple' gig. He couldn't understand why humans cherished it so. It got dull so fast. And what was with this whole 'love' thing? Love didn't exist. Another irrationality the humans pushed for. Humans really were dumb creatures. Fall in love and you were an easy target for the wolf that stole your heart.

Ah, there she was. She was just getting close to the bus stop. He drove up beside her and rolled down the window to wave. “Hey, Marina!” he called.

The woman froze for a second, a little defensive before she realized it was him. He watched her give a sigh of relief and then relax. She beamed at him and waved. “Hey Damian! What are you doing over here?”

“Well you told me you were going to the airport and I figured I'd pick you up. Why take the bus when you've got a perfectly good boy friend that will drive you there?” he asked with a chuckle.

“I didn't want to burden you but if you are willing, sure!” She tossed her luggage into the backseat before she got into the passenger side.

“All right, I have to head home really quick because I have a gift for you that I forgot to bring with me,” he smiled.

“Aww, you are such a sweetie,” Marina said and patted his arm.

Damian drove to his house and parked. He looked around and didn't see anyone around. Good. No witnesses. “Come on inside. I promise it won't take long.”

“All right.”

Damian helped her out of the car before he opened the door for her. “The surprise is in the kitchen,” he smiled. “You have to close your eyes!”

When Marina did, he covered her eyes with his hands and slowly lead her into the kitchen. “Okay, open your eyes!” Before her was a nice little white chocolate cake.

“Aww, Damian! Did you make it?”

“Yup,” he beamed.

“I thought you couldn't cook!”

He shrugged. “I do my best. I wanted to give you something to remember before you left for a whole week.”

Damian cut her a slice then and the two had a nice little cake break. When they were done with the cake, Marina sighed. “All right, Damian. I need to go to the airport before I am late.”

“Okay, okay. I just have one more surprise for you really quick.”

He lead her to another secret room he had built a few years ago. “Oh wow! You have a secret room? Where does it go?” She rushed in ahead of him.

Damian grinned and shut the door behind him. He watched as the woman froze and just stared at the metallic medical table in the middle of the room and medical tools he had acquired off the internet. It looked like a surgery room almost. It was spotless and smelled like rubbing alcohol and disinfectants. Damian had to clean his work table after all.

“Damian... what is this?”

The man could see the wheels turning in her mind and the fear shivering through her. She was just now grasping the mistake she had made.

“Why, this is my work table, my love. I use it only for my dolls.”

Marina looked over at him and then the closed door. She swallowed hard. “D-Damian, I really need to get on the plane. I am going to be late.” She rubbed her arm a little and backed away from him nervously.

Damian's smile never left but his eyes darkened. “Oh, but my sweet, you won't be going anywhere.” Damian took slow steps towards her then and watched her back into a wall.

“Damian! Let me go!” She rushed forward to try and shove him out of the way and get to the door. She did manage to shove him, but he wasn't really fighting back. The door was locked after all.

“Come, come, Marina. You are just going to exhaust yourself. Be a good doll now and come to me.”

“Fuck you! Let me out! Someone help!” she cried.

“This room is sound proof lovely. And oh, what language you use against your lover!” he laughed before he rushed her and slammed her against the wall.

She struggled and managed to slice his cheek with a scalpel she had taken off his wall. Damian backed off for a second and reached up to touch the wound on his cheek and examined his own blood. “A fighter then. I like fighters. I like to watch their will fade with every trial,” he grinned before he grabbed her arm and twisted it until she dropped the scalpel. Then he slammed her down on the table and strapped her down.

Damian ran his fingers through her hair and hummed like nothing was wrong. He cut a few strands of her hair and put it down delicately on his counter, completely ignoring the cries of his lover. Then he grabbed the scalpel she used against him and disinfected it and dried it off.

“Damian, please. Stop. I am sorry if I offended you some way. Please let me go! I won't tell anyone! Please...”

“Do you think I really care? My dear, I never felt this so called love you thought I had. I like your spirit though. I couldn't wait to get my hands on you. Red is a ravishing color for you.”

Damian pressed the scalpel against her cheek and gave her the wound she had inflected on him. He took a little white rose and pressed it against the wound and gathered up the dripping blood. The white rose was now stained in crimson in an interesting pattern. He loved watching the blood drip on the rose. It always had a different design. He pulled the rose away and took a little red ribbon and tied her hair to it and set it down beside the other roses in his collection. They were all dried up now but he wouldn't touch them.

“Welcome to the collection my little doll,” he grinned.