I grab the belt and she falls backward on the floor from the pull, a screech emanating from her mouth.

“You think you can run from me? Not a chance, Princess,” I say. “You’re mine!”

I drag her across the floor, holding the belt tight as she’s scratching it with her claws, trying to get away from my grasp. I can hear her choking from here, and the more I hear it, the more I get the urge to strangle her with my bare hands. I want to watch her suffer while she looks me in the eyes, knowing it was me all along. Me. I know her. I know everything there is to know about her and what she did. She thought she could keep things secret, keep me away from her life, and it would save her. It was just a fantasy, which I’m about to snuff out.

Just like I will snuff out her life.

Hauling her body up the stairs proves to be a bit of trouble after having her head-butt the staircase, so I decide to pick her up and carry her myself. “Don’t think this is going to be some regular thing, Princess. You’ve been carried enough in your life.”

“No!” she manages to scream.

“You don’t think so? Oh, tell me why you’re living in this big house then because you didn’t fucking earn any of it, now did you? Your two lovers have been generously spoiling you, but I won’t be that nice. Oh, no.” I laugh a little from my own statement because it’s too ridiculous to believe. As if I’d ever be nice to the likes of her.

“Let me go!” she squeals, her voice distorted by all the coughs.

“How about … no?” I chuckle and go up to the attic, where I put her on the floor. The place is musky, lacks sunlight, and seems soundproof. There are plenty of furniture pieces in the back, and one small light hanging from the ceiling. Good enough for me.

Vanessa groans a little, feeling her way along the wooden floor. I watch her with glee as I tap the door, making it close slowly behind us as she crawls near me. When she touches my boots, I smirk.

“Yes, that’s me, Princess.”

She freezes, still holding my boot, but then suddenly her hands come up to rip at the belt around her neck, so I grab the leash and pull back causing her to fall on her face again.

“Uh-uh. Don’t you fucking dare touch that.”

“Stop …” she gurgles.

I go to my knees, placing my hand on my ear while I pull her closer with the belt. “What’s that? I can’t hear you.”

“Let. Me. Go,” she says, still coughing and choking. “You piece of shit.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Me? I’m the piece of shit?”

“Take this off,” she says, her pitch getting higher every second. “How dare you?”

I laugh, unsure why the fuck she’s still under the impression she doesn’t deserve this. “How dare I? How dare I? How about ‘how dare you!’?” I rise and pick her up just by lifting the belt, causing her to stand while she claws at her throat, desperate to breathe. “You think you can talk to me like that after what you did? Fuck you. I decide what happens to you now. Your life is in my hands, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Can’t. Breathe.” Each word comes in short gasps as she struggles for air.

“You wanna breathe? You think you deserve that after the shit you pulled? You think you fucking deserve to live another day?” I shake my head and spit right in her face. Lucky for her the bag is in the way, or she would’ve tasted my saliva. “Disgusting,” I mutter, looking at her.

Her body isn’t disgusting. On the contrary, she’s still as pretty as ever. Voluptuous, thin, Barbie-like figure—perfect for fucking. Her choices, however, now they’re repulsive.

She makes choking sounds as I tighten the grip on the belt. “Look at you. Pathetic,” I say.

I grab her arm and pull her with me toward the middle of the attic, where I fetch a chair and shove her down. “Sit and stay put or else …”

“Are you going to hurt me?” she mumbles.

I smile to myself. “Do you want an honest answer to that question or a lie? Your choice.”

She keeps her mouth shut, so I’m guessing it’s the latter. She’s always been like that, ignoring the truth that’s right in front of her. Well, I’ll make it so she can’t deny it anymore.

“Well, I can tell you one thing. You won’t be getting out of this house anytime soon.” I fish in my pocket and take out my Swiss Army knife. “Hold still.”

I pinch a bit of the bag together and cut into it, slicing a hole into it. I put one finger between the belt and her neck, causing her to suck in a breath, which immediately turns into a cough.

“There. Look how nice I am,” I muse. When she tries to respond, I place a finger on her lips. “Shhh. Don’t waste your breath, which you need so much.”

Her chest rises and sinks with each rapid breath; she sucks them in, as one would sniff coke. I look down at her ample tits and wonder if they’re still as succulent as they used to be. Fuck. Why do I even think about these things? I should be fucking her up right now, but instead, I’m thinking of fucking her. There’s a clear difference, which I can’t seem to separate. Although … it would be a great idea to fuck her up while fucking her. That would definitely be a win-win situation.

A devious smile appears on my face as I unbuckle the belt from around her neck and pull it off. She immediately reaches for the bag, but I grab her wrists and twist them, causing her to cry out in pain. “Don’t touch that. Stay still or I will hurt you.”

I push the knife into her skin close to her neck. Little droplets of blood flow from her veins, and I relish in the color. Goddamn, it makes me want to lick the color off her skin. She hisses from the pain, only making me more excited.

“Feel that?” I say. “It still recognizes your flesh from long ago … it can’t wait to sink itself into you again. Unless you behave, of course, because my knife only likes naughty girls.”

I grin as she whimpers. I put her arms behind the chair and tie them with the belt.

“Don’t fucking move,” I say. “Or your life will end much sooner than you would like it to.”

“Let me go …” she murmurs through the bag. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

I frown. “Of course, it’s me. Who else would it be?” I pull the belt extra hard, so I can hear that lovely whimper one more time. “Or do you mean to say you’ve made plenty of enemies that cause you to doubt my identity?” I walk to her front and lean in to look at her, even though I can only see her lips. Just the way they shudder gets me all riled up. “Because that I can definitely believe.”

“Fuck you …” she mutters.

I grab the bag and pull it tight, gagging her again. “Say that again one more time. I dare you.”

She slams her mouth shut, almost biting on it. On purpose, I think. Maybe she’s trying to shut herself up. Good. It’s about fucking time.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, releasing her again.

I walk around the room; looking at all the props that are here, I think of the ways I can use them to torture her. I want her to the point of begging for death, and then I still won’t give it to her, because that’s the least she deserves.

“Why are you here?” she whispers after a while.

I stop in my tracks and listen to the sound of her breathing. It’s calming to hear the hitches and hastiness of it, as if she knows these might be her final breaths. She’s savoring them, and I’m savoring this moment. This is my drug, my source of energy. I’ve lived for this all these years—to have her in my claws, vulnerable, unable to defend herself against what’s coming.

She’s asking for the reason of my hunt, but she already knows why I’m here.

“Don’t ask me that,” I spit, turning around. “You know damn well why I’m here.”

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” she says, her lips quivering. I love looking at them; I love the sight of her losing the fight with hope.

“Eventually,” I say. “But first, I’ll take my time to punish you thoroughly for what you’ve done.”