Tears slipped from my eyes and they didn't stop. No matter how hard I tried to block out these feelings, I just couldn't block out the overwhelming sense. I crouched down infront of the mirror, hunched over and hugging my knees. I completely lost it, I couldn't pick up the peices, everytime I tried, they just snapped between my fingers and shatered into millions more.
Maybe I should just submit to them, I was doomed anyways.

Someone else knealt down beside me and rubbed soothing circles into my back.

"It's okay, you'll get used to it. Soon enough you won't even realise it's there." Whispered a voice, the same voice from earlier today. I didn't dare look at the person, fearing that when I looked I would feel resentment to the only person that has been nice to me in this whole house. When I didn't respond, the person stood up and walked away from me.

"Come on, Holly, it's time to go." I picked myself off the ground and walked up to Shadows, who had his hand stuck out for me to take. I laced my fingers through his and followed him out of the store. I stood by his side, no matter where he went. I sat beside him on the walk to the car, on the ride home, and into the house. "Go upstairs, and take a shower. Wouldn't want that tattoo to get infected now would we?" Shadows smirked, he turned me by my shoulders and gave me a little push towards the stairs, patting my bum as I took a step forward. I trudged up the stairs and surprisingly foun my way back to "my" room easily, I didn't get lost once. I opened the door and headed straight to the bathroom. i quickly shedded my clothes and stepped into the steaming hot water.

Before we left I was told that if I followed simple instructions the tattoo would turn out nicely, but I didn't want it to turn out nicely, I wanted it gone from my body. I was told not to put it directly under the water stream, not to use scented soaps and lotions, and, most importantly, do not scartch or pick at it. So naturally, those are the things that I did first.

I stood under the piping water, the nozzle pointed directly at my tattoo, for longer than necessary. I felt the water sting my skin, feeling like a fresh sunburn. I ignored the sting, telling myself that if I could stomach this, it would go away. I then slathered my entire body in the strongest smelling body wash I could find, multiple times. The perfumes could get into the angry sting and the ink could be damaged. I then grabbed a louffa and scrubbed away, until the skin was red and raw. Seeing no differnece, I picked up a pumus stone and rubbed the jagged edges across my skin. The skin was no bright, bright red. But the words still rang true, in all their black and inky glory. I let my hands rest on my red skin and started to claw at it. I scratched and scratched until I the water pooling at my feet had a rd/ pink tinge to it, until there was a mixture of blood and skin.

When I got out of the shower I felt the familiar sting of a cut. I liked the sensation, but I never thought I would stoop so low again. So low that I actually enjoyed the feeling of my own pain. I liked the way the crimson blood peppered my skin, oozing out of the destroyed skin. It looked so vibrant, so pretty against my pale skin.

I felt a surge of emotions that I knew too well. In one word, it was depression. While I was at home I took medication, twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. The meds helped with my overwhelming sense of the need to hurt myself at any given moment, it even helped me be less anxious, not as many panic attacks since I started, they even controlled the self- loathing I felt every time I looked in the mirror. But currently, it was day 3 of being here and I didn't have my medication. I had been taking this medication for over a year, but after I got home the last time I was taken, they upped the dosage. I used to take only a pill a day, that was enough at the time, but when I got home they feared that I'd relapse so they doubled the dose. My days went past in a happy, calm daze, I didn't have a care in the world. Now, my body was started to drain, depression setting in again. I thought I was stronger than that, that I could resist even though I didn't have my medication, but quite clearly I couldn't. It was my subconscious, and no matter how hard I tried, I could quite clearly not control it.

I dried myself off and stepped into the closet, the closet that was still filled with the same things as the first time I explored it. Even though I explored it once, I had forgotten where everything was. I clutched the towel to my chest and knealt down to the floor, infront of the bottom drawer. My hand was on the handle and as if I had been shocked, I immediately let go, memories flooded my mind from the first time I explored these drawers. my head was filled with the images of toys, that I now knew were meant for me. I didn't dare open the drawer, or even the next drawer on top, I didn't want to look at the lingerie, no matter how pretty they might seem. I stood up, off the floor and opened the top two drawers. I tried to pick out the least sexy and enticing underwear and bra I could find, but they all had their own sort of sexiness to them. I picked out a pair of plain red boy shorts and red lacy bra. After putting them on I walked over to the other end of the closet to look for some pajama pants or sweat pants, but upon insepction, I couldn't find any, not one single pair. Infact, now that I was looking, I didn't see an pants at all, that's weird. All I saw were shorts, so short that they should be considered underwear, skirt and dresses. Not a single pair of pants, nothing that covered below my knees. I picked up and pair of spandex shorts and put them on with an oversized sweatshirt. All I wanted to do was curl up in bed and die, but when I stepped out of the closet, it was clear that that was not an option. Brian was sitting on the bed.

"Hey Peanut, good shower?" He asked, with no sense of a hidden remark, which surprised me. "Now what are you wear? That's not very flattering you know. Now I know, you may not be in the best of shape right now, but you still need to try and impress us." I chose to ignore the remark about my weight, knowing that he was not saying anything but the truth.

"Well, there are no pants in the closet, Brian." I replied, though I immediately realised my mistake when he strided over to me.

"How dare you call me that!" He shouted and slapped me across the cheek. "Now, you know the second last drawer in the dresser? I picked all those out for you. When I saw you walking home from school one day I just couldn't help it. I had to have you, and when I got you I wanted you to look as sexy as possible. Now why don't you go pick something out and put it on for me?"

"I'm not really in the mood..." I trailed off."My tattoo hurts." I explained, hoping he'll accept this.

"Don't worry, I won't touch you, I just want to see you in one and sleep with you." This surprised me, for once they didn't want sex. I felt relief flood over me but I knew that this was unlikely to happen again. I shuffled into the closet, closing the door behind me, turning the lock in place. I walked over to the drawer and picked up a plae pink nighty. and a matching pink thong. I slipped them on and inspected myself in the mirror. The dress covered a considerable about of skin, it wasn't see through and it wasn't too low cut. The chiffon material felt heavenly against my skin. It flowed around my body and surprisingly, I didn't feel like a child dressed in something of her mothers. Even though I looked alright I didn't want to step out into the room with it on, I didn't want anybody else to see me like this. "Tick Tock, Peanut, if you dn't hurry up I may change my mind." That one sentenced changed my mind and I practically ran out of the closet, desperate for him not to change his mind.

When I walked out, he didn't say a word. He just took my hand and gently led me towards the bed. I layed down and he was next to me. He was soflty kissing my neck, trailing up to my lips. When he kissed me, I didn't kiss him back and this frustrated him. He gingerly trailed his hand down my front, he brushed against the front of the underwear and I whimpered in response.

"Please, you promised." I whispered. He continued to kiss me, but he lifted his hand and placed it softly on my stomach.

"You know, we've never had a girl this resistant. We're not quite sure what to do with you. We've never had to wait this long for a girl to give in a enjoy herself just as we enjoy yourselves." He groaned. "Please, just kiss me back." He pleaded with me, he sounded desperate for some sort of affection from me.

Even though my mind was screaming for me not to, I gave in and pressed my lips against his as he pressed his against mine. This would be my first real kiss, and it was from someone that I loathed.

After kissing for a while, he turned me on my side and wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing his arm against the bloody mess of my tattoo.