Luke is looking for her. Making problems that I don't have the patience to deal with. So when I go to her today, it is with this simple request in mind. 

I hand her the pen and paper and wait while she looks up at me. Half-timid, half curious. She should be afraid of me. 

She should be terrified. So long as she fears me... so long as she knows I am a monster, then we will be alright. I won’t lose control.

I won’t forget.  

"What is this?" she asks. 

"A letter," I tell her. "To Luke. Tell him you are done. With all of it." 

Her face pales, and her fingers tighten around the paper. 

"You can't honestly think this is going to work," she says. "Javi, there are more people out there. More than just Luke will notice I've gone missing." 

She's lying, and I know she's lying.

When I discovered that Ray had a daughter, I knew I had to see her. I had to know who she was. I had to know everything. And from the second I first glimpsed her, I have watched her.

She was only sixteen then. Ray was already leaving her home to fend for herself while he went out into the world to do evil.

It was foolish of him. He had so many enemies, and any one of them could have taken her. But they would not. I made sure of that. Because from the moment I saw her face, I knew she would be mine. Mine to keep. Mine to play with.

I've watched her for so long. I know everything about her, and this includes who she keeps company with. 

She is lonely. Surrounded by people, but still alone. Using her books to keep her company. Using her songs to make sense of the darkness inside of her head.

This has always been her way. She never fit in with the rest of society. She was never like them. She has always been an outsider.

Like me.

She only has Art now. Which she reminds me of in the next sentence. 

"Art checks in with me weekly." 

"I know." 

She's quiet. And I am glad she does not try to lie to me again. 

"If I do this," she says. "If I write this letter, will you let me out of the cage?" 

"Do you not like it in here?" 

She stares up at me, blank. 

"Please, Javi." 

Now it is me who is quiet because I do not know what to do. The answer should be simple. Always no. Never give her what she wants.

But she looks so lovely like this. Naked and filthy and mine. Her breath soft and her voice sweet and her nipples hard every time she sees me.

I want to reward her.

And it is a dangerous want to have. She is poisoning me. Making me forget.

"I just need something else to do," she says. "To keep me busy. Let me help you. Cooking and cleaning and doing the laundry. I can do those things." 

She is trying to trick me. Just like he did. And now she does not look sweet. So perhaps I can be agreeable after all.

"You want out, sweet Bella?"

"Yes," she answers quickly. 

"Then be honest about your father. About the kind of man he was. Tell me you are glad he is dead. Tell me that the world is a better place without him." 

Her mouth falls open, and revulsion darkens her delicate features. It does not give me as much satisfaction as I had hoped.

"How could you say that to me?"

Her eyes are filled with tears now. When they drip down her cheeks, I want to fuck her. 

She brushes them away and hides her face beneath a veil of hair, jabbing the pen into the notepad and scrawling across the paper in quick, angry motions. 

When she is finished, she rips the letter away and thrusts it in my direction. 

"There. You got what you wanted. Now leave me alone." 

I want to punish her for speaking to me this way. I want to tie her up and flip her over and fuck her face down into the wire mesh of the cage. 

But I don't. 

Because it is better that she hates me. It is better that she understands what I am and never forgets. 

Beautiful things were meant to be broken.