Nathaniel is the worst of her captors.

He always appears when no one is around, not that anyone would stop him anyway. Lilac has been here long enough to know these people don't care what happens to her as long as she can continue being used as their guinea pig.

It was her reality now.

The door shuts behind him with a click. He never bothers to lock it, not with Reece on the other side. What's the point when she can't move anyway. Even if the drugs weren't in her system, the binds keep her locked up perfectly for him.

Lilac follows him with her eyes, his cornflower blue gaze locked on her. His hand floats out, fingers bouncing from one syringe to the other on the tray left behind by Nurse Daphne.

Sometimes Lilac thinks Daphne is on it, syringes always tending to be left out before Nathaniel makes an appearance. He grabs one of the empty ones, curling his meaty fingers around it before he takes a seat on the side of her bed, his other hand lifting to place her frozen hand on his thigh.

He leans over her, and all Lilac can do is watch his cornflower blue eyes as he traces the needle point of the syringe down her cheek, tracing the scar there with leering curiosity.

He asked her once how she got it. She couldn't answer. That day the drugs were different, worse.

She likes to block that day from memory, what Nathaniel and Reece had done to her. If she doesn't think about it, it never happened.

So far that thinking hasn't worked out for her.

He groans quietly as he drags the syringe down her neck gently, his eyes following the movement. He narrows them as he slips the syringe between two fingers, thumb caressing the plunger as he pushes it all the way down, releasing any lingering air from the pump.

He watches in morbid curiosity as he sinks the needlepoint into her skin, joining the cluster of scars already there before he removes it with a guttural groan, inserting it back in.

Lilac let's her eyes shut as his hand lands on her hip, bunching the scratchy clothes in his fist, lifting the top up as he slides his fingers under the waist band.

Cornflower blue eyes stare back at me as I shut the door to the private rooms behind me, flicking the lock with a snap.

My steps are unsteady before I lock my knees and continue in, my eyes tracing over the features in front of me.

The man in front of me doesn't look like how he used to, his skin melted on the left side of his face, the shoulder bared under his navy shirt deformed and scarred, the hand he used to touch me melted to the bone, nothing to show but a stub.

The sight brings a sense of relief to me.

I stalk forward, letting the calm settle over me once more as I hear the music grow louder.

My target Cain McLaren, formerly known as Nathaniel Boulder, relaxes back into his spot on the lounge, legs spread to make room for his non-existent balls.

And I do mean non-existent. Nathaniel lost his balls in the fire that tore through a warehouse downtown, killing doctors and scientists and patients alike.

A very sad story, I'm told.

Too bad, it's being told wrong.

When Nathaniel got out of the hospital after surviving the burns, he changed his name, but the silly little boy didn't run far enough.

Didn't run at all.

As if he thought everyone who knew what went down in that building were dead.

Well, he was wrong.

I settle my legs over his, my hands wrapping around his neck as I fiddle with the bangle around my wrist.

"Didn't they tell you I like brunettes? I thought Candy was meant to be mine tonight."

"Candy fell sick. I'm her replacement tonight."

He huffs, his hand falling on my hip as he keep his other by his side.

I pull back, staring into those disgusting blue eyes.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Nathaniel."

His reaction is instantaneous, head reeling back from mine but I'm ready. My fingers twisting the two parts of the bangle apart and pulling the garrotte wire free, twisting it around his neck and pulling him forward, our noses almost touching.

"Wh-Who are you?"

"I don't have time for chit chat Nathaniel." I pull the wire tighter, bringing my hands close together in front of us.

His eyes flicker to them, face paling.

I twist the cap off the ring, a bead of moisture forming at the top of the exposed sharp point.

"Do you know what this is Nathaniel?"

He shakes his head as a roaring fills my ears, my gaze stuck on that bead of moisture.

I bring my other hand up, swiping the undersaw of my eye so the worst of my scar is visible.

"Don't play dumb Nathaniel. You know what this is, who I am."

"You're the girl."

"Lovely impression I've left on you." I scoff, tightening the wire as his face reddens. "The girl." I sneer, "Say my name."

"Lilac." He gasps out.

"Good boy, Nathaniel. Maybe I won't kill you." I let the wire slacken and look back at the ring, drawing his gaze to it. "Do you know what happened the first time I was injected with this stuff?"

I flick my eyes to his, probing an answer from him.

He shakes his head.

"It paralysed me, but I could still hear, see and feel everything." I look back to the ring. "Do you know what that is like?"

Once more, he shakes his head.

"Do you want me to show you?" I move before he can react, punching the ring harshly into the side of his throat, the needle tip piercing his skin.

His body deflates all the tension within, his eyes looking around wildly as he slumps in the seat.

I hop off of him, unwinding the wire from around his neck and letting it slip back into the bangle it once was.

I reach a hand up to the boning in the corset, slipping my thumb and forefinger under it until I pull the slim blade free.

I look at it with pursed lips before looking to Nathaniel.

"Where do you want me to start?"

He doesn't reply.

"Your neck?" I muse, bringing the dagger to his neck and tracing the sharp point across his jugular before drawing it down the centre of his chest in featherlight strokes.

Finally, the tip meets his crotch and I look back into his fear filled eyes, "Or here?"

I lift a brow but all he can do is grunt.

"I'm guessing that was a no."

I flip the needlepoint dagger in my hand, plunging it down into his thigh with a jerk.

"Legs it is."

I rip the weapon free before stabbing it back down, looking into his eyes with every stab.

Nathaniel's eyes flare and snap over my shoulder but I pay him no mind as I remove the knife once more, flipping it between my knuckles before choosing a new spot to assault.

I block out his grunts as crimson blood coats my hands from the wounds I'm inflicting.

"Such viciousness."

I whirl around, my heart thumping as the dagger goes soaring right for Johns shadowed face.

He moves at the last second, the dagger slicing his cheekbone as he keeps his eyes on mine. Blood dripping down his cheek.

He stalks forward, his hands reaching for mine before he pulls a square piece of fabric from his pocket, wiping my hands clean of blood – or as clean as they can get before he shoves it back in his pocket.

He lifts a hands to his cheek, swiping the blood away with the pad of his thumb, smearing it more.

"You almost gave us matching scars, Angel." He chuckles darkly, "Love the enthusiasm but maybe you should take me to dinner first."

I shake myself out of my daze. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you that shocked in my presence that you have amnesia. You just rode all over my co-"

"What are you doing in this room?" I grind out, ripping the wig from my head and throwing it at Nathaniel's feet, his dim eyes flicking between John and I.

"I was enjoying the show before you ended it prematurely." John says, strolling leisurely towards Nathaniel's prone form, glancing over the wound I'd already made.

He lifts a hand, pushing a finger against one of the wound, hie eyes lifted to watch as Nathaniel groans, but is unable to move or do anything to help himself.

John hums, turning to stare at me over his shoulder. "Don't stop on my account, Angel." He steps back, using his hand to bring my attention back to Nathaniel.

I narrow my eyes on John's face but can't get a read on his thoughts. He steps forward, walking past me towards my dagger, pulling it from its perch in the wall and walking back to Nathaniel's body, shoving it harshly into his leg.

"From what I could see, you weren't done." He mutters, "So finish what you started."

I watch as he walks back to the wall, folding his arms as he leans back against the wall, lifting a brow as if to ask me what I am waiting for.

I ignore his attention on me as I walk back towards Nathaniel, ripping the dagger free and flipping it in my hand thoughtfully as I look for my next spot to stab.

"Feet." John murmurs, the word echoing slightly in the silence.

I don't look back as I crouch down, moving the dagger so its securely in my fist and stab it down at my victims' feet, slicing through tendon and bone.

"Hmm, not as dramatic as I thought it would be." John murmurs, stepping forward and staring over Nathaniel's body.

"He's drugged, no matter what I do. He can't fight."

"Nifty little trick."

I hum, ripping the blade free.

"Let's go hands next, there is something poetic about injuring a man's hands when he has done you wrong."

There's an undercurrent of knowledge in John's words but I don't look too deep, moving the dagger to do as I wish.

• • •

I turn my back on the dead body, finding John's gaze running down my form, lingering on the splatter of blood.

"Do you feel better?"

I blink at the question, but answer truthfully. "No."

I turn away from his attention, slipping out the door and walking the back hallway towards the exit.

John follows at his own leisurely pace, his attention riveted on my back. I exit into the cold night air, finding my bike quickly.

I grab my leather coat, pulling it over my shoulders before swiping up my helmet.

I twist my hair into a bun, shoving the helmet onto my head to keep it in place before flicking up the visor and looking back at the man watching me.

"You have a good night, John."

He salutes, dimple deepening his smirk. "You too, Angel."

I flip the visor back, throwing a leg over the bike before letting it start with a purr, ignoring the piercing gaze on me as I exit the side street.

• • •

I walk the hallway leading to my door, steps slowing as I notice the note taped to the front.

I reach for the dagger in my pocket, palming it in my hand before I reach up and remove it, hand falling to twist the door knob and finding it unlocked. I push the door in, my eyes sweeping the apartment.

Nothing jumps out at me, so I slowly step in, my heart thumping erratically in my chest.

My footsteps are silent as I walk through the small space, my gaze drawn to the bed. Hand outstretched to grasp the object laid out peacefully upon my pillows.

The doll stares back at me, right eye removed and hair blood red. The wears a miniature version of the lingerie I wear right now, the only difference is she wears chains around her wrists while I wear mine around my mind.

I drop the doll, hand pulling the note forward and unfolding it.

I don't share my dolls.

The door behind me whines, my fear rising.