Mad Love to our Mad King

What follows are true life tributes to a man that we all adore, for he is special to each and every one of us.  Matt, Happy Birthday Brother.  Enjoy ❤

Matt Farnsworth  Cruel Creator of The Orphan Killer photo by C & C Photography

Matt Farnsworth
Cruel Creator of The Orphan Killer
Photo by C & C Photography

 Musing on Madness

A little over a year ago, I met this man. I thought he was eye bursting beautiful, and I still do. He’s mad, off his nut, and his mind is one of the darkest I’ve encountered. While it should frighten me, and does on occasion, I find him fascinating. I could stare all day and just watch the beast behind his eyes work. Now if this seems like a love letter, there is good reason for that. It is.

Get your minds out of the gutter, it’s not like that. Yes, he is handsome, but photographs don’t tell the real story. His eyes are that blue and no camera in existence could do them justice. Nor can it portray the down to earth, and personable guy that he really is. He’s just like everyone else, except he isn’t

I admire Matt Farnsworth, truly.  His spark of madness is more a raging fire, and it bothers me, in a good way. I’m laughing out loud in the dark writing this, because in Dallas when I first had the opportunity to meet Matt and Diane Foster at Twisted Tails, he glared at me, and I deserved it, and it really did scare me. It was wonderful. I sense the smirk…..

Meeting Matt was like, to be all squishy, ew, coming home. To the family I’d known existed all along, and now knew. Okay stop laughing, I mean it! He loves his TOK Family one and all, and it shows with every post, tweet, share and retweet. His madness is immense. And I give thanks.

Creative minds are everywhere. Everyone has a spark, a creature within themselves that will devour if given the chance to escape its confines. Matt’s broke free, his madness ran amok and out of this he created a creature I happen to like. Marcus Miller, The Orphan Killer. This, my friends, is no ordinary psycho, no common HellSpawn. No, this one is mean and brutal and will make you cringe with every swing of his axe. Yeah okay I have a crush on Matt’s Monster. But I’m his Minion, so it’s allowed.

Today is a special day for the man I like to call my Dark King, and my Brother. Brother at heart, Brother in Blood, and I’d happily spill bloodsauce if it brought a smile to those cruel lips

Happy birthday Matt. From me and mine to you, I wish you a wonderfully brutal day.

Mel xo

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Dark Wishes from Tortured Soul

Within the dark the light shines. It gives the power to unlock the best of the mind.   On this day the world was given a child, who would become a Dark King,  and from mind of this King, a star was born.
 
Hail to the King!  Long will he reign down his slashes of pure horror and gore!  May this day bring you the light and happiness from all that stand with you.
 
Happy birthday
Dave ts
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Birthday Wishes for Matt Farnsworth

Another year has passed by

And I hope that you can see

That you’re one year closer

To your fulfilled destiny

That added to your other gifts

Of beauty, talent and charm

Creates an aura of envy to those

Who would give their right arm

To live their lives like you

Babes throw themselves at your feet

Or at other parts of your body

Hoping like hell to share your heat

I need shades just to look at you

Your light is blindingly bright

Your passion burns hot and deep

With a power to set the world alight

And you will with this next movie

When it’s all been said and done

Because we, your fans, know TOK

Is killer in more ways than one

So if you ever need more talent

As an actress I’m a slouch

But this promise I could make you

I’d rock your casting couch 😉

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Happy Birthday Matt with much love and respect from Cat Hennebury

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Who would have known that Social Media would impact my life in such a way? Not me. About 10 months ago I logged onto Twitter and there they were, the most beautiful set of eyes I had ever seen. Piercing blue pools that captured my heart. Now thanks to them I have the most wonderful family, yes family, and it all started with those eyes….

Eyes as blue as the ocean

A smile that will melt your heart

A genuine caring soul

I was hooked from the start

Sometimes covered in blood

Usually wearing no clothes

Just exactly how he found me

Is something only he knows

See that’s how this all started

On that cold dreary day

A flame was sparked

When I was invited to the slay

Slowly I become addicted

To the madness inside

My love for him grows

Into a beast I can not hide

Some may call him Brother

But I will tell you something

This kind and wonderful man

Will always be my Dark King

Happy Birthday my King, may there many more. To you I am eternally grateful. You have given so much to me, I will never be able to repay. I hope your day is filled with the love you so richly deserve! Happiest of birthdays Matt, forever and always, Diana, aka Madness Addict

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An Artist Stands..A Birthday Letter To My King

He stands…Tall..Proud, his essence flows around him. The world sees him. Mesmerizing blue eyes. The kind you do get lost in. Handsome face, no wait, I take that back,  devastatingly handsome face. Wicked smile, the kind you know loves mischief and is all about that every day. The madness, oh yes the madness,  it circles him, engulfs him, cascades all around him like a turbulent waterfall.
This man stands. Women adore him, love him, dream and write stories about being with him. Men adore him, love him and yes want to be with him also.  I see this yes but I also see something else in every picture of those beautiful baby blues. I see a man whose talent, intellect, and heart drove him to be where he is today.

He has a poet’s heart, moving, caring, understanding and the way he treats his fans proves this 100%.  He has a painters eye, one can only look at his artwork and see the depth of his talent and the passion of his mind. His artwork stirs something inside. Gaze upon his creations and you are swept away by beauty and heart.
When I first laid eyes on him, which will be a year this coming Sept. 16, I thought I saw an angel for the first time.  When I followed him and in seconds he followed me back and said Hello…well, I was lost… I was his…That. Is. All. *giggles*. Okay I was wrong about the angel part!!!

Then as the months past and I could see how he treated me and his fans with love , caring and respect. I was in awe, no other celebrity shows that much attention to his fans. Then I watched TOK for the first time. The sheer pleasure I got from watching this I can never put into words. The fear I felt for Marcus, the love I felt for Audrey was something I couldn’t understand at the time. I understand now, I was in Horror Lust and the sheet talent and madness of this man showed through onto celluloid like a raging bull in a China shop.

So yes….I’m lost in those baby blues, I’m in awe of his talent and mind, and yes I love my Brother. My heart fills with love, respect and gratitude when I think of Matt Farnsworth and Diane Foster and the whole TOK Family. My family accepts me, loves me, understands me. You have given my weird heart a home where I can be me and never be told to stop being weird.

Matt,  I just want to say thank you for accepting me, for all the love you show me and us fans. For taking time out of your busy day to talk to us. I want you to know you are amazing and as a fan I will always be there to support and give you as much love and encouragement that my heart can hold.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND I WISH YOU ALL THE LOVE AND HAPPINESS ON THIS MOST ILLUSTRIOUS DAY!!!!

My love always
Lesley…SweetestGaPeach

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My dearest, most BRUTAL brother,

   It has been nearly a year to the day, August 31st, since you followed me on twitter. The moment I saw you, I was forever lost in those baby blue pools of MADNESS of yours. I have been stuck there since, and “prey” to never be found. You came to me during one of the lowest points in my life, lifted me up, gave me a family that I can truly, cruelly, count on. You gave me peace, and hope. Through the madness you possess, and convey, you have shown me the person I am meant to be, and have led me to the love I was meant to have, the family I deserve. The love, loyalty, attention, respect, and affection that you, and our Queen, show to your fans is like no other. Like nothing I ever expected. I thank you, my Dark One, for every moment that your follow on twitter, (only my sixth lol), has given me. All the love, support, encouragement, MADNESS, and BLOODY BRUTALITY you have brought into my life. You, Diane, David, Officer Hunt, Audrey, Marcus, Esper, Donna, Nicky. You have each impacted and changed my life, my world, in the cruelest, most brutiful ways.

Happy Brutal Birthday my forever Dark King, my Best, most BADASS Brother. All my cruelest love and bloodiest kisses to you always!! ❤❤

TOKs_my_(favorite)Family
Shelly

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1 year ago this month I was introduced to the greatness that is our #DarkKing. First thing for me was those piercing eyes. They take hold & don’t let go….draw you in. Then you realize what a creative genius he really is. Absolutely brilliant. That’s what keeps you hooked.  Here’s wishing you the cruelest & most brutal of birthdays my #DarkKing!! Much love!! Amber (@peacham21)

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It was a very dark time for me. I was fighting many battles and felt as if I was drowning in an endless sea of despair. Abandoned by some I had come to trust…I felt alone and lost when one night I opened up my computer and there he was, staring at me with eyes of blue infinity that pierced through my soul. A bewitching smile that barely contained the madness I could sense behind it and in time I embraced fully. A heart so large and full of love for all those that follow him. How could I resist this? He saved me that night and many times since…I know he has done the same for many others. His amazing warmth & friendship breathed new life into me…I found a new sense of purpose and a new family to call Mine. It has been a year since that fateful night and my life has been forever changed. What the future holds I cannot say but I do know this… I will always be his Princess and he my Dark King. Happy birthday Matt and let there be many many more to come ❤ ❤

Caro xo  ❤the_twisted_path_group_matt_farnsworth

Celebrating Madness

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I’ve been trying to find the right words for the last few days. You know which ones I mean. The words that tell my Dark King, my friend, my brother, just what he means to me and how happy I am to have him in my life. The words to tell him Happy Birthday without having it seem, I don’t know, trite. There will be many people sending him wishes for a happy day, telling him they love him, and how happy they are to know him. And while all of that is valid and I do wish him the happiest of days, and I am blessed to have him in my life, and I do love him more than he knows…. It all seems lacking somehow.

So, how do I tell him that when he puts up his “madness” pictures that I would be ever so willing to go help him in his mischief? Or that when he gives us a photo where he looks annoyed, stern, or even a little pissed that I want to either hide or beat up whoever it is that put that look on his face. Mostly though it’s those smirks and smiles that I can’t explain properly. You see, even when I’m hurting, or sad I can look at one of them and it’s like I can feel him hugging or teasing me. Somehow everything seems to just settle down, and even if he can’t feel me hugging him back, in my mind I am.

So how do I tell him all that he means to me? How thankful I am to his parents for bringing him into this world, and raising him to be the man he is? How much I appreciate everything he does, and for allowing me into his world? I just can’t find the words to say it all. So I guess I’ll simply say;

Happy Birthday my Brother

I love you, I miss you, and thank you

from the bottom of my black little heart.

 Siara ❤

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The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Currently in Production

The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Currently in Production

Broken

Dear Journal;

Broken

Shattered

Destroyed

I feel as if these words describe not only my heart but my soul as well. Can a soul be shattered? I feel as if there is nothing left to wake up for in the morning, nothing left to care about, nothing left to live for. It has all passed me by and I was looking the other way.

Drifting

Lost

Abandoned

My mind is wandering, aimless, unsure. Lost in a morass of fear, doubt, pain. My focus is gone, my thoughts scattered to the four winds, hidden from myself. Before I had hearts, hands, souls to help me find my way back. Now, now I am alone.

I know who I am, who I am supposed to be, what my purpose is. I have found though that I do not care. It began several months ago. I am only now free of that place, that man, the drugs, and the fear. Well perhaps not the fear. If I were free of the fear I would not be constantly glancing over my shoulder, would I? I would not have a need to have every light in the house turned on, only turning them off in the light of day. When my sisters see my electric bill they will not be pleased with me. Oh dear god, my sisters. I’m going to have to tell my sisters. Of course, it would have been nice if even one had noticed that I was not attending our usual Sunday dinners. Noticed and then come to see if they could locate me. I know I have missed a dinner or two in the past but I have never missed without letting someone know. Normally I would have contacted someone. My other sisters have missed previously, without a call, or a text. I’ve always made a point of swinging by to see if everything was alright….

No, this is his fault. His alone. Not theirs. They would not have known where to look for me, and had one come along perhaps he would have kept her as well. Or killed her. No I can’t think about that. I must remember that everyone else is alright. I could not bring myself to speak with any of them tonight, I needed to come home, shower. Did you know that showering in an empty house can be terrifying? The silence is oppressive. However do not turn on the radio or television before you shower. The silence is preferable to the sounds that cover up footsteps, breathing, doors opening….

Stop! I went by our family home before I came here. I silently peered through the living room window, and in doing so determined it was Sunday. The wine was open, popcorn made, they were watching a movie. It’s one we’ve all watched several times in the past. I was surprised to see my brothers as well. They seldom join us and I will admit that I wanted to go inside, crawl into the lap of one of our boys, and stay there. Of course I could not let them see me like that. Stolen clothes, covered in blood (not all of it mine, he felt pain before he died), my hair full of dirt, my skin covered in cuts, bruises, needle tracks…. Thank God I have seven days until Sunday.

My family is a little… unusual. We are none of us family by blood, simply by choice. We found each other gradually over the years. We know that we will most likely find more as time passes, it is the nature of our bond. We have had siblings leave, their paths veering away from ours. We have also suggested, rather firmly I might add, that a sibling or two is no longer welcome in the family home. I cannot help but wonder if my recent actions will cause my departure to be desired.

We each have a virtue that we identify with strongly. My gift has been eloquence, the capability to speak and be heard, to bring the truth to light without causing offense. I have been told that although I was not born with a silver spoon, I was blessed with a silver tongue. My family knows that a portion of my gift is the ability to broadcast my desired outcome, the positive emotions that I wish to be felt by the others involved. I have recently found out that I am also capable of permitting my fear, my anger, and my hate to be felt by others as well. How I wish I had never been taught that lesson.

I don’t actually know how it began, one moment I was home, the next I was not. The day had begun like most any other. My phone ringing. It was, of course, one of my sisters.  Raven needed my help. Her primary talent is Justice but she sometimes let it over take her. She’d gotten herself into a little bit of a pickle and needed me to talk to the group and smooth things over. Not a huge issue. So I told her I would have a quick shower, then head on to meet up with her. I never made it. I was in the shower, I heard a thump and I called out. I thought one of my sisters was over. I saw a shadow on the curtain. And then nothingness.

When I awoke all I could feel was heat, surrounding me, entrapping me. No escape. I couldn’t move, my eyes opened in panic to see nothing, darkness. I couldn’t help myself and I began to twist, whimper, cry. Suddenly I was able to move, the heat dissipating, and I felt a light touch on my arm. “Shhhhh…relax my sweet. Everything is fine, you’re safe.” A soft, masculine voice, unfortunately not a familiar voice.

“Where am I? Why can’t I see?” I wanted to shout with every fiber of my being, but that never gets anyone anywhere. I felt myself broadcast a little of my fear, just a small amount. I didn’t know if it would work, I’d never tried fear before. Concern but never fear. But then again, what had I ever truly been afraid of?

“No my sweet, none of that.” I felt a sharp prick in my arm and that was the end of that. Every time I woke he was there. If I tried to broadcast my emotions, another needle. If I screamed, another needle. If I cried, or carried on in any fashion, again the needle. As time passed I began to wake more quietly. I felt around my space using what senses I had available. As touch and sight were out of the equation I had to listen, keep myself calm and pay attention when he entered the room.

Damn it, Jes just pulled into the drive. I’ll be back. She can’t see this.

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Dear Journal;

Jes saw a light on and decided to stop. She said she thought I was out of town. Wanted to know where I went for six months without telling anyone. Six months. She also gave me shit for disappearing on our sister. She had to go help Raven, though she said there was a bad taste left behind that nothing could fix. I told her to stop ranting at me that I’d explain on Sunday what happened so I only have to do so once. The light was behind me so she couldn’t see the bruises.

Anyway, after a time (I’m not sure how long) I realized that when it was really quiet, I could hear other voices. The only one that seemed able to tell when I was broadcasting was the man in charge of me, so to speak. I began to send out gentle waves of concern. I could sense a woman in the room to my left, and a man in the one to my right. I knew without trying though that he wasn’t going to be around much longer. I could feel he was letting go. I tried to send him courage, strength, hope. All I received in return was despair. The next time I woke, I sensed nothing. He was gone.

The next day I made contact, of a sort, with the woman. I could tell when she was medicated, when she was simply sleeping, and when she was awake. Sleeping meant nightmares. Fear. Awake meant terror. I could only help for short periods of time. Her fear, her terror, increased my own. So I had to keep my contact with her to a minimum. I believed that instead of becoming despondent like that man had, that she was losing her mind. There were times I heard her screaming, but the laughing was the worst. Neither lasted long though, and then I could sense she’d been drugged again.

My captor was away more. I had more time between his visits. More time awake. I’d begun to notice that my body was in pain. The only times I knew anyone was in the room was when he would come in and the world would disappear with the prick in my arm. I started to wonder what was happening when I was unaware.

I’m not certain how long it took but I must have built up a resistance to the drug. He didn’t know as I tried to be silent when I woke. I could hear him in the room sometimes, writing on occasion, sounds I didn’t recognize other times. I would stay silent, contained, hidden. I would wait, sometimes half an hour, sometimes longer before I’d try to send out calm, hope, to the lady in the next room. If I didn’t wait long enough he would come back and I’d get another needle. I finally woke very early one day. I could feel his hands on my body. He was touching me, everywhere. Pinching, squeezing, slapping. No wonder I hurt every day. After that nearly every time I woke he was touching me in some manner. I did my best to remain calm, quiet, let him think I was still out. I didn’t always succeed.

Then one day I felt the needle when he came in, but I didn’t go completely under. I could hear him talking to another man. I couldn’t track the words though, the drug made that nearly impossible. I couldn’t move either but I was aware. And then I wished I wasn’t. They took turns using my body. Not just the two, but several men. Different touches, different voices, different men all using my body for their enjoyment. Now I knew why I was bound, blindfolded, why I was being held against my will. My terror overwhelmed me, and that was all I knew for a while.

Next time I woke I awoke screaming. He spoke to me and I did not stop, I think it was a few days before I woke again. He changed my drug, I was solidly out again. This time when I woke I planned. I needed to get out. I’d been waiting, hoping that one of my sisters would arrive, tell me that I was in the hospital, tell me what had happened. They would never have left me in a place like this though. So now I knew, I had to get out on my own. But how? My hands and feet were firmly strapped to the bed. I wondered about the lady in the other room. Was she trapped as I was? Were they doing to her what they were doing to me?

Then a couple of days ago, while it was still quiet all around me, I woke suddenly. In the silence I could hear her tears. Her fears filled the room with screaming, though there was no sound to be heard. Her pain, her sense of loss, her anguish surrounded me, drowning me in her.

I began to speak. Softly, gently, low. If there was anyone walking past none but she could hear. And she heard. If only she had not heard. My words fueled her, commanded her. My words drove her. Her actions were my thoughts. My pain, my sorrow, my hatred. Her body was free, mine was not. My mind, my voice were all I had. She became my avatar. My puppet. My saviour. Their death.

She had been unresponsive for days. They no longer bothered to bind her to the bed. When her controller entered the room, she used my anger, my hatred, my out and out uncontrollable rage as her fuel. I whispered thoughts of death, mayhem, blood and she made them real. When he was dead I still did not release her from me. She killed the man in the hall, tore him limb from limb. After she released me from my bindings I stumbled to the door, leaning against it I looked out and watched his life merge with the water he had been washing the floor with. I did not mourn him though. If he was not one of the men that raped us, then he left us to them.

God damn it, who’s here now? I need to finish this. I need to get it out. But the doorbell is ringing. I’ll be back.

Screaming

Dear Journal;

I need to be more careful. Devine stopped in, noticed all the lights on, and started to walk around turning them off. I had to lie, I told her I was looking for a mouse. That I thought I’d seen one and didn’t want to turn off the lights until I found it. She turned to look at me, she looked concerned and I thought I hadn’t done a good enough job with the cover-up but then she shivered and said she hoped I was wrong but maybe I could borrow a cat. I’m going to have to stop leaving the lights on all the time. It’s attracting too much attention. Tomorrow I’m going to get a lock for my bedroom door. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep. With my room at the back of the house my sisters shouldn’t notice these lights on all night.

I still don’t know her name. I guess I never will now. They killed her, they killed her as if they had plunged the knife into her body themselves.  But he wasn’t there yet. They’d called him so he was on his way. But he wasn’t there yet and none of the others seemed to feel my broadcast as an outside thing.

We’d gotten part way down the hall. We were opening doors, trying to release anyone else we found. We only found two others that could walk. There were others but they weren’t going anywhere. One man had his legs broken, and they didn’t set them properly. He told me he’d tried to escape and that was his punishment. He asked me to kill him. I told him I couldn’t. I should have then, I did later but not by choice. She’d picked up the mop, and broken off the handle. As I was untying another lady she turned and put it through some guy’s throat. He came running into the room, yelling at us. She didn’t like the yelling. I tried to rein in my emotions a little, the other lady was becoming violent as well and I realized I was still affecting them. I should have let it be though.

We found a man near the end of the hall, he could walk but there was something about him that made me nervous. We let him free anyway and he joined us. We went around a corner and into a large open space, there was a kitchen area on the other side of the room and I could see knives from where I was standing. I thought it was odd that there was no one around but I took it as a blessing and we went across the room. We each collected a couple of knives. The new lady didn’t want to but I told her to grab a couple anyway. I said she didn’t have to use them but it would keep her from looking like easy prey.

As we slipped into the next hallway, I noticed all the doors were open, no one to rescue, nowhere for anyone to be hiding. I started to calm down. I could see the doors leading to the outside world just a few meters away. As I calmed down so too did my companions, but I didn’t see it. I was walking in front with the first woman. I really wish I’d asked her name. As my emotions settled, my broadcast ebbed. I thought we were all there for the same thing. I thought we were all being used in the same manner. I have to admit I was confused when behind me I heard a gurgle. As we turned around we saw that the man we had rescued had cut the other woman’s throat. He was smiling. He was covered in her blood, and he was smiling as he moved towards us.

I froze. And because I froze so did the lady I started all of this with. Because she froze, he plunged a knife into her stomach. He did it almost as an afterthought. He was walking towards us, his eyes holding my own, he was nearly past her, she had stopped sooner than I did. Then his hand moved almost lazily to the side and I heard the sound of the knife plunging into her. His smile grew as he pulled it back out, his hand covered in gore as he sliced to the side. He made it two more steps towards me, a couple more and he would be close enough to kill me too, and still I stood. My fear had paralyzed me, he was nearly to me when he stopped with a look of confusion on his face. He should have made certain she was dead, or at least down for the count. Her pain woke her from my fear. Her kitchen knives were in his back. One in the middle, one looked to be in his kidney. As he fell her eyes locked on mine. I caught her before she hit the ground, I held her as she bled out, I cried as the light left her eyes, and I could no longer feel her presence.

I’m not certain how long I sat on the floor with her in my arms. Her blood pooled around me on the floor, his blood mingled with hers but I could not make myself move further away. I hear the doorbell but I need to finish this now. Whoever it is can come back later. It’s taken me two days to get this far, and I have yet to sleep. Maybe when I finish I will.

I heard voices coming towards me. One man was talking on a cell phone, telling someone that we were free, that the others were dead, I was the only one remaining. I waited until he was off the phone, until he and the other men were closer, and then I sent them my rage. Their targets? Each other. I sent my rage, my hatred, and my fear to all of them. The one with the phone suddenly turned to the man beside him and the phone went through his mouth. That was the only one to die quickly.  As he turned to another, he turned his back to one and he suddenly lost a part of his spine. He collapsed and I watched him die. It took a while. The one holding the spine suddenly had a chair smash over his head. I lost track of what was happening for a little while as the remaining 5 men made each other bleed. When it was down to one, I put her gently on the floor, took up my knives and walked towards him. I sent him wave upon wave of trust, love, desire. By the time I was close to him he was rather randy. I let him watch as I cut it off. Then one of my knives went through his eye into his brain, he was dead before his scream fully materialized. I went and sat back with the lady, pulled her back onto my lap, and told her that they had paid for what they did to us and that I was going to take a short rest before I went home. I believe I passed out for a while.


Controller

The next thing I remember is looking up and seeing the man that was my controller. I’d never seen him before but I recognized his voice when he spoke. He tried to take her away from me. I screamed, loud. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a needle. I know it was to calm me down but after everything I had just been through I was not going back into that room. No one would touch me again. This man would not get near enough ever again. As he came closer I gathered my strength, and flung her at him. It knocked him over, the needle went flying. By the time he got out from under her, the needle was in my hand, and then in his arm. He was out in moments.

Had I left then I could have told my family what happened. They would have helped me deal with the repercussions, with the stress, and the fear. I would have spent the last two days with my sisters helping me to pack while my brothers went looking for a new place for me, something with enough security to please them. But I didn’t. I should have but I stayed.

I took him to one of the empty rooms that we had passed, I didn’t think there would be enough time to put him through even half of what we went through but I wanted him to feel fear. So I put the cuffs on him, and a blindfold. The door closed, locked, just in case. In another drawer I found a gag, I didn’t want him to be able to distract me, to make me change my mind. I didn’t want to hear him beg. And then I waited for him to wake.

It must have been a low dosage as he woke no more than an hour later, I think. I’m afraid my sense of time has escaped me somewhat. He jerked awake, his screams muffled by the gag, his muscles straining against the cuffs. I spoke quietly to him. He had to stop screaming if he was to hear my words. He did for a moment, and then he realized what I was saying. The screams began again. As he thrashed, and pulled I slid a knife under his pants leg. He felt the cool metal and stopped moving. I think he was afraid that I might cut him. Up one leg at a time, at the top I allowed the blade to touch his manhood, gently but enough to make him scream in fear. As I cut his shirt off I turned the blade over and left a thin slice along his pectoral muscles, very lightly, it was barely there. But it made him shriek and I was beginning to enjoy his muffled sounds. That should have told me it was time to leave but I didn’t want to.

After I disrobed him I began to broadcast my fear to him. He was already afraid and I made him terrified. I whispered softly to him, telling him what I wanted him to do, what I wanted him to feel. I told him what she had felt, what she had done, and I whispered that he would do so much more. I took control of his feelings, subtlety playing no role. I told him a story about what had been done to she and I from our perspectives. I told him a tale about how he was going to make it up to us. I could feel his resistance, his desire to break free from my control, and I laughed. And then I amplified it all twice again as much. I shattered him, and then…. then I released him from the bonds.

I instructed him to harm himself. And he did as he was bid. He cut himself, so deeply that I could see bone, and sinew. He sliced his own legs so deeply that the muscles we no longer attached, he could not have stood, walked, run…nothing, and I was pleased. But still it wasn’t enough, and I was lost to my own madness. I took the knife back, and tied him back to the bed. I’d been preventing him from feeling the pain so far. The pain would have given him strength to break my control and I could not allow that. As soon as he was bound tightly, I released my control including the pain suppression. He roared and then passed out.

Bloody Hand

Somehow some sanity broke through. I could not leave him as he was, but I no longer desired to torture him. I picked up the knife and I slit his throat. Within moments I was bathed in his blood, and yet I stood there. I watched until there was no chance of life remaining. And still I felt unsafe. I lost what control I had regained and the next thing I recall his head was no longer attached to his body. His legs weren’t even in the same room. I left his hands bound as I pulled on a lab coat I found in a closet at the back of the room.

I didn’t even try to wash up. Suddenly the fear was overwhelming me again. Any moment someone was going to walk through the door and I was never going to leave this place. I tried to school myself, control it. I couldn’t leave things as they were. Eventually someone would show up even if it wasn’t right now. If they didn’t call the cops, and I was fairly certain they wouldn’t, this would continue. They’d do this to someone else. Some part of me knew that there were others still tied to their beds but they were dead already, even if they were still breathing. I couldn’t rescue them, and by the time I could get help I was positive that the people running this place would have killed them rather than move them. This was my rationalization. And so I went back to the kitchen, I went through the cupboards and I found alcohol. I poured some out down the hallway I had been in. I poured the rest down the hallway I would leave by, and over that man’s body. Then I went back and lit all the candles I could find. I put them by the trails of booze, by the oven. I sure hoped this was going to work, it did in the movies. I kept one candle with me and I went back to the kitchen to turn on the gas stove. I wasn’t sure candles would set it off but I was fairly sure that a fire would. As I got to the doorway leading to freedom I lit my candle, left the flame up on the lighter I’d found, and tossed them both down the hall towards the booze.  I peered out the door carefully. It was dark enough outside that I felt I could slip into the shadows unobserved. When I was a little a couple of blocks away I heard an explosion, I could see flames in the distance. What do you know, it worked.

I still don’t know how I made it to the family home. Or even why I went that way at all. My place would have been closer, there would have been no risk of a family member spotting me had I just gone home. And well, here I am. Somehow I made it home from there.

I am dreading Sunday. For the first time ever I am afraid to go to my family. I could lie to them. I could make up a story, something easy, light. Something with no blood, no pain, no death. I could. But I love them. I made a promise long ago, no lies. Not within the family. They all know what I can do, although they don’t know what I am capable of. They will though. It won’t be long and I will be alone, adrift, shunned.

There’s the doorbell again. It’s being held down, that means it’s Jes and she won’t leave until she gets her way. I’ll go talk to her and then I’m going to try to sleep.

Goodnight, dear Journal.

I close the book, check my makeup to be certain she won’t be able to tell anything, and go answer the door. It’s not just Jes, it’s Raven as well. She’s hoping I can help her out and this time she’s taking me with her. It doesn’t matter that I’m exhausted, I’ll go and do my thing for my sister. I only hope I can control my emotions. I can’t exactly be broadcasting fear every time someone comes near me, touches me, invades my space…. crap. Jes comes back down the hall from the washroom and I tease her about falling in. She laughs and tells me it’s time I changed the lock on that door, that it tries to keep her in every single time. I tell her not to worry about that door, that I’m going to start looking for a new place tomorrow. That this place is too big for just me. My sisters, the loves that they are, offer to help and as we head out we discuss what I’m looking for in a new place. Raven insists that this time I get a place with a pool. As we get into the car we’re laughing, it very nearly drowns out the screaming in my head.

I’m going to try to enjoy their company. It might be the last time.

Silver Tongued Duchess

Silver Tongued Duchess

 the_twisted_path_group_matt_horwich

The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Currently in Production

The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Currently in Production

 Matt Farnsworth Films    Madness is in the Eye of the Beholder

 

Broken

Dear Journal;

Broken

Shattered

Destroyed

I feel as if these words describe not only my heart but my soul as well. Can a soul be shattered? I feel as if there is nothing left to wake up for in the morning, nothing left to care about, nothing left to live for. It has all passed me by and I was looking the other way.

Drifting

Lost

Abandoned

My mind is wandering, aimless, unsure. Lost in a morass of fear, doubt, pain. My focus is gone, my thoughts scattered to the four winds, hidden from myself. Before I had hearts, hands, souls to help me find my way back. Now, now I am alone.

I know who I am, who I am supposed to be, what my purpose is. I have found though that I do not care. It began several months ago. I am only now free of that place, that man, the drugs, and the fear. Well perhaps not the fear. If I were free of the fear I would not be constantly glancing over my shoulder, would I? I would not have a need to have every light in the house turned on, only turning them off in the light of day. When my sisters see my electric bill they will not be pleased with me. Oh dear god, my sisters. I’m going to have to tell my sisters. Of course, it would have been nice if even one had noticed that I was not attending our usual Sunday dinners. Noticed and then come to see if they could locate me. I know I have missed a dinner or two in the past but I have never missed without letting someone know. Normally I would have contacted someone. My other sisters have missed previously, without a call, or a text. I’ve always made a point of swinging by to see if everything was alright….

No, this is his fault. His alone. Not theirs. They would not have known where to look for me, and had one come along perhaps he would have kept her as well. Or killed her. No I can’t think about that. I must remember that everyone else is alright. I could not bring myself to speak with any of them tonight, I needed to come home, shower. Did you know that showering in an empty house can be terrifying? The silence is oppressive. However do not turn on the radio or television before you shower. The silence is preferable to the sounds that cover up footsteps, breathing, doors opening….

Stop! I went by our family home before I came here. I silently peered through the living room window, and in doing so determined it was Sunday. The wine was open, popcorn made, they were watching a movie. It’s one we’ve all watched several times in the past. I was surprised to see my brothers as well. They seldom join us and I will admit that I wanted to go inside, crawl into the lap of one of our boys, and stay there. Of course I could not let them see me like that. Stolen clothes, covered in blood (not all of it mine, he felt pain before he died), my hair full of dirt, my skin covered in cuts, bruises, needle tracks…. Thank God I have seven days until Sunday.

My family is a little… unusual. We are none of us family by blood, simply by choice. We found each other gradually over the years. We know that we will most likely find more as time passes, it is the nature of our bond. We have had siblings leave, their paths veering away from ours. We have also suggested, rather firmly I might add, that a sibling or two is no longer welcome in the family home. I cannot help but wonder if my recent actions will cause my departure to be desired.

We each have a virtue that we identify with strongly. My gift has been eloquence, the capability to speak and be heard, to bring the truth to light without causing offense. I have been told that although I was not born with a silver spoon, I was blessed with a silver tongue. My family knows that a portion of my gift is the ability to broadcast my desired outcome, the positive emotions that I wish to be felt by the others involved. I have recently found out that I am also capable of permitting my fear, my anger, and my hate to be felt by others as well. How I wish I had never been taught that lesson.

I don’t actually know how it began, one moment I was home, the next I was not. The day had begun like most any other. My phone ringing. It was, of course, one of my sisters. Raven needed my help. Her primary talent is Justice but she sometimes let it over take her. She’d gotten herself into a little bit of a pickle and needed me to talk to the group and smooth things over. Not a huge issue. So I told her I would have a quick shower, then head on to meet up with her. I never made it. I was in the shower, I heard a thump and I called out. I thought one of my sisters was over. I saw a shadow on the curtain. And then nothingness.

When I awoke all I could feel was heat, surrounding me, entrapping me. No escape. I couldn’t move, my eyes opened in panic to see nothing, darkness. I couldn’t help myself and I began to twist, whimper, cry. Suddenly I was able to move, the heat dissipating, and I felt a light touch on my arm. “Shhhhh…relax my sweet. Everything is fine, you’re safe.” A soft, masculine voice, unfortunately not a familiar voice.

“Where am I? Why can’t I see?” I wanted to shout with every fiber of my being, but that never gets anyone anywhere. I felt myself broadcast a little of my fear, just a small amount. I didn’t know if it would work, I’d never tried fear before. Concern but never fear. But then again, what had I ever truly been afraid of?

“No my sweet, none of that.” I felt a sharp prick in my arm and that was the end of that. Every time I woke he was there. If I tried to broadcast my emotions, another needle. If I screamed, another needle. If I cried, or carried on in any fashion, again the needle. As time passed I began to wake more quietly. I felt around my space using what senses I had available. As touch and sight were out of the equation I had to listen, keep myself calm and pay attention when he entered the room.

Damn it, Jes just pulled into the drive. I’ll be back. She can’t see this.

home-safesecure-large

Dear Journal;

Jes saw a light on and decided to stop. She said she thought I was out of town. Wanted to know where I went for six months without telling anyone. Six months. She also gave me shit for disappearing on our sister. She had to go help Raven, though she said there was a bad taste left behind that nothing could fix. I told her to stop ranting at me that I’d explain on Sunday what happened so I only have to do so once. The light was behind me so she couldn’t see the bruises.

Anyway, after a time (I’m not sure how long) I realized that when it was really quiet, I could hear other voices. The only one that seemed able to tell when I was broadcasting was the man in charge of me, so to speak. I began to send out gentle waves of concern. I could sense a woman in the room to my left, and a man in the one to my right. I knew without trying though that he wasn’t going to be around much longer. I could feel he was letting go. I tried to send him courage, strength, hope. All I received in return was despair. The next time I woke, I sensed nothing. He was gone.

The next day I made contact, of a sort, with the woman. I could tell when she was medicated, when she was simply sleeping, and when she was awake. Sleeping meant nightmares. Fear. Awake meant terror. I could only help for short periods of time. Her fear, her terror, increased my own. So I had to keep my contact with her to a minimum. I believed that instead of becoming despondent like that man had, that she was losing her mind. There were times I heard her screaming, but the laughing was the worst. Neither lasted long though, and then I could sense she’d been drugged again.

My captor was away more. I had more time between his visits. More time awake. I’d begun to notice that my body was in pain. The only times I knew anyone was in the room was when he would come in and the world would disappear with the prick in my arm. I started to wonder what was happening when I was unaware.

I’m not certain how long it took but I must have built up a resistance to the drug. He didn’t know as I tried to be silent when I woke. I could hear him in the room sometimes, writing on occasion, sounds I didn’t recognize other times. I would stay silent, contained, hidden. I would wait, sometimes half an hour, sometimes longer before I’d try to send out calm, hope, to the lady in the next room. If I didn’t wait long enough he would come back and I’d get another needle. I finally woke very early one day. I could feel his hands on my body. He was touching me, everywhere. Pinching, squeezing, slapping. No wonder I hurt every day. After that nearly every time I woke he was touching me in some manner. I did my best to remain calm, quiet, let him think I was still out. I didn’t always succeed.

Then one day I felt the needle when he came in, but I didn’t go completely under. I could hear him talking to another man. I couldn’t track the words though, the drug made that nearly impossible. I couldn’t move either but I was aware. And then I wished I wasn’t. They took turns using my body. Not just the two, but several men. Different touches, different voices, different men all using my body for their enjoyment. Now I knew why I was bound, blindfolded, why I was being held against my will. My terror overwhelmed me, and that was all I knew for a while.

Next time I woke I awoke screaming. He spoke to me and I did not stop, I think it was a few days before I woke again. He changed my drug, I was solidly out again. This time when I woke I planned. I needed to get out. I’d been waiting, hoping that one of my sisters would arrive, tell me that I was in the hospital, tell me what had happened. They would never have left me in a place like this though. So now I knew, I had to get out on my own. But how? My hands and feet were firmly strapped to the bed. I wondered about the lady in the other room. Was she trapped as I was? Were they doing to her what they were doing to me?

Then a couple of days ago, while it was still quiet all around me, I woke suddenly. In the silence I could hear her tears. Her fears filled the room with screaming, though there was no sound to be heard. Her pain, her sense of loss, her anguish surrounded me, drowning me in her.

I began to speak. Softly, gently, low. If there was anyone walking past none but she could hear. And she heard. If only she had not heard. My words fueled her, commanded her. My words drove her. Her actions were my thoughts. My pain, my sorrow, my hatred. Her body was free, mine was not. My mind, my voice were all I had. She became my avatar. My puppet. My saviour. Their death.

She had been unresponsive for days. They no longer bothered to bind her to the bed. When her controller entered the room, she used my anger, my hatred, my out and out uncontrollable rage as her fuel. I whispered thoughts of death, mayhem, blood and she made them real. When he was dead I still did not release her from me. She killed the man in the hall, tore him limb from limb. After she released me from my bindings I stumbled to the door, leaning against it I looked out and watched his life merge with the water he had been washing the floor with. I did not mourn him though. If he was not one of the men that raped us, then he left us to them.

God damn it, who’s here now? I need to finish this. I need to get it out. But the doorbell is ringing. I’ll be back.

Screaming

Dear Journal;

I need to be more careful. Devine stopped in, noticed all the lights on, and started to walk around turning them off. I had to lie, I told her I was looking for a mouse. That I thought I’d seen one and didn’t want to turn off the lights until I found it. She turned to look at me, she looked concerned and I thought I hadn’t done a good enough job with the cover-up but then she shivered and said she hoped I was wrong but maybe I could borrow a cat. I’m going to have to stop leaving the lights on all the time. It’s attracting too much attention. Tomorrow I’m going to get a lock for my bedroom door. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep. With my room at the back of the house my sisters shouldn’t notice these lights on all night.

I still don’t know her name. I guess I never will now. They killed her, they killed her as if they had plunged the knife into her body themselves. But he wasn’t there yet. They’d called him so he was on his way. But he wasn’t there yet and none of the others seemed to feel my broadcast as an outside thing.

We’d gotten part way down the hall. We were opening doors, trying to release anyone else we found. We only found two others that could walk. There were others but they weren’t going anywhere. One man had his legs broken, and they didn’t set them properly. He told me he’d tried to escape and that was his punishment. He asked me to kill him. I told him I couldn’t. I should have then, I did later but not by choice. She’d picked up the mop, and broken off the handle. As I was untying another lady she turned and put it through some guy’s throat. He came running into the room, yelling at us. She didn’t like the yelling. I tried to rein in my emotions a little, the other lady was becoming violent as well and I realized I was still affecting them. I should have let it be though.

We found a man near the end of the hall, he could walk but there was something about him that made me nervous. We let him free anyway and he joined us. We went around a corner and into a large open space, there was a kitchen area on the other side of the room and I could see knives from where I was standing. I thought it was odd that there was no one around but I took it as a blessing and we went across the room. We each collected a couple of knives. The new lady didn’t want to but I told her to grab a couple anyway. I said she didn’t have to use them but it would keep her from looking like easy prey.

As we slipped into the next hallway, I noticed all the doors were open, no one to rescue, nowhere for anyone to be hiding. I started to calm down. I could see the doors leading to the outside world just a few meters away. As I calmed down so too did my companions, but I didn’t see it. I was walking in front with the first woman. I really wish I’d asked her name. As my emotions settled, my broadcast ebbed. I thought we were all there for the same thing. I thought we were all being used in the same manner. I have to admit I was confused when behind me I heard a gurgle. As we turned around we saw that the man we had rescued had cut the other woman’s throat. He was smiling. He was covered in her blood, and he was smiling as he moved towards us.

I froze. And because I froze so did the lady I started all of this with. Because she froze, he plunged a knife into her stomach. He did it almost as an afterthought. He was walking towards us, his eyes holding my own, he was nearly past her, she had stopped sooner than I did. Then his hand moved almost lazily to the side and I heard the sound of the knife plunging into her. His smile grew as he pulled it back out, his hand covered in gore as he sliced to the side. He made it two more steps towards me, a couple more and he would be close enough to kill me too, and still I stood. My fear had paralyzed me, he was nearly to me when he stopped with a look of confusion on his face. He should have made certain she was dead, or at least down for the count. Her pain woke her from my fear. Her kitchen knives were in his back. One in the middle, one looked to be in his kidney. As he fell her eyes locked on mine. I caught her before she hit the ground, I held her as she bled out, I cried as the light left her eyes, and I could no longer feel her presence.

I’m not certain how long I sat on the floor with her in my arms. Her blood pooled around me on the floor, his blood mingled with hers but I could not make myself move further away. I hear the doorbell but I need to finish this now. Whoever it is can come back later. It’s taken me two days to get this far, and I have yet to sleep. Maybe when I finish I will.

I heard voices coming towards me. One man was talking on a cell phone, telling someone that we were free, that the others were dead, I was the only one remaining. I waited until he was off the phone, until he and the other men were closer, and then I sent them my rage. Their targets? Each other. I sent my rage, my hatred, and my fear to all of them. The one with the phone suddenly turned to the man beside him and the phone went through his mouth. That was the only one to die quickly. As he turned to another, he turned his back to one and he suddenly lost a part of his spine. He collapsed and I watched him die. It took a while. The one holding the spine suddenly had a chair smash over his head. I lost track of what was happening for a little while as the remaining 5 men made each other bleed. When it was down to one, I put her gently on the floor, took up my knives and walked towards him. I sent him wave upon wave of trust, love, desire. By the time I was close to him he was rather randy. I let him watch as I cut it off. Then one of my knives went through his eye into his brain, he was dead before his scream fully materialized. I went and sat back with the lady, pulled her back onto my lap, and told her that they had paid for what they did to us and that I was going to take a short rest before I went home. I believe I passed out for a while.

Controller

The next thing I remember is looking up and seeing the man that was my controller. I’d never seen him before but I recognized his voice when he spoke. He tried to take her away from me. I screamed, loud. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a needle. I know it was to calm me down but after everything I had just been through I was not going back into that room. No one would touch me again. This man would not get near enough ever again. As he came closer I gathered my strength, and flung her at him. It knocked him over, the needle went flying. By the time he got out from under her, the needle was in my hand, and then in his arm. He was out in moments.

Had I left then I could have told my family what happened. They would have helped me deal with the repercussions, with the stress, and the fear. I would have spent the last two days with my sisters helping me to pack while my brothers went looking for a new place for me, something with enough security to please them. But I didn’t. I should have but I stayed.

I took him to one of the empty rooms that we had passed, I didn’t think there would be enough time to put him through even half of what we went through but I wanted him to feel fear. So I put the cuffs on him, and a blindfold. The door closed, locked, just in case. In another drawer I found a gag, I didn’t want him to be able to distract me, to make me change my mind. I didn’t want to hear him beg. And then I waited for him to wake.

It must have been a low dosage as he woke no more than an hour later, I think. I’m afraid my sense of time has escaped me somewhat. He jerked awake, his screams muffled by the gag, his muscles straining against the cuffs. I spoke quietly to him. He had to stop screaming if he was to hear my words. He did for a moment, and then he realized what I was saying. The screams began again. As he thrashed, and pulled I slid a knife under his pants leg. He felt the cool metal and stopped moving. I think he was afraid that I might cut him. Up one leg at a time, at the top I allowed the blade to touch his manhood, gently but enough to make him scream in fear. As I cut his shirt off I turned the blade over and left a thin slice along his pectoral muscles, very lightly, it was barely there. But it made him shriek and I was beginning to enjoy his muffled sounds. That should have told me it was time to leave but I didn’t want to.

After I disrobed him I began to broadcast my fear to him. He was already afraid and I made him terrified. I whispered softly to him, telling him what I wanted him to do, what I wanted him to feel. I told him what she had felt, what she had done, and I whispered that he would do so much more. I took control of his feelings, subtlety playing no role. I told him a story about what had been done to she and I from our perspectives. I told him a tale about how he was going to make it up to us. I could feel his resistance, his desire to break free from my control, and I laughed. And then I amplified it all twice again as much. I shattered him, and then…. then I released him from the bonds.

I instructed him to harm himself. And he did as he was bid. He cut himself, so deeply that I could see bone, and sinew. He sliced his own legs so deeply that the muscles we no longer attached, he could not have stood, walked, run…nothing, and I was pleased. But still it wasn’t enough, and I was lost to my own madness. I took the knife back, and tied him back to the bed. I’d been preventing him from feeling the pain so far. The pain would have given him strength to break my control and I could not allow that. As soon as he was bound tightly, I released my control including the pain suppression. He roared and then passed out.

Bloody Hand

Somehow some sanity broke through. I could not leave him as he was, but I no longer desired to torture him. I picked up the knife and I slit his throat. Within moments I was bathed in his blood, and yet I stood there. I watched until there was no chance of life remaining. And still I felt unsafe. I lost what control I had regained and the next thing I recall his head was no longer attached to his body. His legs weren’t even in the same room. I left his hands bound as I pulled on a lab coat I found in a closet at the back of the room.

I didn’t even try to wash up. Suddenly the fear was overwhelming me again. Any moment someone was going to walk through the door and I was never going to leave this place. I tried to school myself, control it. I couldn’t leave things as they were. Eventually someone would show up even if it wasn’t right now. If they didn’t call the cops, and I was fairly certain they wouldn’t, this would continue. They’d do this to someone else. Some part of me knew that there were others still tied to their beds but they were dead already, even if they were still breathing. I couldn’t rescue them, and by the time I could get help I was positive that the people running this place would have killed them rather than move them. This was my rationalization. And so I went back to the kitchen, I went through the cupboards and I found alcohol. I poured some out down the hallway I had been in. I poured the rest down the hallway I would leave by, and over that man’s body. Then I went back and lit all the candles I could find. I put them by the trails of booze, by the oven. I sure hoped this was going to work, it did in the movies. I kept one candle with me and I went back to the kitchen to turn on the gas stove. I wasn’t sure candles would set it off but I was fairly sure that a fire would. As I got to the doorway leading to freedom I lit my candle, left the flame up on the lighter I’d found, and tossed them both down the hall towards the booze. I peered out the door carefully. It was dark enough outside that I felt I could slip into the shadows unobserved. When I was a little a couple of blocks away I heard an explosion, I could see flames in the distance. What do you know, it worked.

I still don’t know how I made it to the family home. Or even why I went that way at all. My place would have been closer, there would have been no risk of a family member spotting me had I just gone home. And well, here I am. Somehow I made it home from there.

I am dreading Sunday. For the first time ever I am afraid to go to my family. I could lie to them. I could make up a story, something easy, light. Something with no blood, no pain, no death. I could. But I love them. I made a promise long ago, no lies. Not within the family. They all know what I can do, although they don’t know what I am capable of. They will though. It won’t be long and I will be alone, adrift, shunned.

There’s the doorbell again. It’s being held down, that means it’s Jes and she won’t leave until she gets her way. I’ll go talk to her and then I’m going to try to sleep.

Goodnight, dear Journal.

I close the book, check my makeup to be certain she won’t be able to tell anything, and go answer the door. It’s not just Jes, it’s Raven as well. She’s hoping I can help her out and this time she’s taking me with her. It doesn’t matter that I’m exhausted, I’ll go and do my thing for my sister. I only hope I can control my emotions. I can’t exactly be broadcasting fear every time someone comes near me, touches me, invades my space…. crap. Jes comes back down the hall from the washroom and I tease her about falling in. She laughs and tells me it’s time I changed the lock on that door, that it tries to keep her in every single time. I tell her not to worry about that door, that I’m going to start looking for a new place tomorrow. That this place is too big for just me. My sisters, the loves that they are, offer to help and as we head out we discuss what I’m looking for in a new place. Raven insists that this time I get a place with a pool. As we get into the car we’re laughing, it very nearly drowns out the screaming in my head.

I’m going to try to enjoy their company. It might be the last time.

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Silver Tongued Duchess