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"It should hurt, little girl. Being with me will always hurt."
I don't know him, I have never spoken to him, and I have never seen him before.
He's a man wrapped in inky patterns, armed with scarred knuckles, and donned with selfish obsessiveness.
One look and I'm his; I'm his favorite victim.
I shouldn't have these complicated feelings in my stomach when I'm near him, but his presence had proven to be poisoning -- far too late to stop the spread of the compulsive submissiveness that he commands of me.
"John Doe" is his identity; he's nothing, but everything at the same time.
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