The rain is pounding soundly down on the door of my rooftop. I have been told that it once led to an attic, but that portion, Master says, has long since fallen off of the castle.
I like it that way, perhaps. I do not very well know what I truly like anymore. There is no mental pleasure and pain; there is only the physical. The drift of my beloved sister's hand across my chest, the shivering it ignites in my veins; the soft decrease of her voice from boistrous orgasmic howl to subordinate whisper; that is true pleasure, and true power. With Master I am powerless; the crack of his whip ever haunts my memories from when we all were young, and I knew nothing but pain.
But I cannot bear to think of those quasi-forgotten days on a night such as this, as darkness prevails and only my candle flame has had the impertinence to flicker for the past hour.
It is past two, but I will not sleep. I must have my sister here to lie beside me, to channel her sweet, luxurious warmth into my cadaverous shivering frame. Magenta. Even the name sounds remotely like some goddess, clad in silk, and reclining on some distant cloud of mist and fog and foam...ahhh, sister! How she would deserve such a fate, to be worshipped and waited upon as an immortal being; to never die! I should be by her side forever, to love and protect her, grant her whatever she may crave. Not that I wouldn't anyways. She is the most precious of all things on this earth-planet; and the freshest fruit in Transylvania. I would never have another. What else is there anyways.
But as I lie here, waiting, I am disturbed. She has been gone some time, in the Master's quarters. I understand, of course, that she is merely performing her ancillary duties; that she truly loves me and only me, beautiful and bounteous as she is. But she has been away for many nights in a row now, each time longer than the last. The Master is beautiful as well! Could she be waning?
There is, of course, the new girl here, with the crimson hair and the sparkling hat and tails. She squeaks like a strangled hyena when aroused and has proved most attractive at times, damn the bitch. I cannot conceive anything but mad jealousy when I think of her. For it is not just her beauty; I have seen Magenta looking.
That girl is not the Master; Magenta can owe her nothing. If she so much as lays a claw upon my sister she will wish she had never become a Frankiefan. I will pinch her. Pinch her very, very hard.
It cannot be three o'clock already! I must away to Frank's quarters; Magenta must be mine tonight. I can smell her licentious bloodstreams boiling. Morpheus, grant me speed, and prove me wrong in my suspicions!
In a mad rush becoming that of a frightful fiend, I depart and head towards the Master's chambers. Surely she has tired of his assets by now. I must away, my sister is waiting...