Air. That's what I need; air. I open my mouth to gasp for breath, but to no avail. He has me pinned beneath him. His beautiful blonde curls hang over dark, tormented eyes. What have I done? He had seem so sweet, so innocent. I never asked a lot of questions, but he had appeared like an open book. Is this it? Where are my clothes? I can't breathe. What is he doing to me? I can't die like this; this can't be happening. I try to fight back, but my wrists are bound tightly. I can hear my own breaths, coming in faint wheezes now. Everything goes black. Am I dead now? I look around and see myself on the bed. Impossible. Before I have time to register what's going on around me, I hear his voice next to my ear...

"My Katya..."

2 Months Earlier:

Tate POV

Who is she? I see her every day now. I never noticed her before. She's...she's beautiful. I want her. No, need her. I need her close to me. I need to hurt her. There's something in her; something I have to have. What secrets are you hiding pretty little girl?

He whistled as he strolled down the stairs of Murder House. He danced playfully before turning the doorknob and peeking outside.

"Hi there! You must be new!", he said in his friendliest voice.

Without hesitation the girl replied, "Oh hi! I'm sorry, I didn't think anybody lived there."

"Would you like to come in?"

"I really shouldn't. I've got some errands to run."

He had to get her in here somehow. There had to be a way to draw her to him.

"Oh, well, maybe next time?", he asked with a sweet, if not haunting, smile.

"Yes, maybe next time," the girl agreed.

He smiled grimly in her direction, although she probably couldn't see the darkness in his grin through the glare of the summer sun. He felt his body begin to tingle with anticipation. The bulge in his jeans grew, just at the mere thought of touching her, tasting her, breaking her. He groaned audibly as he watched her slender form glide away.

She will be mine. I wonder what her name is. I need to know what to call my dark little princess.

Tate couldn't get her out of his head. For days he waited just for a sight of her. Pacing through the house, he would glance out the window every little bit, just needing to see her perfect little body saunter by. And just when he was ready to give up, there she was, knocking on the door.

Shit! he thought to himself as he darting for the door. What do I say to her?

"Uh…H-hi," he choked out as he leaned through the doorway.

"Hi," she said shyly. "Sorry to bother you, but I needed to borrow a cup of sugar."

"Uh…yeah, sure. No problem."

She followed him into the kitchen, glancing around at the beautiful Tiffany fixtures and marveling at the stained-glass windows.

"Can I get you something to drink?," he asked, as they entered the modernized kitchen that contrasted greatly with the general appearance of the house.

"Um, sure," she said, "a glass of water would be great."

Tate handed her the glass and motioned for her to have a seat on the bar stool. She thanked him as he began to rummage through the almost barren cabinets for the sugar.

"So what's your name?," he asked as he filled a small plastic bag for her.

"Katya. And yours?"

"Tate," he said with a smile.

"So, Katya," - "You can call me Kat," she interjected.

"Ok, Kat. Where ya from?"

"My family and I just moved out here from Seattle. My mom's job transferred her out here."

He liked her already. Too bad his mind was already racing with all the things he planned to do to her.

"Seattle, huh? I hear it's nice out there. We've lived here for as long as I can remember. My parents aren't around much," he lied.

Idiotic small talk! Dammit. How can I have a conversation with her when all I want is to ruin her? I'm a moron. That's it, I'm just...I'm a moron. Get yourself together Tate; you're smarter than this. Think quickly. She's going to know you're completely unhinged before you ever get your hands on her. Stop being a fucking pussy. Just ask her out or something. Anything to make her come back. For fuck's sake, say something already!

"So, uh...," he could barely get words out.

"Well, thanks for the sugar. It was nice meeting you."

She beat me to it. Shit...

"Oh, uh, no problem...Hey, you wanna hang out sometime? It gets pretty dull here by myself. Like I said, parents aren't around much."

"Uh, sure. I'd like that," and with that, she slipped out the front door.

Dammit! I HAD her right in front of me. Why the hell did I stall? I'm pathetic. It's those eyes. Her fucking eyes. Those big, innocent green eyes. God I wanna look into those eyes while I grab hold of that long black hair and fuck her senseless. I'd give anything to hear her scream my name. I want to hear her beg me to stop. I'm useless. I've been dead for damn near 20 years and I'm still shit when it comes to this kind of thing. Fuck it. I need a plan. She WILL be mine...Soon…