He stands in the doorway of the dark concrete room. There is no light here, save what is coming from where he is standing. Pretty Violet Eyes with Black Hair is stumbling around, trying to make something of the glow and his presence.
"What are you up to, sweetheart?" he asks loudly and she trips over her own ankles, sending her into gales of laughter.
"Waiting for you, master!" she purrs crawling towards him.
She kisses the shiny material of his boots and he gives a quick kick, which sends he flying into the concrete wall on the other side. She cries out and he grins.
"I've brought you something," he says casually and she begins to make her way back to him.
"Lotus?" she asks hopefully.
He nods and she moans in anticipation.
"Shall I beg for it?" she asks.
He sees the delight in her heavily lidded eyes along with the blood on her split lip.
"Yes, you shall."
He lets her worship him for fifteen minutes and my goodness, that time she spent with the late Tony Rydinger really paid off because her lip service is astounding.
"Here, poppet," he says when she finishes and throws five little white pills on the ground.
Faster than a normal human could respond, she's grabbed them and is searching in the dim room for her water bottle. As he carefully tucks in his shirt and cinches his belt, she frantically takes all five pills at once and is reduced to seizures of ecstasy on the hard cold floor.
The Lotus Project has been on going for six years now, which means she's almost twenty. He's had her since she was fourteen, since he was rebuilt better, faster, stronger. Her family back home has no idea what happened to her, that she simply disappeared one day. And they don't know that he's still alive or it would be too obvious that he has her.
He grabs her off the floor once she's finished with the first wave of intense pleasure, that psychedelic trip and hauls her to what he affectionately calls "the torture chamber." She isn't in any condition to resist the electroforce cuffs he places around her wrists and ankles and he hangs her from a hook in the ceiling, like a slaughtered pig.
Her head hangs down and she's mumbling something deliriously.
With great care, he takes off the camisole she wears, which causes her to moan and writhe from his touch. He strokes the smooth skin from her neck down to her navel and she shudders, which makes him smile.
"I've come up with a new game for us to play tonight," he informs her, finding the box cutter in his pocket.
He pulls it out and her eyes get wide as she examines the sterile blade.
"Ooh!" she coos.
"Yes, that's what I thought," he agrees.
The blade extends out almost a full inch, longer than is actually needed, but still pretty dramatic to look at.
He traces it across her pale skin and instantly little rivets of crimson begin to appear. He had gotten the idea from "Hannibal" though he wasn't going to feed her her face-- he wasn't a monster, after all!
"OW!" she exclaims, the awkward grin still on her face.
"Hurt?"
"Yes! Oh, yes, it hurts!" she says tossing her head back before she starts giggling.
He let's the blade go deeper and she twists her body a bit which makes a longer incision than intended, but oh, well.
"Owwie!" she cries out, but lets out a laugh that he joins in.
She's addicted to the Lotus, giving her a hedonistic joy she's been living for almost six years straight. Her mind is completely fried from the drugs and sometimes he feels bad about that because she was brilliantly clever. But that sympathy doesn't last long and it's back to business. When he does pull her off the Lotus every once in a blue moon, he delights in the horror of reality she experiences. And the way she begs him, pleads to have the medicinal escape she needs to survive.
The lacerations map her body, different widths, different depths and some of the laughter has ceased.
Now she's screaming in pain. Full, angry, scared screams. This is the part he likes the best, when the Lotus can't mask what's really happening.
"DADDY! DADDY!" she cries and he lets out the maniacal laugh that he has spent years perfecting.
"Daddy can't help you now, pumpkin!" he shouts and lets out another laugh.
Blood is pooling at the floor and he knows that he really shouldn't push her much farther because she could go into shock, but it's too much fun. His hands begin to roam her body, purposefully bothering the cuts he's made, wanting to afflict her as much as possible. He moves behind her and pulls down the plain cotton underwear. Fingers part her gently and he knows that even with a brain as muddled as hers, she understands what's going on.
"I love it when you cry, Baby," he murmurs into her ear and she nods her head whilst she sobs.
"Tony never liked seeing me cry!" she protests.
"I know, I know," he soothes. "But Tony's gone now, taken care of. He'll never take you away from me, away from the Lotus."
Her breath hitches momentarily as he enters her, but relaxes as they fall into their usual pattern. He loves her, really loves her and seeing her happy is the best thing he can have at this point in his life.
"I love you," she pants, her body a mixture of sweat and blood.
He plants a kiss on the space between her neck and her shoulder and he replies earnestly, "I love you, too."
Bob and Helen are quickly ushered down the hallway to the dimly lit interrogation rooms. It's been ten years, ten long years and they'd never lost hope, but they'd all given up.
At the heavy metal table sits a girl who's crouched in her chair, holding her legs and rocking back and forth. She's hiding behind that dark curtain of hair as she's done her whole life. She's bigger now, taller, lanky, gaunt. Her skin is a lustrous white, albino shade as though she's been tucked away somewhere dark for a long time. Dark circles under her eyes only emphasis the brilliance and size of her purple irises. She's wearing a white t-shirt and hot pink track shorts, the outfit she was last seen in.
"Violet?" Bob asks tentatively.
The girl looks up, her eyes darting between Mother and Father. She's shaking and her teeth are chattering as if the room is very, very cold. She licks her dry lips and a guilty, impish grin appears. It's the same one that she used to give when she was caught watching TV very early in the morning as a little girl.
"Hi, Daddy! Did you miss me?"