"What's your name child?" The voice was warm, masculine, welcoming. His eyes sleepy and gentle.
"Janelle." The young girl replied, stuttering.
Erik smiled, looking at the child in front of him. What was she, Sixteen? Seventeen? It didn't matter. The look on her face made him ill. So much innocence, so much promise. She would be very beautiful when she was older. A real heart breaker.
Anyone looking at the expression currently frozen on his face would assume he was in a good mood. Fortunately, most people had never seen that expression, and those that did, it were generally their last.
Reaching a hand towards the trembling girl's face, he gently caressed it. Keeping the same expression, he swung the same hand around and slapped her with alarming strength. She sprawled against the wooden floor, a tiny fist held up to her red cheek, too shocked to cry at first until she found her voice and began silently weeping.
Eric still smiled. "Your name is Christine." He said softly and paused.
"What's your name?"
"C-Christine." The girl answered, weeping openly, not meeting the strangers' eyes.
"Stop crying Christine." He instructed, a killing edge in his soft voice. "You don't want daddy angry now do you?"
"N-No."
"No….?"
"No…Sir."
"That's my good girl. Take off your dress Christine."