The clock teased at striking nine when Tamara started her night show. The storm had made the evening seem like it was lost in the early hours of the morning, dark and cold. Sheets of icy rain smashing against the thick windows to create an almost rhythmic melody, in a way it was a barrier separating The House Of Scarlet from the rest of the world, the rain may as well have been a mountain. Most of the girl's weren't a fan of rain – made their hair frizz – and the dark-skinned woman was amongst them; no, the only person in the house who actually seemed to like rain was Gold, said something about the noise being comforting.

Tamara's lilac lingerie clung to her in all the right places and left almost nothing to the imagination; just what the customers wanted. She'd always been good at getting men to want her. Her dance was little more than a few spins since Tamara wasn't much of a dancer and never had been, that wasn't what she was paid for though. No, she was paid to look pretty and that was something she excelled at. Her hips moved with a hypnotizing sway that had everyone watching her feed surge with want for her. Tamara's laptop pinged thrice.

RIMMER_1: Come on darlin take it off

WHITEKNIGHT: Need more of that beautiful bod

POCKETROCKET: Off Now!

Tamara just giggled and went back to tormenting them all, she knew there were more watching her and thinking the same. Girls like Mulan and Aurora only did this for the ability to put themselves through school and because Gold let them live in such a beautiful house, Ariel, Ruby and the other actually liked it, but Tamara did it for the money. Money, she made a lot of it working for The House Of Scarlet, true she enjoyed being idolized but if the pay dipped at all she'd be out in a flash with her winnings. Ashley had begged Gold to let her do this job, to let her be a House Girl as if it were some kind of right of passage. All of that was stupid in Tamara's mind, just do the job and cash out with the winnings, that was her motto.

"Only three of you with your hands free, huh?" She giggled in a well practised fake tone.

The screen pinged once more and she peered in to read her message; a request for a private session

She grinned. "Sorry boys, seems someone wants a private dance. See you next time."

Tamara blew a kiss to her webcam before allowing her channel to go private leaving it just her and a single viewer. With a cheeky grin – something else fake but heavily practised – Tamara slipped her right bra strap down off her shoulder then let the other follow suit, her skin was smooth and luxurious, warm to the touch from a lustful heat. Everything was normal, or so she thought.

HEARTBREAKER: Is someone in the room with you?

Tamara's head shot round the dark room as an automatic reaction, it wouldn't be the first time Ashley or Aurora had barged into her room in search of some barley there outfit to steal, yet no one was there. Tamara shrugged, maybe their was some sort of smudge on HEARTBREAKER's screen or possibly he'd mistaken her lamp in the background for a person since it was fairly tall and not on. Honestly she didn't really care, sooner this dude came the sooner she could collect her money from Gold.

"No." Was all she said before she returned to her teasing movements designed to entice and beguile.

Her hands went up to unclasp her lilac bra but she was halted by yet another ping.

HEARTBREAKER: Seriously, are you sure no one is there?

"You're really beginning to freak me out, you know?" Tamara looked round again but her room was still empty. "If you're going to piss about then this session is over."

Storms had always put her on edge, scared her; of course Tamara wouldn't ever admit that as long as she lived. Tamara slammed the lid down with more force than she'd intended and froze, blood draining from her face leaving her a deathly pale. She swallowed audibly. The small mirror that hung on her wall behind her desk – an ovular thing that had been there when she'd moved in – showed there really was someone else there, and it wasn't her housemates. For a split second she hoped it was one of the men but no, she'd lived at the house long enough to know Gold, Jefferson or Victor when she saw them, even in the dark; no this wasn't any of them.

Tamara couldn't move, couldn't speak and then the flash of lightning came that lit up her room with a blue tint and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. He looked like he was in some kind of workman's suit which hung loose around his middle clearly too big for him, but it was the clown mask that rooted her to the spot in her wooden chair, a truly horrific visage. She could feel his breath on her skin now, rancid and full of nicotine, foul and bitter like a demon crawling out from among the bodies of the long dead. He'd come so close that his feet must have been touching the back of her chair, she could feel his body heat.

Everything inside her told Tamara to scream, scream as loud and for as long as she could, her mind pulsed with the innate thought but it just wouldn't happen. The half-naked woman's form was frozen in time, turned to stone never to move again. For a time Tamara didn't know if she was even capable of drawing breath with her eyes locked on that mask in her mirror, from the way her heart had sped up and her lungs had tightened the correct answer seemed to be no. She felt as if she'd fallen into an enclosure with a hungry tiger and she didn't want to make a single movement in case it launched.

In the end her stillness was her downfall. Suddenly his hands were around her neck, covered her mouth and bruised, silenced any scream that she could have made. His lips pressed a disgusting kiss to the soft spot behind her ear through the plastic mask and Tamara felt her skin crawl like an ant colony had made her skin their home.

"What is it they say about beauty?" Nottingham took a deep breath of Tamara's rich scent. "It's only skin deep?"

His voice was rough and uneven with a hint of cantankerous anger that ended in a barbed, spiteful spit. It was then that she saw the knife, the silver metal which glinted with malice. Somehow Tamara found her voice again and screamed as loud as her lungs would let her … but no noise came out, his hand was clamped down over her mouth so hard that bruises had started to form. The long blade came up and slashed at her long dark hair, haphazardly cutting the locks from her head. The treatment was forceful and angry, Nottingham pulled so hard that clumps came away from Tamara's scalp bloody and painful even without the aid of his knife. He didn't want her to be beautiful any longer, no, Nottingham wanted her to be ugly like he was, wanted her to feel her beauty drain away. Looks were what the girls of The House Of Scarlet survived on. He was there to take it all away.

Tamara's arms flew out desperately trying to fight him off but he was too strong like a raging mass of muscle; there was no escaping him. No escaping fate. The blade came down, strands of blood matted hair twisted around the hilt like some sick decoration. What came next was pain, excruciating pain. Deep crimson blood dripped down her arm, shoulder to wrist, as the blade slid along her flesh cutting like it was nothing but warm butter for his morning toast. Her blood oozed from the long gashes so deep that they would scar her for life … if he let her get there. Another cut sparked across her cheek a flash flood of agony burning through her body like a poison as the tip of the blade popped through the skin and nicked her tongue.

"Can you see everything you have draining away until there's nothing but red?" He snarled against her ear as he forced her to look at the horror he'd done to her face in the mirror. "You people think you're better than me! You're nothing now! Nothing! You're the freak! The disgusting one!"

Tamara had no time to think, to try and scream again; not that she thought her shredded cheeks would let her mouth open. All that knowledge just let her inevitable death become even more terrifying, acidic tears pooled in her dark eyes blurring Tamara's vision leaving her view nothing more than a distorted red haze. She could smell her own blood so strongly that the taste of iron seeped into her mouth and down her throat, vile as if her blood has somehow become venom.

She kicked out again, elbows, feet, shoulders, hands everything Tamara had she used, her body may have been frozen at first but that was gone now and the young beauty refused to make it easy for him. Nottingham groaned and fell backwards when her elbow buried itself in his ribs, any harder and she'd have heard his ribs crack and crumble; shame she hadn't. His arms were off her and Tamara waisted no time, not a single second, she was a fighter. The dark-skinned woman had worked hard for everything she had and her life was not something she'd give up easily. In an instant she was charging towards the white bedroom door, screaming as loud as possible as another flash of lightning and a crackle of thunder sounded. Deep down she knew no one would hear her, Tamara's room had been soundproofed long ago thanks to her loud sexual activities, and with the placement of her room only Cruella stood a chance of hearing her; that wouldn't happen, she'd have been in the sauna like always. Still Tamara screamed though. Her hand slipped around the door handle but too late, Nottingham was back on his feet and in no more than a micro second one arm slipped back around her throat while the other brought the bowie knife which jabbing deep into the back of her neck causing her to go limp in an instant. He'd severed the spinal cord just below the brain step but above the phrenic nerve, a lucky motion rather than something born of knowledge. Ichor flowed from her body still warm and coated his hand, Keith released her and let Tamara fall to the floor. She wasn't dead, not yet. Her death would be slow as she asphyxiated but Tamara wouldn't know what was happening to her, she would never wake up. Maybe that was an accidental kindness. Either way Nottingham didn't care, he had made her suffer and now he was done, there were others to hurt, others to make suffer like he did deep down inside.

Gaily I lived as ease and nature taught,

And spent my little life without a thought,

And am amazed that Death, that tyrant grim,

Should think of me, who never thought of him.

~René Francois Regnier

~FLASHBACK~

Keith stared at the twelve-year-old over by the fountain with her friends and a soft smile, she was beautiful with her long auburn hair and big eyes. For most of his childhood he'd been moved around from one foster home to another and he'd given up on ever being adopted when he'd turned eight. However, he'd been in his new place just over a year, longer than he'd spent anywhere else and had only been backhanded a handful of times – well, maybe a few more than a handful. Still, Keith was the happiest he'd been in quite some time, that was why he'd allowed himself the indulgence of developing a crush on Anna. The girl was a few months older than him and had moved in next door recently with her parents and twin brother, Andrew. Keith had always been awkward around people his own age, especially girls, the older ones in his other foster houses had always taunted him for one thing or another, pushed and bullied him. Keith didn't know exactly why but from what they'd yelled and screamed at him he knew it to be because he was an ugly little freak whose mother had dumped him because he was worthless. At first he'd not believed them but if you spent your younger years being told the same horrid thing over and over again, there came a time when you just accepted it as fact even if it wasn't.

Anna seemed nice though and, of course, was remarkably beautiful. That was why Keith found himself gathering together every shred of courage he had so he could go over there. This was it, he was going to do it!

As calmly as possible Keith made his way over to the fountain to Anna and her friends and plastered on a grin he hopped was charming.

"Hi, Anna," Keith greeted; though he was twelve Nottingham was rather tall and disturbingly thin.

"Keith, right?" She greeted flatly as if confused by his sudden appearance.

Around him Anna's friends stared at him blankly like he didn't belong and a voice at the back of his head screamed out that he really didn't. Nice girls didn't like him, no one liked him. Still, in that moment Nottingham was just happy she'd remembered his name. Anxietywas something Keith had always suffered with but he intended to force himself through this, be brave.

"Oh, he's the pervert!" One girl who'd been perched on the fountain edge suddenly grinned like she'd remembered something hilarious. "The one who wears his foster mom's clothes!"

Keith's brow furrowed deeply, he'd never done that, he'd never even thought of doing that. All the girls around him erupted into laughter including Anna; that sound broke his heart. Just for a moment he'd let himself believe that he could have a friend and then boom, taken from him before he'd even gotten a proper sentence out.

"That he does, Cecily." His foster-brother appeared then with a soccer ball under one arm and wrapped the other around Anna with a smug grin. "Wears her lipstick too."

Suddenly it all made sense, Charlie was about a year older than himself and had made it his mission in life to make sure Keith knew his place as a worthless piece of shit for no reason other than he could. The girls all started to laugh again and Charlie got a devilish glint in his eyes, next thing Keith knew the soccer ball had bounced off his face and knocked him backwards onto his ass. Everyone just laughed harder and Charlie grabbed his ball so he could do it again.

"Freak!" Charlie screamed and started to kick him.

"Charlie, don't hurt him too bad." Said Anna and just for a second hope returned to Keith's damaged heart and destroyed familial map. "His lip's bleeding."

The elder boy must have seen it and decided instantly to stamp it out because he spun around to Anna and the other girls without missing a beat.

"You know he watches you get dressed through your window, right? He's a freak!"

That wasn't true either, their bedrooms were on opposite sides of the houses, in fact if anyone could watch Anna change it would have been Charlie himself. Keith opened his mouth to say that, to try and stand up for himself but before a single syllable could get out Anna had launched forwards looking horrified.

"What?!" She screamed. "You sick freak! You pervert!"

Then she joined in kicking him while Charlie laughed and only encouraged Anna's friends. Before Keith knew it he was surrounded being beaten for things he'd never done while the word 'freak' got chanted like a mantra. He didn't know why people hated him, why the people at every home he'd ever been sent to either totally ignored him or beat him. What hurt the most was that the kids were right about his mother, she had just dumped him one day, he'd been three and just dropped off at a tall, scary building to never see her again.

Only when the repeated screaming of 'freak' grew so loud that people started to take notice did the other children stop kicking him. Charlie grabbed his ball and tucked it back underneath his arm while the others walked away, the elder boy though, he paused along with Anna though, that sadistic grin still on his face.

"Stay away from my girlfriend you freak." Warning having been made Charlie looked rather pleased with himself.

Amazingly Anna moved closer and held out a hand for him to get up, that hope bubbled again inside his heart and Keith reached out to take her hand. He was maybe three to four inches off the ground when she simply let go and Keith smashed back down against the grassy and gravel ground. More laughing, like fading lyrics as they left him their in pain and bleeding in the park. For a long time Keith just lay there, he hated the word 'freak'.