I couldn't tell you how long I've been trapped like this; long enough to nearly starve to death and use the bathroom on myself. Disgusting!

They beat me and raped me. They even stuck things inside me; not sex toys, but objects that shouldn't belong in a woman's vagina. (If I even was a woman anymore.) I'll spare you the rest of those details. I still wish I could burn them from my memory.

Father made sure to remind me everyday that I wasn't a real woman; that no one would ever want me now. They dressed me up like a child when they 'played' with me; just like Father used to like to do years ago, when our relationship was romantic. But this was far from romantic; this felt humiliating. As I said before, I was now their 'little doll'. Or 'toy', as Irene had put it. They just laughed at my pain and misery. Fuck them both!

I knew I couldn't stay living like this much longer; slowly but surely, I knew I'd die if they continued to let this go on. Perhaps that's what Father wanted all along, to get rid of me slowly and watch me rot away to nothing. After all, I was nothing to him anyway. But I still loved the sick bastard. I know I shouldn't now; he clearly didn't love me anymore. I guess it was because of all we've been through together, with me and Veera too. I guess I had hoped he would change; throw that whore Irene out and love me again. But no, it was only wishful thinking. The man I loved was now long gone and a monster took his place.

Father worked during the day, leaving that whore Irene at home to take care of me. When she was sober she fed and cleaned me. And in her sober state I could see in her eyes she felt guilty for keeping me prisoner here. Good! But she was just as afraid of Father as I was, so maybe we were both prisoners. But I felt no sympathy for her; only hatred! She and Father were my tormentors now. And I was living in Hell.

One afternoon, Irene came in to feed me again. She sat in a chair near the bed and cut up my food in small bites, so I wouldn't choke on them as I had to stay laying down.

"I...I'm so sorry," she whispered an apology. She did that a lot, but every time her 'apologies' just fell on deaf ears to me. Fuck her!

She tried to offer me a bite of food but I refused.

"Then let me go if you're so sorry. Release me!" I begged. But she only shook her head.

"You know I can't do that."

"Yes, you can! Daddy loves you now, not me! He wouldn't care if I were gone," I was crying now, "Please, Irene! I'll die if I stay here. These bedsheets are too tight, I can't even feel my hands anymore. Please! Please, let me go! Please!" I was begging for my life.

Perhaps Irene really did feel guilty or perhaps it was my childlike appearance that won her over (that part always seemed to save my ass, as I would later figure out) but she finally gave in and began untying the bedsheets from my wrists. I felt the blood rush back into my hands. I was free!

I quickly get out of bed, and before Irene knew what hit her, I took that plate of food and smashed it over the bitch's head. It shattered on her and she collapsed to the floor in a daze. I immediately crouched down ontop of her. I picked up the knife that was laying by her on the floor, then I forced her to turn onto her back so she could look me in the eyes. The plate had made a gash on her forehead and blood was trickling down her face. I smiled darkly at the sight of it. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw the knife in my hand.

"L-Leena? Leena, no! Please! I let you go! I let you go!" She cried for mercy. But I just pinned her down and slashed the knife across her cheek to make her shut up. She screamed in pain and I loved it.

"THIS is for stealing my Father!" I screamed in her face, right before stabbing the knife deep in her chest. She coughed up blood. "THIS is for torturing me!" I plunged the knife in her throat now. She was probably already dead but I wasn't finished yet, not with this sorry excuse for a human!

"And THIS...Is because I FUCKING feel like it!" I screamed out in a blind rage as I started jabbing the knife into the slut's cunt, over and over again; mutilating her womanhood. By the time I was finished, Irene was nothing more than a bloody mess.

I finally stood up, breathing in and out hard as I glared down at my first victim. (The first of many, as I would later find).

My first kill felt exhilarating; adrenaline corsed through my body and I wanted more.

Now it was Father's time to pay!

I had to wait a few hours for him to return home, giving me time to stage a little 'surprise' for him...

Nighttime had come, and I could hear my Father's car pull up outside. I was waiting for him; hiding behind the door of his room. The lights in the room were off and it was completely dark. Downstairs, I heard Father come in through the front door, calling for his slut. But no answer would come to him.

I listened as his heavy footsteps stomped up the stairs and I held my breath.

No turning back now.

The bedroom door opened slowly and I stay put where I was behind it, out of his sight. Karl flipped on the light, expecting to see me still tied to the bed, but instead he saw the little parting 'gift' I left him. He was too in shock to scream, he just froze, gawking in horror.

His lover's bloody corpse laid on the bed, tied up like I was, and her legs were spread open to reveal the mutilation I caused. And above the bed, painted on the wall with her blood was a little message for him:

'Do you love me now, Daddy?'

I slammed the door shut, revealing my presence loudly. My Father nearly jumped out of his skin, turning around quick to face me; his eyes were wide, fearful. So many times in the past my Father made me give that same fearful look; now it was his turn.

"Leena?" But it was more like a yell than a question, like a yell for help as he eyed the bloody knife I still held and the blood all over my face and dress - Irene's blood.

I tilt my head to the side, stepping closer to him. He took a step back, holding up his hands, as if that would save him. I could tell by the way he stared at me, eyes wide, that he knew his fate was sealed.

"Well, do you?" I ask calmly but coldly, my glare burning at him harshly. "Do you love me now, Daddy?"

Before I gave him a chance to even answer, I ran towards him, knocking him down as the knife went through his chest. I was ontop of him, stabbing him over and over again. I could taste my Father's blood in my mouth as it splattered all over me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, letting out all my rage.

"DO YOU LOVE ME NOW, DADDY?! DO YOU? DO YOU, YOU SICK PIECE OF SHIT! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! AHHHHHH!"

It seemed like I stabbed him for hours and maybe I did, because afterwards I felt so exhausted. Exhausted but finally free.

I cried for hours after though, I know that. Cried and cried as I hugged and kissed my Father's corpse. I even mounted him and stuck him inside me, making love to him one last time.

Why couldn't he just love me back? And who would love me now?

When I was 'finished' with him, I cleaned myself up; washing away the blood off myself and the knife, trying to also wipe away any fingerprints off the handle. I should've been more careful, I know, but it wasn't like this was planned. It was my first murder after all.

I knew I had to get out of here quick. And I did the only thing I knew to do; disguise myself. Though I hated looking like a child, I figured I might as well embrace it. And who would suspect a child to commit such crimes? I packed a bag full of all the child-like old timely dresses my Father had bought for me years ago. I layered my face with thick makeup, hiding my age. My Father even had false teeth made for me to complete the look. I wore a plaid blue dress and white stockings and put my hair in pigtails. I looked myself over in the bathroom mirror and my Father's words still rang in my mind: "You're not a real woman!"

I sighed, then grabbed my belongings and headed downstairs. Before leaving, I found a small picture of my Father. I kissed it then placed in my dress pocket. I then walked out into the night. I didn't know where to go or what to do in that moment, but at least I was free from that life of abuse.

Or so I had thought...