"Peter!" I called. I heard footsteps approaching as I placed down spaghetti on the table.

Peter sat down. I leaned against the counter and observed him. He started to stuff his mouth but stopped to look at me.

"You aren't going to eat?" He asked.

"I'm hungry for something else," I said, slipping the knife into the waistband of my leggings.

He smirked and pushed the spaghetti away. I sat on his lap, kissing him. "Are you sure you're ready, baby?" He asked. I nodded and continued kissing him.

I opened my eyes in the kiss, grabbing the knife. Plunging the knife forward, I aimed anywhere. It ended up hitting him in the shoulder.

His eyes popped open and he let out a groan. He threw me off of him, pulling the knife out of his shoulder. He got up and picked me up by my arm. A burning sensation in my shoulder was all I could feel.

"Please, I'm sorry!" I cried. He shook his head and placed me on my stomach, holding my arm behind my back. I started to cry silently.

Peter grabbed a fistful of my hair and lifted my head up, only to slam my head into the ground. I didn't let out a sound.

"This is what happens to bad girls!" He shouted, slamming my head into the ground again. I felt dead and numb.

His grip on my arm was unbelievably tight. I could've sworn the circulation was being cut off.

"Why can't you just listen!" He screamed, smashing my head one last time into the ground. I heard him sobbing, his tears falling down onto my back.

His grip tightened on my arm, making the area he was holding onto numb. I felt warm blood trickling down my head.

I wanted the pain to end. I wanted to die. And so I welcomed the darkness of sleep.

***

My eyes slowly opened. My shoulder still hurt, and my face stung. I reached a hand up to touch my head. My fingers were greeted by a sticky and sort of dry liquid. My fingertips were coated in blood.

I was still exhausted, and I would have fallen back asleep, too, if it wasn't for the fact that Peter was watching me.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he said, walking towards me. "I shouldn't have-" The loud sound of my hand hitting his face echoed in the room. I was furious at him. No, I was more than furious. I wanted to throw him on the ground and make him go through what I had been through.

"Well, that wasn't very nice," he growled. "But since I love you so much, I brought a little present for you!"

He led me out of the bedroom and into the living room. The couch still had my dried blood on it from the time where he carved my face. But in the corner of the room, a bulky and lumpy figure sat.

Peter walked towards the figure and pulled off the white sheet that covered it. I saw my friend tied to a chair with rope. Her head hung low and she had bruises, but other than that, she looked perfectly fine.

I rushed towards her and dropped to my knees. I hugged her and she looked at me with fear filled eyes. I saw the dried tears on her cheeks.

"Daisy," Peter said, "Meet our new pet!"