Slave

"You are sick," she stated, realizing that the old man was indeed a psycho. Horror and understanding were written all over her face.

Mr. Watson chuckled as if she has cracked some joke. He walked behind her and tightly clutched at the edge of her chair.

"Guess what. This sick man is going to decide your fate," he whispered in her ears. The back of his hand caressing her wet cheek. Her heart was thudding frighteningly against her chest.

Ashley jerked away from his touch. " You can't do this to me. I am like your daughter," she bit out.

Mr. Watson laughed at her words and paced across the room. His footsteps sounding off the walls. Blake was sitting like a statue in her chair. listening to everything, seeing everything but too helpless to do anything.

"Daughter? You are my slave, Ashley. My personal slave," the maliciousness in his voice rattled the strings of her heart. He resembled a maniac. A lunatic. How couldn't she see his true self?

"But don't worr