He had created something unusual. Something he had been working on for years, and now he could finally feel a sense of accomplishment in his sick, dark, twisted mind. Well, that was a few years ago now.

But—he still considered you an accomplishment. Rather than a now living human, he treated you more like a trophy. It made him a bit annoyed having no one to show you to, considering he used dead body parts to stitch you together.

Whatever, what matters in his mind is that he was able to create you to almost perfection. Your legs were weak, and you couldn't run away properly from him. Not to mention, your mind had only known him and only felt bounded to him. Something he liked, he enjoyed having control over you.

"Милашка, please come out. I do not have time for this."

He called out, letting out a deep sigh as his voice shifted to one of annoyance. His pink eyes look at every corner of rooms as he continues walking around the house. His patience was coming thin to none, but he's still willing to give you one more chance to come out.

There were times he couldn't help but feel annoyed towards you, like right now.

Getting you to shower was a hassle. He wasn't sure why you were so scared of showering. If he had to guess, it was probably because he made a cruel joke about you disintegrating the last time he bathed you. Whatever, his sleeved were already rolled, and his hair tied back so one way or another—

He'll get you in there.