Clover. That’s what he called himself. You were his flower, his pure and sweet flower. You had hated him from the moment he took you but he loved you deeply.

He didn’t hurt you unless you truly pissed him off. And he always made sure you stuck to the routine he had laid out for you. You had been planning an escape for years now but had never been able to put it into action.

“Flower! Dear flower I’m home.” His voice echoed around the house as he waited for you to greet him at the door.