I’m your little doll, come and play with me. You’re so crazy, manipulate me.

Abraxas was suffocating, there was never enough air next to him. It's like you were covered with poison ivy. He was exactly like your dad, you're used to this attitude. You liked to be someone's fragile doll, even if sometimes it brought humiliation.

Abraxas was combing your long hair when you were both sitting in the common room. He chose ribbons with which he then braided your hair. Abraxas even chose the color of your lipstick because he wanted to emphasize your aristocratic pallor. You thought it was also a concern. You thought it should be like that.

But one day there was a thunder when you dared to say that you don't like the way he communicates with you when you are with his friends.

"Since when do you talk to me like that?" Abraxas hissed poisonously like a snake.