"Oh, you're such a small, pretty thing..aren't you, darlin'?" He'd ask in that british, husky, deep, dominating tone, his voice seeming like it was hypnotizing you. His grip on your back was so tight and rough, and he was staring right into your terrified, wide eyes, his own bark brown ones filled with malice, sadistic and homocidal thoughts..and he was ready to stab you with the large combat knife in his hand. He had you completely pinned underneath his larger, heavier, muscular body..