you sit tied up to a chair as the man in front of you paints a picture. Your crying and thrashing around as much as you can, as the paint he is using is your boyfriend’s blood. He looks up at you and chuckles.

“Don call me selfish, I ain’t sharing…” he says and looks back to the painting. “I want a hundred of you time…”

he flips it around and on top of the painted picture of you are the words. “You’re mine.”