She sat in the chair shivering. He paced back and forth, barking his tirade at the shadow of what was once a beautiful girl. Each hateful word he tossed was another plunging dagger into her dying self-esteem.

He taunted, badgered and bullied. He beat her bloody with his words and left her soul bruised for eternity. He lived to hurt. It thrilled him. To kill with words turned him on. His penis was fully erect.

And, he overflowed with hurt. Hurt her more than when he whipped her with this gun. Hurt her more than he ever could physically. Hurt her more than she could take.

The line had been crossed. She was nothing now. The thread-bare wisp of her self-esteem was gone. She was agony. Agony incarnate.

He stared at the broken girl. His ingenious plan almost complete. He had debased her beyond reason, and left her with more than enough drugs to finish the job.

He smiled when she reached for them.

He knew she would soon be dead.

And, when she died, he came.