You'll Always Be Mine by Lara Verne

time to groom it. His eyes were a pale color of gray that they almost seemed colorless. His cheekbones cut perfectly into his face, making him look more mysterious. He was quite an attractive man.
     
                  Had he not been a murderer.
     
                  An uneasy smirk settled on his face as he looked down on my pale body. “Hey, don’t be throwing fits, Elizabeth.” he said sternly, “You could hurt yourself.” He walked into the room and closed the door behind of him. He looked over to me and smiled, overlooking my whole body.
     
                  “Why am I here?” I demanded, pulling my knees up to my chest. “Where are we? Why did you take me from--” Questions poured out of my mouth uncontrollably until he finally held up his hand, which made me stop talking.
     
                  “You’re here because this is where you belong,” he said calmly. “You are in our beautiful home far away from those horrible people.”
     
                  Tears streamed steadily down my face. I took shuddering breaths as I tried to calm myself. “What do you want from me?”
     
                  The man smiled amusingly. “I want you to be mine, Elizabeth, just like you want me to be yours.”
     
                  I froze at his words. I wanted him to be mine? He was crazy! There was no way in hell I wanted him! “You’ve got the wrong girl, I don’t know you.”
     
                  He chuckled and turned around, walking out of the door and returning with beige shopping bags. “These are for you,” he said, setting them on the bed. “You’ll be wearing them tonight for dinner.”
     
                  “Dinner?”
     
                  “Of course,” he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “You didn’t expect me to let you starve, did you?”
     
                  I had expected him to let me starve. After all, he’s only going to end up killing me. Why bother to feed me? Instead of responding, I went over to the bed and wrapped the throw blanket around me.
     
                  “I’ll be back in five minutes.” he informed me, “You should be ready by then.” With those words, he exited the room and closed the door behind him. I heard the faint click of a lock and sighed.
     
                  I brought my blanket up to my chest and stumbled off the bed. I walked over to the shopping bags, pulling out the clothes he bought me. There was a midnight black strapless dress, a necklace to accompany it and a pair of black stilettos. I laughed to myself before tossing them back into the bag.
     
                  I wasn’t dressing up. Especially not for him. He disgusted me.
     
                  I crawled back into bed, threw the blanket over me, and began to think to myself. It was obvious he had been the one to send me the secret admirer messages and I was almost certain that he had killed Ellen McHannon. What I didn’t understand was, why? I knew most serial killers didn’t become serial killers because it was their lifelong dream. Something tragic usually happens in their lives that corrupt their minds.
     
                  He came back not long after, bursting into the room without knocking. He smiled when he saw me and spoke softly, “Dinner is ready.”
     
                  I turned away from him and stared at the rocking chair.
     
                  “I see you haven’t put on your clothes,” He walked closer to me and sat on the edge of the bed. “I would really appreciate it.”
     
                  Like I would really care about what he appreciated.
     
    He sighed and began stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. “Dinner is ready, my love.”  His touch gave me goose bumps and definitely not the good kind.
     
                  “Okay,” I