Tu Fui, Ego Eris

"There's method in his madness."

- William Shakespeare


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Chapter 2: Aegri Somnia

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Fiona knew she dreamed, it was a bad dream, but that was all she knew. But she couldn't remember any of it now. There was that slight gap one has before they wake up and open their eyes, and this was filled with light. She could see light in her closed eyelids and for a millisecond wondered why this was. Suddenly, she remembered what happened before she fainted out. Riccardo...what he was...Why she was here...Azoth...

Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open.

"Ah, you're up."

His voice was distinguishable, instantly recognizable. She gasped, righting herself onto her hands and knees as she looked right in the direction of the words spoken to her. To her horror, he was right there, staring her in the face. There was something separating his face from hers, but if there was not, she would have bolted. But the level of absolute shock that riveted her was so much that she couldn't do anything but look right back into his eyes as she looked out, her own wide with terror.

"Fiona...I have decided you shall give birth to me."

Stunned, she could barely react. What...What...the hell did that mean?

Seeing this reaction, a sort of fear in her features, he tried to settle her down by issuing a calming statement.

"Don't worry; I do not intend to kill you. If you would just lend me your womb."

It was odd to her the way he said the last word, like he enjoyed the very word itself and was relishing in the way it rolled off his tongue. Moving his head slightly, almost joyfully, almost like he was thinking of something else when he said it...She thought she knew what. Gently, she shook her head back.

"...What?" She questioned, perplexed, hoping it was all some big joke.

"I shall be born again...This time, with your Azoth." And then he smiled at her, very wide, very brightly, and stood up.

She watched as he seemed to disappear into the darkness of the room. Again, she shook her head...But much more violently. It hit her; the pregnant statue of her, the man in the loft...It was him. He was planning to...Oh, God...

"No...NOOOOOOOOoooooooo!"

Fiona erupted like a volcano of despair, and realized she was trapped. Violently, she banged at the sides and top of the inescapable cube she was contained in, hoping it had a weakness, hoping for a way out. But it was all useless, her fists and palms hitting the transparent sides and just flexing back.

"NOOOO, nooooo! No...No..."

Continuing to scream, it fell on deaf ears. Her beating gradually lessened, and was replaced with a gentle stream of tears as she slowly sunk down onto the lighted floor of the strange device. Heart racing, body racked with a sort of pain at her side, head spinning...

"No...No...It can't be...No...I just...I just want to go home...No..."

Her hands came in front of her face, covering her eyes as her fingertips traced her hairline. Everything at once came falling down. She was stuck in here, with him, and now there was no way out. The world, the life she once knew was no more. Everything would change. This just can't be...This just can't...

"It can't be...It can't...This can't be happening...This isn't real..." She said in a low whisper, echoing her similar words in the guest suite from earlier that night.

The girl lay like this for several moments, and he watched from the shadows. He was sure to be standing in a spot where he couldn't be seen, heard, where none of the light that remained in the dark room hit and illuminated him. Raising his right hand, he held his chin as he looked at the pleading woman. It actually brought him both simultaneous moments of sick pleasure, yet sadness, to see her like this. He had to admit it was nice to have her suffer for all the atrocities she had committed against him, as well as those his father had against the whole family. As far as Riccardo was concerned, she was just as bad as him, being his spawn and all. Still, she was technically his child as well, and knew there was some dedication to their cause deep down inside her, somewhere.

He never wanted any of this to happen. It was all that damned Lorenzo, he was beginning to think he was manipulating her behind his back. How else would she be so very terrified of him? He had worked so hard to appear innocent, caring to her needs, one to help not to hurt. For the life of him he couldn't quite possibly understand this fear towards him. When he spoke to her in the music room, he knew she couldn't recognize him or his voice as she had never seen him, and the room was on such a different acoustic wavelength that it sounded so different, surely, he could get away with it. Now he was regretting this decision.

Yet, what was done was done. Now he had to deal with it. It actually started to pain him to see the girl crying in front of him, something that both surprised him and disturbed him, and so he turned, unlocked then went out the door. Fiona didn't see it, she was too busy staring at the reality of her "cage". Feeling like some zoo animal put out in display for the public to witness. Not that she could see much anyway considering her vision was blurry, her whole world sort of spinning before her.

Where did she go wrong? What did she do to deserve this fate? This proverbial hell-hole and it's demonic inhabitants that seemed to only wish her harm or perversity. She tried to live her life the way her mother and father wanted her to, clean, plain almost. Telling her and warning her of the dangers of sex, like STDs and pregnancy. Of never wearing anything low-cut or revealing. Movies and other media that was slightly offensive was banned in their house, she swore the only time she's ever seen an "R" rated movie was in college, and even then she was so afraid of what her parents would think she couldn't watch the intense part. She had lived a censored and mundane life before this.

This was the first time Fiona ever had to run for her life, be chased, defend herself against anything remotely dangerous. It came as a massive shock to her as it would anyone, but for her the idea of being in trouble...Not being treated like the innocent little girl that could do no wrong, with rich high-spending parents. Not being praised for her work in music or academics, but instead like an object of desire and obtainable magnificence.

A sort of writhing disgust filled her stomach when she realized that he got a hold of her. She had fainted, he could have done anything to her, she would have never known.

Did that freak Riccardo do something to me while I was asleep!? She thought to herself, hoping to God that it wasn't true. Her logic told her something different, however. Why wouldn't he? She was out cold...

With a dawning horror, she realized that her clothes felt different on her skin, and looked down. Now she noticed that she was wearing different clothes then what she had before. A cold, riveting shock shook her, and she immediately began to shake involuntarily. Before she was filled with despair, now it was fear. Not the sort of primordial fear of death, but of embarrassment and shame.

The fact that she was put into this gown, meant in itself she was undressed. Bile nearly came up and out her mouth at the thought of him touching her, doing things to her as she slept. Now that she thought more and more, she realized there was an uncomfortable sensation coming from her neither region. Something had been up there. This time, bile did come up, just a little. She spat it out, at the same time some tears beginning to well up again. She didn't feel any wetness, no real pain. Maybe this was all in her imagination.

"God, I hope he didn't do anything to me, please..." She whispered to herself, glad to hear someone's voice other then his.

Fiona lay down for a moment, somehow, she felt better than she should. A sort of swarming calm overtook, and overcame her. The lighted floor was cool and surprisingly clean. The light outside of the cube was slight, but enough to help make her relax. Her mind raced with possibilities, how she got like this, why she was here. He had told her, and she thought she knew. It was all still so cryptic. Why?

Azoth, and all this other alchemy stuff...What did it all mean, why her? She just wanted nothing more than to be at home, in her bed, resting for a good day or two after the whole incident. Her mother and father...She tried not to think of them. Because, she knew that if she did, she would never stop...Dead... they were both dead.

It was strange...Because even now she had no true hate for the man. No vengeful attitude or feelings of malevolence, she was not that sort at all. There was a sort of underlying disgust, there was something about him that made her want to run and run and never look back. Even before he carried a pistol and tried to kill her, there was an aura, a feeling of dangerous malevolence that pervaded her mind. Although he was nowhere in sight, she somehow felt that he wasn't far away at all, watching her. And seeing as there were cameras everywhere, that probably wasn't too far from the truth.

Several minutes passed, all the while Fiona laid on the cool floor and waited... As much as she despised the man, she just wished he would in the very least be here, so she could perhaps reason or speak with him. The waiting was the worst, all she could think of was what he had in store for her. The very idea, the very concept of what he was going to happen was too sickening for her, too vile and repulsive. Every time it arose, every time the image of her naked with her legs parted to the man popped up in her skull, she pushed it out.

At this point she moved a little to the right in the small cube, and felt a stab of pain at her side. She moved about in the limited space and lifted the ugly, blood-stained medical gown. Before she even got to her side, she noticed she was totally naked underneath. She knew she never had a bra in this place, but now she also possessed no underwear. Like a shot, she immediately pulled it back down. Pulling it up like that would leave her totally naked in case that horrid man came back. The fact that he actually removed her panties and saw her womanhood was not an assuring thought. She'd never even been to a gynecologist, let alone seen naked by a strange man. That image boiled up again, and like always racked her brain trying to dislodge it.

As the time went by, she began to grow curious. She looked this way and that, being absolutely positive he had not snuck in when she wasn't looking. Again, she lifted the sickening gown. Her heart beat in her chest loudly as she did so. Part of her was telling her that she wouldn't like what she was going to see. That something would be there that would confirm the worst of her fears. Evidence that he had raped her while she was out, or...

Now she looked at the newly stitched part of her anatomy and her eyes grew wide. What had he done to her!? It was a vertical slash, she had been so busy running from that crazed woman that she barely noticed the slice. It hurt little, but the amount of adrenaline in her system had dulled the pain, made her forget it was there or that it ever happened. Her heart thudded in her chest, what had he done, what was taken from her body!? She was afraid to touch it, but slowly did so, touching it with one finger and gently running it up and down the rail-road type pattern of stitches. It was clean, and a slight pain resonated from it.

She felt lightheaded, almost as though she was to faint again. But this time she tried to fight to the top of her cloud of consciousness, of her own stomach, anything to keep from going out again. Awake, she could fight Riccardo if he tried anything. When out cold, she would never know, never feel him inside her, she could wake up most likely placed in the same position, but no longer a virgin.

Her throat was parched, and she licked her lips and swallowed her own saliva to relieve it. And as she thought about how nice a glass of water would be, her stomach seemed to growl on cue, seeming to almost eat at itself in hunger. At this time she also realized her bladder was very full. She squeezed her legs together to hold it in. Now she almost wished for the horrible man to return so she could express to him just how badly she needed to take a piss. She also wished she had taken the opportunity to relieve herself when she was in the castle or mansion bathrooms.

"Goddamn it..." Fiona muttered to herself sadly.

Instead, she lay down, the tears drying on her face as her mind spun. She was so tired, but knew she would never be able to fall asleep even if she wanted to. The lights blaring at her from under her would stop this. His plan was already working, the lights causing sleep deprivation, the absence of food, water, or a bathroom already beginning to make her want to cooperate. It was only a matter of time. And he had plenty of that.

Fiona, on the other had, did not.

-----

As the girl struggled within her wire and plastic prison, her captor made good time. He locked the door behind him and made his way back out to the dog. Hewie was laying down, curled up in a small circle as he waited for somebody; Fiona or Riccardo, to come and retrieve him. At the sound of the door opening he lifted his head, noticing his approach. Glad to see somebody again, anybody. He stood up and gave a single wag of his tail, then stopped, the hackles along his back raising only slightly in fear as the homunculus came closer.

"Settle." Riccardo told the dog in a rather gruff tone.

Hewie had never heard this word, but did recognize the tone in which it was said. He was serious, demanding. Although he was still afraid, he did stand down, backing away as he came near. As he reached up, he untied the knot which held the dog to the torch sconce and again took the dog for a walk. Surprisingly he followed along much more willingly. Now he could smell Fiona here, knew she was close, sensed her nearby. Being with her again was important to the dog. It was his female, although he was pretty sure this larger, scarier male had claimed her for himself. If this was true he would have to stand down and relinquish his stature in this particular pack.

It was the oddest pack he's ever seen, though.

He went through a musty smelling room, where he thought he could smell the girl a room over, and he stopped when he noticed it. But he jerked the rope, sending him then through another door. Next came a room with what appeared to be a gigantic cage. At first he was immediately going to pull on the rope in avoidance, then he began to smell the female again. She was here before, her scent was strong.

Riccardo pulled open the gate to the cell, which he then left open. Oddly enough to him, the dog willingly went into the massive cage, then proceeded to walk about and sniff, tail held up in the air and wagging swiftly back and forth. Then he pulled the animal closer, breaking him from his little happiness spell. Carefully, he reached forward and undid the muzzle, sliding it off the dog's face simultaneously with the rope, and quickly backed up, then slammed the cell door in his face. He was still afraid of the animal, and his bites still stung.

The dog reacted by jerking backward, then began to bark, pacing his new cage and yelping in a combination of fear and claustrophobia. Immediately, the man growled in his throat right back. Reacting as the dog-man he rather was. He looked in the direction of Fiona's cell, hoping she hadn't heard it.

"Shut up, damn you!" He yelled at the animal.

Yet the dog was never taught this command, and so continued to bark without heed.

"I said shut up! Foul beast of a dog!"

This time he banged at the cage bars, practically hurting his own palms as he attempted to silence the shepherd. It still didn't work, and he was nearly boiling over in absolute rage. He turned and kicked at the wooden table, trying to relieve his anger on something inanimate since he couldn't reach the animal through the cage. Then as he calmed he turned back, and tried a new approach.

"I said stop it...I said no!"

His voice had a stern edge to it, a harsh one, a commanding one. It wasn't so much the loudness as it was the way he used the tone, and that last word. No. He understood no. He sat his butt down, and like that, he had stopped.

Riccardo just stood there, astonished at what had just occurred. Just what the hell did he do? The dog didn't understand him when he was screaming his brains out, but now he did...?

Had the clone knew what to do, he would have praised the dog. Instead, he growled in his throat again with irritation and confusion, and reached back into his pocket. He pulled out a small tube, and unscrewed it. Hewie watched in fascination as the man poured something into his hand. They were tiny beads, purplish-blue colored and smelled wonderful. Surprisingly, he reached through the bars, hand practically shaking as he pushed it towards the animal.

"Magna Esca." He said in a monotone voice.

"Eat it."

Hewie was understandably taken aback by this. Since when did this particular resident give a damn about him? Just hours ago he had shot him through his leg. It still ached. Yet he knew that this creature smelled funny, acted funny, looked funny, so perhaps there was more to him that met the eye. That could have been very well poison that he had in his hand for all he knew. Still, he was hungry and tired. And the man had taken care of him until then. What had he to lose?

Trusting his instinct to take any and all food offered, he sniffed the beads, judging them edible, then proceeded to lap them up. The small beads didn't taste like anything in particular, but they did excite his senses and make him nearly instantly feel better. Riccardo pulled his hand back, and made a face of disgust then wiped the animal's saliva on his pants.

"Filthy thing..." He remarked, and took a seat in the chair that sat across from the cell.

The dog could almost feel his wound healing, could sense a spring in his step and a sort of lightness. He felt wonderful. His emotional and physical health, his stamina, totally replenished. Tongue lolled out, he jumped on the cage bars, practically asking the strange man to come play with him. He instead received a cold, almost hateful glance, to which Hewie listened to, and went back onto four feet and towards the back of the cell.

He had hoped Fiona would appreciate this. The dog was now healthy and even appeared happy, joyful even. Seeing the dog react this way made him think of the woman he would soon have. The look on her face when she found out he was still alive, and not only that, but well and without a single wound. Of course, if she heard the barking this surprise would have been all spoiled, so he hoped against logic that she had not. Until then, the dog would make a good hostage. The dog could always be used as leverage, so he wouldn't kill or hurt it, but he would deny them both food if she refused to have him care for her. He would refuse even the most basic of needs.

At this point Riccardo noticed he was getting hungry himself, thirsty as well. His stomach growled almost on cue, and he tried to remember where the food was in this hole. There was some barrels in the hallway that contained jerky, bread, crackers, and other dry food. Far from the expensive, gourmet meals the maid would cook in the castle. But unlike most high-end upper class dwellers, he was used to eating like this on the occasion. His work in alchemy meant having to snack on the stuff when he couldn't report to the castle at a designated meal. Still, he could have used a good dish right then. Perhaps a leg of lamb, or a some good mutton...

There was a half-full bottle of wine across from him sitting on the table. He considered taking a drink of it to relieve his thirst, but couldn't help but be put-off by how long it had been there and how warm it would be. Finally, curiosity got the best of him and he reached across the table and took hold of it. There was no label, long since worn away. He knew it would be a good year, all their wine was. For a moment he remembered how big of a wine connoisseur his brother was, and once again threw the memory from his head. He popped the cork and took a whiff. Ahhh, it still smelled divine. Sitting in a musty water tower for years had not damaged it's quality at all. Sitting back, he took a long swig of the alcoholic drink. He relished the taste on his lips, the way it quenched his thirst. It may have been piss-warm, but it was refreshing nonetheless. The dog seemed to be watching this from his cage almost as if begging.

"You don't want this." Riccardo said to the dog, laughing in his throat.

Hewie whined, and proceeded to lay down next to the bars. He was hungry and thirsty himself. After downing half the bottle, he grew hungry again and left the gaze of the dog and the wine at the table. Looking at the empty seat, he waited for the human to return with hopefully some food this time. The Magna Esca had not filled his stomach. With his fine hearing, the sound of a barrel being rolled, then smashed, cracked, and opened resonated throughout the halls. He watched as he came back walking with his arms full of packets. The dog jumped up, eyeing him, hoping to get a piece himself.

The man sat at the table again, and almost immediately began to rip into the food just as savagely as a starved animal would. And ate in much the same way. When he got to the jerky, Hewie began to whine in desire. Each time he took a bite he sidled closer to the bars and pawed at them. Then his cries got louder, almost reaching a bark. He felt his eyes on him, the same fierce stare the girl knew of. Purely to shut him up, a piece was tossed his way. It was tiny and had a chunk taken out of it, but he didn't care. It was gobbled up and swallowed before he could blink.

Again he took a drink, and this time finished it off and set it on the table. Another empty bottle to add to the collection. For just a few moments he sat there, staring into space. Fiona swam back into his thoughts, of their future together. His new life with her. He began to fantasize about her body, there, before him. Naked and blushing red as she lay there. In his mind he saw himself taking her legs and spreading them wide once again, but this time not to check. She gasped and moaned underneath him, preparing herself for each thrust and closing those very same legs around his waist with enthusiasm. In his ears he heard her voice...Melodic, praising him and asking him not to stop.

Like by instinct, his hand began to wonder down his stomach, where it levitated briefly, then continued downward. Undoing the rope that kept his pants up, he slid into them with ease. For a moment he sat there, shuddering and letting out a sort of relieved sigh. Then his eyes shot open, and suddenly his hand was back up and on the table. He slammed it down, then began to pant as he tried to fight his wave of arousal.

"No..." He said to himself.

"No...I need to save it...Save it..."

He had a deformed, unhealthy body. His Azoth synthesized in low amounts, just barely sufficient enough for him to function as a human being and not some living doll like the maid. This was also true of his genetic material, taking much longer to produce and in small numbers. He was fertile, but just enough. His count always low, his chances of fertilizing anything from an egg in a woman to an egg in the cloning tanks was always almost slim to none. If he did this, the rate at which his body produced the new supply would be lengthened. His count taking anywhere from two months to get back up to a level that would do any good. That would be too long, It would be simply for fun, that was all. And as much as he wanted to make love to the woman, he wanted it to be a rather nice incentive and a bonus, not the main reason.

"Goddamn this body!" He suddenly yelled in rage at the top of his lungs, then slammed his fist down on the table.

The glasses rattled, and Hewie backed up in the cell. Again, he sat and stared, his panting returning to normal as he regained his previous composure. He couldn't even make a normal child with his own seed using his own handiwork in the lab, because he was so defected. Now he couldn't even satisfy his own urges because of it. Damn his foul creator for doing this to him...

He sat still in the chair. Looking into space. Boring his eyes through the wall on the opposite side. He could hear the pitter-pat of water dripping from the pipes that were old, and in need of being fixed. Then he again gazed at the dog, who was now laying down at the back of the cell.

"Soon." Riccardo said to the animal.

"Soon, dog. Just you wait. You'll see her soon. And now so will I."

Standing, he fixed the rope and tied it into a suitable knot. He wanted to appear presentable to his mistress. He hoped she would be delighted to see him again, though he knew that she would probably just scream her head off at him as always. Like a new pet, he had to visit her, he was too excited, had to see her at least once more before he went hunting for his creator again. Once he was disposed of, she would no longer need to be like a crated puppy. She could be free to run, to try and flee, but in the end she would always find herself in one place.

His arms.

-----

Fiona never did hear the dog bark, or if she did, she didn't seem to notice. She seemed to be going in and out of a haze, her vision blurry and body fevered with stress. Any barks heard echoing throughout the large place may have been interpreted as her last memories, of the dog that fled into the woods and was shot. The dog that was shot by the same man holding her prisoner, and the faithful dog that was now most likely dead. This one thought disturbed her most of all, that he had killed her only rescuer, her only companion and protector in this evil place. That man may have protected her against that hulking giant, but when he was really needed he was somewhere else, doing God knows what.

The thought of Hewie being dead, never leaving the position she left him in, made her more despaired then angry. All she wanted to do was to be able to back up this night, rewind back to when she was riding in the car with her mother and father. She could tell her daddy to just go another way, take a right when they should have took a left. Sped up when they saw a man in the opposite lane that shouldn't have been there to begin with.

Why did he do this to her? Why did he hate her so...?

She began to cry again, tears silently slipping from her eyes and onto the lighted floor. How she wanted to just stand up and be able to move, to run...To run away from him and right on out of here.

Suddenly she heard footsteps again. Then they paused not to far outside the door, she strained to listen. What she heard was, oddly enough, the flush of a toilet and then the sound of water running. There was a bathroom! Oh, sweet merciful God, she didn't care anymore, she needed to go now.

Fortunately...Or rather, unfortunately, she didn't have to wait long. The door was unlocked and he stepped through. He seemed slightly different in demeanor this time. Less confident, disheveled, the rope belt about his waist tied haphazardly and his face flushed. She looked away almost instantly, looking at him reminded her too much of her father for comfort. Deep down inside she could never think of the two as being anyway alike. This man was...Evil. Horrible. Besides appearance there was little he had in common. Even his voice was slightly different, had a certain edge to it she couldn't name.

This was not her father by any means. Though she had to admit he was a definite facsimile, a replica, a doppelganger...The "evil twin" so to speak. She didn't want to even imagine the idea of her being related to the man in some way, having half of himself inside her. There was just no way. She was nothing like this man.

Fiona didn't know how this so called "cloning" happened or what it entailed. How it was done, when, and how her father all had something to do with this. Perhaps he was lying. All she knew was that she didn't want to find out. Only to leave, and as soon as possible. That...and use the bathroom.

He glanced at her, then gave her a small smile again. She averted her eyes, crossing her legs the best she could and trying to turn her back to him. The question lingered on the tip of her tongue, wanting desperately to ask it but wanting nothing to do with the supposed "clone". Approaching, he came up to her back, noticing her rather uncomfortable stance.

"Fiona..." His charming voice rang.

It was a little too charming, a little too nice. It was...Creepy.

"Fiona?" He asked in a bit of a more questioning manner.

Nothing.

Tilting his head at the woman, his smile crept back. Ah, the first symptom of coping. Denial.

"Oh, miss Fiona..." Riccardo tried again.

"Why won't you talk to me? You appear to have something on your mind."

He walked closer to his prison, placing his palm on the surface as he peered at her clothed backside. In his mind he saw himself lifting that clothing up and off her body, but tried to block it out. Thoughts like that got him in trouble.

She could feel his eyes on her body, moving up and down her form. Finally, her body screamed out, and she couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would let her out and she could use this opportunity to escape when he wasn't looking.

"Miss Fiiiooooonnnnnaaa-" He drew out in a rather irritating manner, but she interrupted.

"Please..." She closed her eyes, not believing that she was actually communicating with the man.

"Ah, so you can speak." He taunted, rather glad he had finally gotten it out of the girl.

"...Yes...I..."

"You...What? What is it, my dear? Did you need something?"

God, he was only making this more difficult.

"I need to use the bathroom..." Fiona said in a tone barely above a whisper, too ashamed to admit it.

"Excuse me?" The clone replied, not quite sure what she said.

"I need to use the restroom..." She tried again, just a little louder.

He smiled wide again, so it didn't take long for her to break. She already had come to asking him for favors and other such desires, needs. He was now her only way out of that tiny cube.

"Well then," He replied, his smile a little too enthusiastic and happy for her liking.

"That's fine. But first, you need to promise me something."

Oh shit...What? Fiona asked herself.

"...What?"

"Promise me you won't run. You won't try anything. Let me touch you..."

She was repulsed by this, and immediately began to shake her head.

"...Not like that, my dearest Fiona. I mean, just let me take your hand in mine, that's all I ask."

Her whole body shook at the thought, just letting the man touch her in a voluntary way made her sick to her stomach.

"I'll even give you you're privacy. You have my word."

His word? Could she really trust his word? This was a murderous pervert who undressed and did who knows what to her while asleep. What did he expect of her, to trust and hang on every sentence that came out of his mouth? Though, she had to admit that he hadn't lied to her since. Every word has been the truth, he didn't appear the deceptive sort. Rather, he seemed a man that would relish in the pain the absolute truth entailed, especially since the truth tended to hurt. It was better then pissing herself in this prison, which would have been rather uncomfortable and embarrassing on her part.

"...Okay..." She just barely whispered.

He heard it this time, his ears trained to listen to her slight voice, her lyrical voice that practically got him off right then and there. Walking over to the same place he locked the prison he then got out his keys and put them back into the console. To her shock, the top of the cube opened up. She jerked back in surprise, somehow not expecting it to be that easy. There appeared to be no mechanism to even allow the action, how did it work?

But this was fleeting, and she took the opportunity to stand up, pushing the slowly moving top down forcefully as she did so. She could feel her back sort of crack back into place, and damn did it feel good, her body back into a vertical position as it should be. Now she stood on a pedestal instead of being trapped in one. Yet, she was no queen on a throne. Her whole body was shaking and face was stained with tears. She blinked, then wrapped her hands around herself to help ease the sort of chill she was experiencing, because his eyes were staring into her again.

She wasn't paying attention because of this, and was frightened and appalled as she saw his hand suddenly come into her vision. It was an open palm, and it was being offered to her. Ignoring it, she went and tried to get down herself. As she tried to get one leg over the walls of the plastic prison, she realized there was no real way to do so without falling over the sides. As much as she hated it, she needed his help.

Clamping both her mouth and eyes shut, she reached out and took his hand. It was surprisingly warm to her skin, and he wasn't as "grabby" as she initially expected him to be. Actually being rather gentle and careful. She didn't want to see any sort of satisfaction this was bringing the man, she kept her eyes closed as he very slowly pulled her forward and down.

Once again her leg shakily came up and tried to go over the edge. However she still came up short, and as she misstep and went to tumble forward, he instinctively wrapped his other arm around her waist and caught her. She gasped and immediately revolted in the sensation of his body against hers in any way, and without thinking, shot her arms out and began to smack at the man in contempt and fear.

Despite only being hit in the chest, it was a shock to Riccardo, too. He winced and withstood her smacks for a minute, then just plain dropped the woman on the floor. He wasn't particularly meaning to, but he wasn't the tolerant sort to begin with. She landed on her butt, too shocked to move.

"Fiona, if you are not willing to let me help you, then the rest of your life is going to be very difficult. Especially this particular evening."

He didn't sound angry, which surprised her. Instead, he was more disappointed. Forgetting herself, she looked up at him, and found herself slightly less horrified then before. In the dark it was hard to make out any of his features, his face hidden in the shadows. Still, those eyes, like always, were so easy to feel. Even when he wasn't there...They had their effect. She looked away, mostly in fear, but also in shame.

Which was right in time, because he knelt down, and she could feel him so close to her again. He offered his hand once more, and this time she took it. She felt herself pulled up and back onto her feet with ease. Unlike before however, he didn't let go. At first she was going to tell him to stop, to get off of her...But she did agree to do this. Fiona was a woman of her word, even when the thought of whether he was or not still lingered.

Again his other arm went to wrap around her waist, treating her like some limp hospital patient. But she knew she could call him on this, and wiggled out.

"I said you could hold my hand...That was it." She told him, an err of confidence edging into her voice.

Riccardo almost laughed out loud as he heard this, and realized she was right. So, surprisingly to her, he obeyed. His arm came back around to his side, holding it up and showing it as a demonstration of peace.

"Yes, 'm Lady. I apologize."

Almost instantly he swore he could feel her hand sweat, like she wanted to be away from him and across the room immediately. Not that she didn't want to before, but at least then she was tolerating it. Her hand shook in his grasp, and she swallowed, obviously thirsty and nervous. Frightened even, on the verge of fainting again.

"Don't...Please, don't call me that."

He made a small laugh in his throat, one that made her want to run from him again.

"But Fiona, you are the Lady of this castle...And you will soon be my Lady-"

"I don't want to be in this castle let alone own it...! I want to go home! All I ever wanted to do was go home! And I'm not you're anything!"

There was a visible "twitch" that she saw happen inside the man as she looked at him. And at that point she realized she should have shut up.

"What?"

Her mouth refused to work, she stammered, the grip of his formally warm and semi-inviting hand becoming rather tight and uncomfortable.

"Fiona, this is your home! Don't you understand girl? You cannot leave, you are mine, I own you!"

As he said this, Fiona once again began shaking her head, she refused to believe this. There had to be hope somewhere...

"You are mine, I own you!"

As he said it again, he leaned in even closer. His face mere inches from hers, his voice righteous, triumphant. Then he placed his other hand on her cheek, shocking her and making her gasp, her hand reaching on top of it and pushing it away. For the first time, she felt his breath on her neck and face. It was hot, like he was breathing fire itself. She turned from him, closing her eyes and walking backwards, still with her hand in his...

...And she hit the wall. Being forced against it.

Just like when in that strange room with the woman floating in that tube, something stopped her, and she was forced to face him. This time, however, he didn't have a gun. He didn't need one. Then she heard him laugh, that...evil, narcissistic laugh that seemed both horny and dominating at the same time. Then she watched as he came nearer, powerless to stop him. His breath once again fell upon her neck as he leaned in, the fabric of his clothing just barely brushing her chest. She gasped again, her stomach quarrelling and other hand reaching up to rest on his body and gently push him back. Turning her face, closing her eyes, she didn't want to think about just how close he was to...kissing her, or whatever he was planning to do.

She waited but...Nothing.

"I tire of your refusing me, miss Fiona." He chortled, ending the tense silence.

He was, but he still had patience. Though right then, in a fit of retribution, he had the utmost urge to throw away all his careful planning and just fuck her already. He saw it all so vividly in his head, grabbing her by that short blond hair, then forcing it down and away from him, towards the wall. Then throwing that gown up and over her head so he could see her breasts as he took her from behind. Finally relieving his sexual tension and frustration this girl had caused him since her arrival. He shook in desire at the thought, his mind full of the fantasies. Regardless, he knew such a daring action would screw him over in terms of his grand plan. He may have wanted to breed the woman, but he wanted to do it right, and get what he really wanted, a child.

That was all he ever wanted, but now that he saw her, heard her speak...He had to have it all.

"...Remember your word..." Fiona said, pushing him back slightly, to which he allowed her to do.

Then he broke out of his spell. It was odd, the woman just had to speak to him to drive him from a frenzy. She did it on the cliff, and she did it now. What sort of power just did this woman posses over him?

"Yes..." Riccardo returned, then held up her rather delicate hand, which was still in his grasp.

She opened her eyes and watched as he then brought it closer, and to his lips. He kissed it tenderly along the top of her fingers, then another peck at the knuckles, then the top of her hand. In horror, she made a small cry of dismay. Then he took the other hand and took both in his palm, holding it like they had been lovers forever.

"...I am a man of my word."

A sort of chill filled Fiona, not so much disgust anymore, but just fear and anxiety over this man and what he was trying to do. Right now she had one thing on her mind, and that was what her body needed.

"Please, can I go now?" She cut it, breaking the mood which thankfully did not escalate.

For a moment he was just staring at her, and she looked away again. Goddamn his eyes. They were a slightly different color then her father's, which were more of a green. Strange, she considered, seeming as they were supposed to be clones. All she could reason was that perhaps her father was the odd one out even in this genetic freak circus she found herself in. Somehow, the idea that this was supposed to be her own father, genetically, still didn't gel with her. How could this be? How could any of this be?

"Fine." He finally admitted.

Her bladder felt about ready to explode, and was relieved to see him backing away from her again. Taking her hand still, he moved forward and to the door. He clamped down a bit harder on her hand as he went to unlock it, and she knew why. Riccardo knew she would try and bolt, and he wasn't particularly wrong in this assumption, but she had hoped that he would be more trusting and her and allow her some freedom. She then noticed just how calloused and worn his hands felt, dry, leathery. Like somebody had wrapped a very old, peeled and cracked leather jacket around her hand and heated it to a hundred degrees. It didn't feel normal. But then, he really wasn't, was he?

Because if what he said was true. That he was a "clone", created by another man, then he was artificial. Not like a robot or something like that, but they were not creations of nature. Nature did not create him inside a woman's uterus, but by the hands of man. He was the opposite of normal, ever since birth, and never would be.

There was a very, very slight shot of pity that ran through her, in the form of a chill, at the thought. Yet it was small, and it was fleeting. She pushed it out of her mind and body. This was a horrible man, she told herself, one guilty of many crimes including murder and animal cruelty. He killed her parents. He killed her dog. She should feel nothing but hate and contempt, and wish him a death on a grand scale.

Yet as he held her hand, despite the strength he possessed and the sort of pressure he was now putting on it, she felt him gently caress her knuckles with his thumb as he worked the tremendous lock. And oddly, and disturbing to her was that it was starting to feel really good. It began to calm her...it began to make her feel a sort of warmth in her body that was growing from her core outward. A comfort. For the life of her she couldn't understand why.

It opened with a noisy creak into a slightly lighter room. She immediately closed her eyes at the sudden change in light, and was very briskly moved from the pump room in which she was contained and into the musty-smelling bathroom. He led her straight over to the one door that led to the tower, then the other door that led to the tunnel, locking both with his ring of keys. Then he let her go, and she took the opportunity to wrench her hand away from his strong grasp, slowly moving it to her chest where it rested in anxiety. Her gaze was cast downward, not wanting to see the man in the new found light.

He took this time to wonder about the room, checking under the sink, in the cabinets, making sure there was no way the girl could make a weapon, or a lock pick. It was rather bare all things considered, as it was used so rarely. Satisfied, he turned to Fiona.

"You have five minutes. I'll be counting, and listening."

Those words seemed to steal her breath away as he actually walked away from her, gave her one last look...On the off chance he may never see her again...And left out the pump room door. She heard him open the door, and make the attempt not to shut it completely, leaving it a crack open. Looking in it's direction, she took a long awaited deep breath, despite the dry, musty air of the current locale, it was better then what was in that...cube.

She wrapped her arms about herself, a sudden chill overcoming her. It was rather cold down here, too. At least Riccardo was dressed to be here...Wherever "here" was, it sure didn't look like the castle or mansion...Yet she was in just a strange medical gown, with a large blood-stain, for that matter. She didn't want to think about on how many bodies, live or dead, it had been dressed on as well. Fiona wanted answers. And when she felt her courage work it's way up, she would ask.

Fiona turned and looked around the room she was in. Unlike the mansion and castle's facilities, this was rather lax in expensive tastes. There was a sink on one wall, and a toilet on the other. There was a wooden table beside the sink that had a box of what appeared to be some very old tissues that had since been collecting dust. Also, a bottle of some sort of hand soap and another the same sort of lotion she saw in the other bathrooms. This one appeared as old as the ages.

The sink was a bare porcelain, and above it the first intact mirror...Besides the ones shrouded in curtains, that was...she had seen in this place. Above it a small light that shone down to illuminate the whole room rather well. Right now, though, she looked towards the real thing in the room she needed to use.

There was something unsettling, disturbing, and just plain disgusting about using the same toilet as the inhabitants of this wretched place. It was why she refused to use the communal ones in the castle and mansion before, and a decision she was now regretting. And now she had to use the same one that, from what she had heard, her captor had also just used as well. Her whole body shook, trying not to think about it as much as she was. She then realized that one minute had gone by with her just standing there, four remained.

Quickly, without looking or thinking, she just lifted the seat and sat down. At which she just realized that she probably could have put some toilet paper on the seat beforehand. Fuck. Well, it was too late now. She leaned forward, arms resting on her knees as her vision blurred, a sort of stress hitting her and making her feel sick to her stomach. Even now she couldn't go, the idea of him behind that door listening to her urinate wasn't a comforting one, making her embarrassed to even relieve herself now that she finally had the chance to do so.

"I don't hear any pissing." His voice rang from behind the door, which both shocked and shamed her at the same time.

It took her another minute, but his comment did it. He heard her as she finally let loose, and when she went...she went. Sighing in a sort of relief, he could tell she felt a million times better already. He grinned a bit at the perverse thought, and once again listened to her as she flushed, then the running of water as she was washing her hands. Carefully, he crept the door open. He wanted to see the girl when she didn't think he was looking.

She stood at the mirror, leaning in slightly to view her absolutely flawless face and perfect skin. Then she splashed some of the running water into her face, rubbing her eyes as if trying to wake herself out of what she perceived to all be just one horrible nightmare. She rested her elbows on the sink, then put her face in her palms. A slow, warbling cry escaped her lips.

"Mommy...Daddy..."

His arms dropped to his sides, and he sighed to himself. If he were a normal man, with a full array of emotions, he might have felt remorse and guilt for what he had done. But he was a false human, artificial, a shell of a clone. The closest he came was a sort of empty sensation, or a of sadistic happiness over the act. Right now, however, he had a rather new feeling. Regret. He had upset his Lady, his one and only Lady. His Fiona. Yet he didn't feel sorry for the death of Ugo and Ayla, his clone-brother, and his sister in law. Instead, he felt as though he had let her down. He had a lot to make up for, and soon he would start when he would try to woo her.

All in good time...He could be patient when he needed to be.

"Are you finished?"

This surprised her again, and she spun around, back against the sink as she stood. He stepped out of the darkness and into the light, and she could see him fully. Even clearer then he was on the cliff. Indeed, at first glance he appeared to look like her father. Scars, deep cracks both laterally and vertically lined his face. Some looked superficial, while others seemed genuinely painful as they were actually open and she could see a hint of red where the flesh was literally split apart. Facial hair lined around his mouth, something that her father never seemed to want to grow and kept it fastidiously groomed to prevent it. He had more hair then her father, but not by much. It appeared that he kept it shaved, but he still seemed to have a receding hairline. He had sideburns, but were kept down to nothing but stubble. Yet they were obvious enough.

He looked at her...Right at her, his eyes once again seeming to be looking at more then just her body, like they were boring into her core. Even from here she could see their color; a dark blue. A slight shade different then her almost cerulean eyes, but not enough of a difference to not creep her out. Her father had greenish blue eyes, her mother brown. It was always a mystery where she got her color from, now she knew. And it wasn't a happy discovery.

That drab outfit he wore reminded her of a monk, but this was far from it's real intention. Rather, it was a traditional steward's uniform from the medieval times. She found it odd that in this modern day and age that they would continue to use such old techniques and ways of life. His hood was down, it had remained so from their encounter in the forest. It was a brown color, the material reminding her of burlap, but when she had brushed against it, it had turned out to be much softer then anticipated. A rope tied around his waist, ankles and wrists kept the clothing tight, and a small symbol of two snakes entwined around a cane lay below the neckline. A simple pair of sandals made up his foot wear, his feet visible. She found her eyes drawn to them, as she didn't want to look him in the eye. Thank God they didn't particularly look as bad as his face.

For Riccardo, this had to be the first time since the examination room he had seen her so clearly. Even in the cube she was too busy screaming and beating at the sides for him to really get a good look at her. Now she stood there, chest heaving from surprise and with a look of bewilderment upon her face. She started to blush, blood raising to her cheeks in pure embarrassment at having being caught like this. Luckily enough she had not been on the can at the time, it could have been much worse.

Her hair was short, blond, and rested about her shoulders. Those large eyes, a dazzling light blue, were her most striking feature. The skin that she possessed, much unlike his own, was soft, velvety and flawless. Not a birth mark, aside from the mark on her shoulder, was in sight. She was fair, not tanned in the slightest and looked to have spent little time outside at all, again, unlike him who at times had to work hours out in the courtyard fixing and tending to anything that needed work. As was his duty as the keeper of the castle. Fiona had a rather archaic beauty to her, not like the rather unhealthy and pencil-thin young woman he had seen in this day and age. She looked to have just walked out of a medieval painting, her blood unaltered and unchanged as it was from nine-hundred years ago. No wonder why she always seemed to stand out in a crowd. It was as though she had traveled forward in time, she didn't belong in this day and age, none of them did.

Without a bra, her breasts sagged only slightly, but not by much. She was well-endowed, something that made him very happy. This particular garb accentuated them a bit more by it's plainness. The lower edges of the gown came down just enough to hide her crotch from him, a slight breeze would have been enough to do it. Now she was also barefoot, her pink and fleshy toes exposed to him as looking rather tender and easily marred. No doubt she was freezing, but this was also part of his plan. When somebody was so very cold, they were more likely to want to be by somebody who was more then willing to share their warmth.

"I...I..." She stuttered, unable to say much of anything.

"Well, are you?" He asked again.

"Yes..."

"Then come, it's time to go back."

She took a step back, her whole body quivering at the concept of going back into that thing.

"No...I, I don't want to..."

"Fiona, I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

At this point her eyes wondered the rather bare room, looking for something to use as a weapon. Nothing! Just when she had the chance to fight back, there was nothing here!

"Why...?" Fiona tried to reason with the man. "Why do I have to be in there? I won't run..." She lied.

"Oh, now, Fiona. You're a terrible liar." He caught, and smirked just a little as he advanced.

Once again she backed away from the man, and hit a wall. She had nowhere to go. Surprisingly enough, he didn't come much closer this time.

"What did you do to me...?" Fiona finally questioned, just as his arm reached forward and took her hand into his again.

He looked up at her, but she looked away again. His eyes far too harsh and now far too recognizable. It seemed to take him a moment to find the right answer, whether this was because he was afraid to tell her, or if he was trying to fabricate a fake answer she wasn't sure.

"I didn't do a thing to you, dear."

Fiona shook her head, he was lying.

"You're a terrible liar." She repeated back to him, her voice cracking from stress, fear, and thirst.

That was a mistake.

She suddenly felt that same, once helpful hand, now on the back of her head. He grabbed her hair, then wrapped his other arm around her waist to prevent her from running from him. She screamed, but was too horrified to even fight back, to react. His hand twisted her face into his gaze so she would have no choice but to look him in the eye. Her eyes closed again.

"Open your eyes!"

"No!"

"I said open your eyes!"

Begrudgingly, she did as told, tears beginning to stream from them. She did indeed catch him in the eye. Her whole body shook with revulsion and fear. What was he going to do to her now?

"Listen to me when I speak, Fiona. I will not repeat myself. I do not lie. I may walk around the truth, I may avoid it, I may exaggerate...But I do not lie. Especially not to you."

His words were not angry, but they were deep, and they had their effect. Fiona could tell, he was serious.

"What about...What about these stitches...What did you take from me?"

This surprised Riccardo, not quite understanding what she was implying.

"Now what would I want with your kidneys, Fiona? That's the only organ that happened to be near that wound. I have no use for them, and mine work just fine. Don't you remember? You were hurt by something in the castle. I sutured it back together."

For a moment she couldn't quite react. He healed her? Why in the hell would he do that? She still wasn't quite sure what was to become of her, what he was going to do to her. But this seemed to much unlike a man that was previously chasing her about, shooting at her with a gun and barely missing. Now he suddenly cared?

"Wh-why?" She spat out, actually willingly looking into those eyes again to see if he was really lying or not.

Cocking his head, he smiled very lightly at the girl.

"Because you are mine, my dear. And I take care of my most prized possessions."

This revolted her, made her want to just crawl into a hole somewhere and die. She was a woman, not some object to be owned by anybody. Those times were over, she was raised in a free society where woman had just the same rights of man. They were equal, not possessions. This wasn't true...It just couldn't be.

"No..."

"Yes." He corrected.

He wanted so desperately to kiss her, to just lean in and slide his tongue in between her lips and passionately make out with her. Pulling her body closer to his as he nibbled at her luscious flesh and felt her warmth. But no...He could not, it was not yet time. However, it was killing him inside. Not kissing her right then, when he knew he probably should be licking at the inside of her mouth, was torture. Utter torture.

Watching her, she closed her eyes again and tried to look away. This time, out of respect for his latest member of the family, he let her. Relinquishing his hold on her hair. Gently, he stroked it back into place and was worried momentarily that he had actually hurt her. Still, he kept his hold on her waist.

"Did you-"

"Absolutely not." He interrupted, knowing what she was going to say next.

"I undressed you, I examined you, and I dressed you back into the gown. I also did a test to check your vaginal state. But I did not attempt a thing with you."

Fiona's mouth dropped, and she started to double over.

"Are you alright?" He questioned, an err of concern creeping into his voice.

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

Riccardo let go of her, backing up, and she scooted past him and to the sink. She bent over and spit out another small amount of bile, collecting in the dirtied porcelain. For a moment she stood like this, mind swimming...Trying to push down the small amount of food that she still had in her stomach. Something told her she would need it.

"Why...Why did you touch me...Why did you do that...?"

Although she had a concept of what the man wanted with her, using her...womb, as he put it, to birth him again. Yet she had hoped desperately that she was wrong. That what he meant was not true. But now, it was without question. He wanted to fuck her.

"Fiona, I believe I already explained it to you. My apologies. Perhaps I was too cryptic." He answered, and took a step behind her.

Carefully, he couldn't stand it anymore, and he made a small advance. His right hand came around and under, and was softly placed below her stomach, just where her womb would be.

"I want you to have my child."

Her eyes widened twice as much as before, and she realized he was touching her. Touching her somewhere where he really shouldn't be. His words rang deep, and she felt sick all over again. Before he had the chance to even move the hand in an advancing or caressing manner, she spun around which caused his hand to fall away from her body.

"You said you wouldn't touch me!" She cried, her voice unstable.

"You gave me you're word...!"

His hands came up, and he smiled rather innocently.

"I said I wouldn't touch you as you implied would be wrong, m'Lady." He corrected.

"...Yet I told you that I would not lie to you, and I won't...But I did walk around the truth, didn't I?"

Fiona shook her head, putting her face into her palms to try and calm herself.

"However, if you want me to stop, then I will."

She couldn't deal with this anymore. With him, with anything.

"Did you need a drink of water? Or some food-"

He didn't finish the sentence, she was too busy running past him and into the pump room. At first he didn't understand for the life of him why she wanted to be away from the sanctuary he had made her one minute, then in it the next.

"Just put me back in the damn thing!" She cried as she ran to the room, her voice breaking into sobs.

"As long as it keeps me away from you!"

For a moment he wasn't sure how to react. He watched as she moved away from him and disappeared into the room, past the large metal door. And for the first time since he met the girl, he wasn't apt to want to chase after her.

That stung.

Riccardo wasn't used to this feeling, to the idea of being hurt in return. For so long he was used to never getting what he wanted, even what he needed, to being the trash of this family, the black sheep. The failure. He was never given the best of anything, and was used to being trampled on and pushed aside. His desires never important next to his creator's, and years ago, Ugo's. Yet he felt as though this could truly work, him and Fiona. He felt as though this woman could truly care for him as much as he cared for her. And although he knew it would be difficult, it was still routed as a possibility in his mind. He was delusional, but he was hopeful, and he was happy. When she refused him the first time, he forgave her. Yet she was continuing to do so, despite his good will, his seemingly good intentions. And instead of angering him this time, it had hurt him. He had never shown any sort of care before, and he had at least expected it back. Instead, it had been thrown in his face.

She disappeared into the room. Carefully, slowly, he followed suite. A blank expression on his face. Somehow she had hoisted herself into the prison, smashing herself back into there and with her back turned to him, shaking rather violently. Again the keys came out, and it closed airtight. He didn't say goodnight, he didn't even look at her. Even he got tired, even he needed rest, and even he could be hurt by unrequited love. He shut the door, locking it behind him.

With a deep, growling sort of sigh, he turned around and rest his back against the door. He wouldn't sleep tonight, even though he so desperately wanted to. Instead, he would make to the mansion and take a stamina formula, replenishing himself and allowing his hunt to continue. He would retrieve his gun from the cliff side where he left it, and the old man would die tonight.

If he couldn't make her love him, then he would earn it. Through his father's blood.

------------------

Fiona lay in the cold, plastic cube. She drummed her fingers on the surface, her body wracking and heaving as she once again began to cry. Now that she knew the man was gone, knew for a fact, she did everything she was afraid to before. She screamed out curses at him, cried for her mother and father. Then she rose up violently and smacked again at the sides, the top. Though she knew it was useless, it wasn't the point.

"Motherfucker!" She screamed, beating at it again.

"Goddamn you! Goddamn you, burn in hell, you fucking bastard!"

She was never the sort to swear, to wish ill on anyone, regardless of what they've done. But extraordinary situations can make any and all persons react out of character, and now she sought to unleash all her anger and misery on this plastic prison. Since she couldn't do it on the real criminal himself, she instead did so to one of his creations. Soon her hands became raw, and her voice even more dry and cracked then it already was.

Slipping to the floor, she gave up. If only she had Hewie with her, her faithful loving dog. He could have attacked that monster, made him pay. They could have somehow escaped, fled the scene. Maybe they could have been out those gates by now.

Just thinking of Riccardo made her sick and disgusted. She rubbed the wrist and hand that he had touched, and spit on it. Then she took the fabric of her dirty gown and wiped at it to somehow clean away the filth that she now had declared it. It was like he was dirty from the inside and it flowed throughout his blood. If that creature even had blood. She fixed her hair, revolted at the very concept of his hand being there as well.

Then she remembered where he said he touched her. A creeping fear edged into her spine, her whole body. She swallowed and edged her hand down her body, down to her crotch. It was a part of her body she was always ashamed to touch. Terrified that she shouldn't be, or that she would be caught. Now some man had his eyes on it, was doing something to it, all while she was out. She brushed the area, and found it dry. Inserting one finger, she bit her lip, she'd never done this before and it was tight, not wet at all. There was nothing there. It didn't help, he still admitted to being down there. At least she knew he wasn't terribly invasive. In able to get in there deep enough, he would have had to used some sort of lubrication.

With a shudder at the thought, she pulled her fingers out. She felt ashamed, feeling no better then the man himself. Until now she tried not to give those words he uttered much thought. Now she couldn't help it.

"I want you to have my child." He had said.

It wasn't even a conceivable thought in her mind. Not only was he the horrible murderer of her parents, but her supposed uncle and clone just like her father. According to that, he was her father in identical genetic form. Incest. This man wanted to have a child with her? Words could not describe the absolute level of sick he had to be to even think such a thing, let alone dedicate himself to it. How could he possibly want to do this to his own niece? Someone who was genetically his daughter?

But it was useless to try and reason with what she knew was a madman. Somebody who was willing to kill for her knew exactly what he was doing and why. The taboo of what he was going to do was most likely nothing at all to him. Her freedoms being trampled on, her feelings, nothing to him. Trash.

Something however told her that she wasn't trash to him. He seemed to be trying to care about and for her, but failing miserably. Riccardo wasn't awkward and bumbling about it, he was sure. Positive of himself. That was the frightening thing to her, he wasn't the type to just misstep and screw up. He was cold, calculating, like some robot that never made a mistake. She wrapped her arms around herself and lay on the floor. Somewhere there had to be hope of escape, of life beyond this castle. Fiona would never let him take what he wanted. She was sure she would die first.

Yet that image came back. Her, on a bed, naked. Breasts peaked and rocking to a certain rhythm, and then she found out why. He was above her, smiling affectionately, panting heavily as he thrust into her. Those eyes...Those eyes again, but this time they were locked with her own. Then his face disappeared behind hers as he leant in and kissed her neck passionately as she then shuddered in a sort of wanton relief. The image was horrible, but it kept happening, showing up. It made her sick, and it-

Wait...

With apprehension, she again reached downward towards her crotch. What was that? Why did-

She was wet.

Fiona shuddered and stuck her legs together forcibly, trying to forget what had happened and why. Ignoring the slight throb that was still resulting from the horrible image. She felt the plastic and traced the wire with her fingers. Food. Water. Sleep. Her other needs had to be met, and she really wasn't sure if he would attempt to do so or not. He offered, but she wouldn't take. Slowly, the throbbing dulled, and so did her thoughts. She trembled, stress and fear taking their toll. Only one real thought kept her sane.

Tomorrow was a new day. No matter how destitute and hopeless it seemed.