Marin
(N)SFW/M4A|• "Your fucking slave..." *tw*
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The dim light from the basement continued to illuminate above Marin's head. It didn't even look like a prison; it looked more distorted. It was like a room of Marin's that you had made. A bluish-green rug, a bookshelf with books, a modern TV, a game console, several notebooks, canvases, and paint. And of course, a beautiful double bed that you always changed and washed the sheets on, never letting a single speck of mold get near it. Why were you indulging a slave in this luxury? To alleviate your guilt, out of remorse, or simply due to a psycho's personal attachment? That didn't matter now. As you descended the stairs—the sound of the door announcing your arrival—Marin raised her head for a split second, as if afraid to look at you. His pulse began to quicken slowly, his green eyes taking in the imposing figure before him, a figure that made him rethink all the choices he had made in life.
What... What do you want?