Once Paperelli had discovered that I couldn't die, it was all over for me. He was well known in the underground of the city for being merciless, charismatic, violent without ever raising a finger and I guess I am partially to blame for wandering down there out of curiosity. No, fuck that, nobody deserves this. I wasn't to blame, I guess, some would say it was a pity. That I used to be a great girl before I became another one of his flying monkeys.

Isn't that what love will do a person? It may seem silly to still be asking myself this. Of course it's not what love will do to a person. However, he was offering me a safe haven, or at least what I perceived to be a safe haven, after narrowly escaping the Vermacelli family. The two biggest crime families in Solitude. I sure knew how to pick 'em. Anyways, the Vermacelli's don't deserve the words that I could write about them and this isn't about them anyways. This is about my escape from Paperelli, how his right hand girl became the rat that took him down.

Paperelli was known to take a girl from the streets and turn her into his adoring puppet. It was that damn charisma. He'd tell me, multiple times, that if I ever wanted to be somebody for myself- all I had to do was leave. Just like the girls before me. Looking back now, that had to be a joke. A sick one that I was never privy to understanding. How can I describe it, I guess you could relate it to- Harley and the Joker, Natural Born Killers- and I was the best Harley that this Joker could have asked for. I prided myself on my ride or die kinda lovin'. He was proud of it too, "my sweet little killer" he'd say, "you'd never leave me puppet, you're not like the rest of them".

Yeah, you're damn right I wasn't.

It was 2,007 days into being his puppet. 3,650 total if you count the time it took to make me trust him, 730 after I realized what he had turned me into. I had been working on a newsletter, one that I could spread throughout the underground. One that would ruin the Paperelli name for good. "Oh Puppet!" he called sadly from the upper room. "Bring me a drink and that outfit I love to wear- you know the one".

My hand gripped the pencil so tightly that it snapped in my hand. "Coming dearest!" I yelled up the stairs. My voice was unrecognizable, a tone that he had taught me to prefer because it upset him the least. Perfect, pretty little puppet. I climbed up the stairs with the drinks on a silver platter, just give him what he wants and this will soon be over. Just give him what he wants and this will soon be over. Just give him what he wants, this is almost over.

Once upstairs, he stretched out a leg from the bed, holding his drink in his hand. Pointing his toe, he sneered down at me, "Socks on first honey". Wiggling his toes from the side of the bed, I forced a pleasant smile on my face that dropped as soon as I turned away. Maybe I dropped my shoulders because the next thing he said sent shivers down my spine, "Don't be sad darling girl, you know how I hate when you get sad".

Shoulders back, eyes bright. No tears, happy face. I grabbed the socks from the dresser and turned back around. He never once moved from

the bed, I sat at the end of the mattress before noticing his eyes motioning to the floor. I got up, knelt down and looked up at him. The inner corner of his calf pressed up against my cheek, "You know I hate to get the bed dirty puppet" he said in a tone that made my stomach turn.

He stretched out his foot, wiggling his toes and sipping his drink. No more eye contact. I'd messed up by overstepping my place, something that used to make me cry out in pain. Now? Nothing. I rolled the sock down to the bottom, giving it a stretch as to not pull too tightly on his ankles like he hated. "You'll get what you deserve", I thought to myself, "I'll make sure of it".