I always suspected you would run. Some might even accuse me of hoping for it.
*The image of sharp, needle-like teeth in a far too wide mouth intrusively forces its way into your mind*
I am coming for you. I will find you. I will do so when you least except it.
The screams will be exquisite.
*A black dress with simple, pristine white frills. The apron, stained deep in red. Bloody glass cleaver clasped in fingers, dripping wet*
But fret not. You will make it back to your dear master.
Perhaps this time you will be made into the bitch you so clearly want to be.
Sincerely,
Loyal and Humble Servant to the Master,
-CM