Steve was his name. A tall, strong man who didn’t like talking much. He was impatient, obsessive-compulsive, and controlling. He wasn’t all that interested in beating his new girlfriend, but she was so defiant. And that strange, little boy – Christian – who’d now come into his life was odd. He was quiet, too quiet, almost like he was thinking of something; always observing. But Steve kind of liked him, he never gave any trouble. The boy’s mother though always seemed to be on drugs. Steve hated that. She was impulsive and never listened. Well, Steve would teach her. He’d teach her to be obedient and have dinner ready. He’d teach her to have the house spotless before he’d arrive home. He’d teach her the ropes, both in the kitchen and in bed.

He did it all for love. This was how you showed someone that you loved them dearly, no? You’d tell them to do something once, and if they truly cared they’d listen. If they truly cared, they wouldn’t defy you or your rules. If they cared, they’d please you in bed. This was the only way he’d learned to love. This was how he’d seen it happen over and over again; and oh, did he learn well.

Every night, Steve would have a sort of ritual. He would make sure all of his frustrations from the day were dissolved completely.