Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I'm ashamed I wrote this but it wouldn't go away... both of the RL actresses are very nice and it hurt my soul that this wouldn't leave me alone. There are no amount of apologies I can make that will ease this guilt. I know I wrote it out anyway but I hate my mind.

You wander upstairs, it's only been ten minutes since your parents left to take your brother to the doctor's, they won't be back for at least four hours and you're already bored out of your mind, and maybe a bit lonely. So, you take your phone out and text the one person who can't say no. You lie back on your bed and wait.

The door downstairs creaks open and slides shut, footsteps echo in the house as they approach your room, to your closed door. It opens and there she is, beautiful. She approaches; you sit up and don't even bother looking at her instead glancing at the door. She turns around and closes it with a soft click. You watch as she turns back around, and stops a few feet away from you. Her eyes are on your face begging for permission to walk over to you. You don't give it. Instead you get up and walk around her. She continues to stare straight ahead, exactly like you've taught her. You watch the muscles grow taunt in her neck as she strains not to look at you. She really is a masterpiece. One that you've crafted so carefully over the years.

You've had a couple of others that were mistakes over the years and you can't help but know that she's the only one you got right. She's dependant on you, she'd kill herself if you asked. She's smart so she never disobeys too much, unlike some of the others. That's probably why she's still alive and why she's your favorite. And you get a flash of pride knowing you made her into what she is today. From a broken girl who hid from people and taught her to hide instead behind a mask that lets her walk through hallways with her head up high, but she still looks at you with worship in her eyes.

You run your hand through her thick hair, and she leans into your touch. She's been good lately, you muse, better than usual. None of the harsh remedial lessons were needed, a few marks on the skin just as reminders to exactly who owns her but nothing too permanent. You had learned your lesson on that when you in anger left a scar on her back. You lead her to the bed and push her roughly down.

"Cat," she whispers, her eyes catching yours. You silence her with a look and go over to your closet where you have a hidden door. You sigh, and she had been so good lately.