Tila shook her head side to side, making the dark hair dance across her face. No. She did not want to go out to him. He was going to stab her again. The slender girl did not want to be drugged today. She was doing so good. She was being so good. She was going to sprawl out by a window and listen to the storm that was coming.<br/><br/>Tila looked up at him, growling in her throat as if to warn him. No one was stopping him; no one even looked over to see what he was going to do to her. Tila then realized that she was cornered against a wall, between a wall and the couch.<br/><br/>“Being good,” she whimpered out, licking the blood coating her lips. She looked down at her hand and licked the back of it, smearing the dampness over her chin and back to her mouth, licking the blood that was rubbed from her face onto her hand’s back. Cats always groomed themselves when they got wet or dirty and for a moment, he was forgotten so she could clean herself up.<br/>