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I get a surge of powerful, primitive, almost sexual satisfaction when I fantasize about deceiving the family of this creature to entrust the life of their daughter in my hands, so I can commit the most ravenous of atrocities upon her.

I would travel across the world to approach them, knocking on their door, exclaiming my admiration for their daughters bravery and beauty. They would invite me inside, sensitive to and impressed by the distance I travelled, hoping this commitment I displayed would invigorate and inspire them. They would be astonished and awe struck by my beaming smile of understanding and glowing eyes of sincerity, as I ask for her hand in marriage. We would hold conversation for hours, my charisma giving them the security required to let go of something so close to them.

When I depart, they consider relinquishing their little girl, never even coming close to contemplating what awaits her if they let her go.

Perhaps agreeing for the sake of the fantasy they held to before their child was born. that their daughter would finally experience a loving husband, independence and intimacy, they hand her over. After the ceremony, I take the drooling abomination to my upper middle class weatherboard, beating her into oblivion, leaving her in the dingy darkness of my shed when she is not being used for my pleasure, or being fed like the animal she is.

I would throw her down stairs, kick her continuously, choke her, slam her against walls, do Batista bombs on her (nothing which leaves clearly identifiable signs of abuse).

And this is the best part, when they come to check on her, she would be unable to communicate the living hell she experiences every day, only blankly staring with those empty orbs that are eyes, trying to cry, but unable to.

As they depart from their visits, the limited capacity of her thought processes would come to the only semblance of realisation she is capable of, that the vicious cycle of agony would begin once more.