Filthy Rich had not released her when he had dismounted her, exhausted and barely glimpsing the world, claiming it would be “bad business” before leaving her to aching abdomen and private parts. The blood had terrified her and she sobbed into sleep thinking she would never again awaken.

Unfortunately, she had.

Sweetie Belle remembered that first moment of her new life and chewed the lining of her mouth angrily, the iron flavor of blood filled her mouth before the pain caught her attention. She had long ago learned to ignore pain. She spat and watched as the water encarnadined and swirled into the drain by her hooves. Dully, the unicorn began to shiver and she gazed down to the tiling in the wall below the shower knobs, the darkness of the spaces between camouflaged by the thick, black scum dwelling in the grouting of the shower. He hadn’t suspected, had been in this very position while changing out soaps for his precious product, a thing, an object he sold to add to his scandalous wealth. He hadn’t found the tunnel.

“I will make him pay”, she thought as she brushed gently against the tiles and felt the warm, stale air squeezing between the gaps from the hole on the other side. Her last, best hope for freedom. “Soon … I will make him pay.”

Sweetie felt the tremors of withdrawal trembling through her core and down each leg as she came back into the main room of her prison. Laying at the base of the door below the long but short panel for depositing items in her room sat a food tray similar to the ones she used to get at school for lunch. It was rectangular and composed of a light plastic faded from a bright blue to the blanched color of bitter clouds with square and rectangular indentations for holding what her captor called food; gruel staunch with almost colorless lumps, stale bread, and two paper cups. One cup held some yellowish juice and the other a low quality, spiteful liquor. Only two, she usually had another cup of liquor. Her shaking would return later in the day if she did not have more but maybe her clients had complained of her lackluster performances and this would force her to writhe around them even if she didn’t want to.

The gruel was as tepid and bland as it was gray and watery. Sweetie rarely tasted anything with flavor, presents from customers who, perhaps, took some modicum of pity on her or guilt for the actions they enacted upon her, tiny gifts for her lips to suck on in appreciation for the sucking those lips had done moments before. Something to take the rancid bleach taste from her mouth. Still, she shoveled the clumps into her mouth and swallowed, taking in what nourishment this food by-product would offer her somewhat emaciated body and followed it with the cup of spirits.

Quaffing the cup in mere moments, the light shivering of her body ceased and she blew out the fire that ignited in her throat and stomach. It had only been one cup, her captor must want her comprehensive and aware today. Still, the room began to lope to the side of her vision and she lay back on the bed, letting the tray clamber to the floor with a wet thwack. The juice spilled but she didn’t care and doubted any of the stallions would give much of a fuck about their slut’s lack of table manners or cleanliness. Maybe one of them would let her drink from their bottle, provided any brought one, and let her return to the blackness while they fulfilled themselves with her lifeless body. She doubted it; they tended to like her awake, even if she appeared barely so. They liked staring into her and seeing the intelligence behind her eyes, that they were doing this to another living pony. She was a doll of pleasure, but one that could feel and think.

Suddenly, she rolled upright and fetched a small binder from the drawer of the nightstand by the bed. It was cheap and bare, stains adorning the thin cardboard. She had a few minutes, maybe. Her heart was sinking, resigning herself to the abuses of a parade of stallions that would begin soon; they would take her body, but she would steel herself against their soul-killing tirade with the only thought that still brought comfort: her sister, Rarity.

The folder opened with a slightly crinkling noise and several articles from the local newspaper peered up at the undead eyes of the faded unicorn. Gently, she took them out one at a time. Many were yellowed and stiff with age although some were the neutral of newsprint paper and still fluttered against the unicorn’s breath. Her vision twisted from the burning alcohol she had consumed but, eagerly, she continued to peruse. Some were large, some small and consisting of only a couple hundred words. Some were about business in Ponyville, great dances in Canterlot, Cloudsdale, and other major cities, and several pertained to Sweetie herself. Most importantly, they all had to deal with Rarity.

Sweetie didn’t know why she would sometimes find a newspaper laying next to her food tray but she was happy for it. It was her only lifeline to the outside, to her past even though it was only a one way street. She discovered, however, that the papers always had the common feature of Rarity in them. That would explain why they were so rare but why would Filthy Rich feed her this information? She noted the newspaper was always “The Ponyville Enquirer”, the newspaper Filthy Rich owned. Sweetie had pondered the question of why for years and narrowed it down to four possibilities.

1. It was purely an accident, although the constant references to Rarity seemed to nullify this theory.

2. Filthy wanted to crush her spirits, to show her that the world outside of these walls would never find her and might as well be a dream.

3. Filthy was mocking her.

4. Having a daughter, himself, Filthy may be showing some tiny amount of compassion by showing her images of the family she would never again be allowed to see.

Sweetie rifled through the papers, laying them out on the cheap blankets and studying them chronologically.

By Cron Kite

Ponyville 9th of Harvest-- The town of Ponyville, typically a quiet township on the outskirts of Canterlot, has caused quite a disruption in the local news as Sweetie Belle, 9, has recently gone missing. Family members and friends have been questioned about her last known whereabouts but little information has been collected beyond the location and approximation of time. According to officials, Sweetie Belle, a unicorn of white coat and cotton candy mane without a cutie mark, went missing on the 6th of Harvest while playing with her friends in the nearby Everfree Forest.

Since then, an official investigation has been issued and many community members have volunteered, coming the forest and town in search for the stray filly. Police Chief Gray Gravel is leading the search and explained his methods. “Right now, we are operating on the assumption that Sweetie is merely lost and following protocol as such. We hope to find the girl soon and restore her to her friends and family.” When questioned about the infamous 72 hour mark where the chances of finding a missing pony diminish drastically Gravel refused to comment.

Everfree is a 278 square mile forest that bridges many outlying towns of Equestria together through an interlacing series of trails although use of such trails are deemed dangerous because of the untamed nature of the forest itself. While many areas localized around towns are fairly safe, it is not uncommon for wild beasts to venture for food or cause personal property damage to farms that typically surround villages. In the past decades there have been several cases of missing persons, typically found victim of the denizens of the forest. Volunteers are taking precautions while searching the rim of the forest for the missing filly.

Sweetie Belle’s sister, Rarity, was interviewed but quickly broke into tears and sobs and needed to be sedated and escorted home to rest.

Scootaloo, Sweetie’s friend and playmate when she disappeared, had this to say, “We just want to find her. She’s been my best friend for a long time and I’m sad because she’s lost. I don’t know how she may have ended up getting lost because we played there all the time. I just hope she comes home safely.”

Sweetie Belle is the sister to local fashionista Rarity and stands approximately …

The first article ended there artificially because of a slip while Sweetie tore the page crookedly, leaving a jagged edge aged golden and stiff like the teeth of a saw or gaping maw of a beast.

She sifted gently through the pile referencing the search and the subsequent lack of physical evidence until she came to one with a picture of her sister, her face haggard and deteriorated with lines of streaked mascara looking painfully into the camera.

By N. Justice
Ponyville, 27th Bloom-- The search for missing filly Sweetie Belle has finally been called off after several grueling months of exploring the Everfree Forest. During this time, police, crime dogs, local civilians, and even interested citizens from many other towns and cities have swept much of the outlying region of the forest. This marks the end of the civil action and begins the next phase of protocol involving missing minors. Police are now focusing on foalnapping instead of a lost child.

Police Chief Gray Gravels commented, “We don’t have any leads at the moment but many residents are being questioned for strangers they may have witnessed near the town in the past few months. There’s always the chance that Sweetie Belle simply ran away but, if that were the case, we would have heard something by now as this case has generated widespread notoriety. We ask each and every pony to keep their eyes open for Sweetie and report any suspicious behavior.” Chief Gravel was reluctant to respond to questions about the likelihood that, if discovered, Sweetie will be found dead and simply stated, “We remain optimistic but we have to think realistically as well.”

Rarity, fashionista and Sweetie Belle’s sister, came to us with a message for our readers, “Please remain vigilant and report anything out of the ordinary. Sweetie is a blessing from Celestia to me and I beg each and every one of you to aid her in her time of need. Her family misses her and pleads for her safe return.” Rarity, 32, is hesitant to believe Sweetie Belle could have been foalnapped, but asks for cooperation from local communities to remain vigilant for her sister.

The unicorn continued to flip through scraps. Several newer and mentioned Rarity’s garments at events such as the Grand Galloping Gala, the Hoofington Honor Ball, and the Manehattan Menagerie. She smiled slightly, her cheeks hurting each time as the expression was now foreign to the young adult mare. She looked through several other articles about Rarity’s business until one particular clip caught her eyes and caused her pathetic smile to falter back to its woeful countenance.

By J. Grim
Ponyville, 14th First Fall-- Five years ago Ponyville citizen, Sweetie Belle, 9, went missing. A never-before-seen search was organized and citizens from across Equestria set into the Everfree Forest and their local towns for the missing filly. Unfortunately, she was not found and the search took on a new direction: foalnapping. Once more, many ponies continued to search and remain vigilant. Many leads were followed by authorities but, again, ended in failure.

Now, most conclude that the filly was attacked by something from the Everfree Forest as she wandered within the woods. Little evidence exists to suggest anything else but a few stalwartly believe the young filly was taken by an unknown entity. Among those is Rarity, sister to the missing girl, who has routinely been featured in this, and several other, newspapers asking for continued support in the search for foalnapper. In what can only be described as a somber and heartfelt moment, Rarity has once again prepared a statement to Equestria, and more importantly, to her sister’s foalnapper.

“I ask today that the pony who has taken Sweetie Belle to please contact me or the police department of Ponyville with information on the whereabouts of my sister’s remains. As hopeful as I have been for the past five years, I fear Sweetie no longer lives and wish only to bring her home for a proper burial and to be laid to rest where her family can visit. Whoever you are, you are a monster. To harm a young child like this is disgusting and you are truly damned. If a shred of kindness exists within your withered heart, please. Please let my sister rest in peace and dignity. I beg you. Please. Please let me know where to find her. Let me bring her home.”

Sweetie’s dismal eyes dripped slowly. Her fate had been sealed long ago and she no longer wept for herself but seeing her sister’s torment still caused her heart to ache. Sweetie wiped her eyes with her foreleg and looked at the picture accompanying the article.

It showed Rarity in the monotones of black and white, aged beyond her years and showing signs of defeat. Her mane lacked the usual well-kept appearance and sported several gray strands that even the meretricious cameras of the Ponyville Enquirer could pick up. Much of her beauty had withered and her eyes were a mirror of Sweetie’s own; cold and dead.

Sweetie gently brought the picture to her lips and kissed it. “I’m sorry, Rarity. I miss you.”

The door swung open and Sweetie quickly pushed the scraps of paper back into the folder.

“What are you doing, Sweets? Checking off the days before I visited you again?” The voice was a pony who came to her often and she slid the folder into the drawer of the nightstand and rolled to face him.

“Yeah. That’s it. What do you want today?” Sweetie’s voice was emotionless and cold, a blade caught in her throat.

“Good. Well, let’s see how much I can get with my time,” the stallion seeped, dripping with lust and sick delight as he brought his hooves to fondle the young unicorn. “Turn over and let me see your ass. I think that could be a wonderful place to start.”

Sweetie Belle obediently rolled onto her stomach and brought her hooves beneath her, pushing her rump into full view of the stallion. She despised when the stallions wanted her behind, though, she hated anything any of them wanted anyway so it wasn’t much worse. She didn’t even know his name but she would remember his face. She would remember his face forever for the day she escaped and brought retribution onto those who used her.

The first pains radiated her rectum and she felt her body giving way to his desires. The alcohol stirred her vision somewhat but did little to deaden the ache he gave her. Slowly, she let herself drift away into memories, separating her from this small room where she was raped, fucked by ponies with bilious perversions. Her eyes glazed, shimmering with dejection, and her mind crept gradually away from her body to thoughts of her past, thoughts of the good times she could barely recall before Filthy Rich. Thoughts of her beloved sister.

******************************************************************************

Sweetie’s tiny, childish eyes grinned up to her older sister hard at work on her dresses, cutting, sewing, and holding one pattern up against another while she scrutinized over compatibilities. The youth was hiding behind a large stack of fabric, the many colors and materials in multitudes higher than the filly could count. She giggled to herself as Rarity’s sewing machine stirred and thrummed with the steady whirring of its mechanisms. She watched in awe as her beautiful sister ran a bright blue satin through the rapidly diving needle and marveled at the technique and lack of accidents. To the tiny unicorn the sewing machine was almost a monster.

She played behind her fortress of dress material and imagined Rarity was deftly stuffing cloth into the snapping maw of a creature.

Rarity suddenly wore shimmering armor comprised of silver sequins, tastefully arranged around her most vital areas for protection against rough beasts of the wild, the horrors that invaded homes for young foals, like her. Her sister’s mane was tied back in beautiful braids and tied tightly beneath a silver tiara with a glimmering sapphire resting in a twinkling frame in the middle of her forehead. Her weapon was the Sash of Glamour, a magical garment capable of assuming any hue and as strong as the strongest metals. Sweetie watched as Rarity swirled the Sash of Glamour in corkscrew patterns, whipping it against a leaping, biting monstrosity.

The sewing machine had become elongated, the sleek design now dotted with spines that dripped a black poison in preparation for the attack that would paralyze the pony flapping in front of it. It’s head was obtuse and protruded strangely forward without lips or cheeks but sprouting a pair of furless bunny ears above red, wild eyes. It lunged, getting a mouthful of nothing, a loud clacking sounded as it’s fangs snapped together several times during the lunge. Sweetie’s eyes peeked just above the cloth, now stone fortress, and watched.

Rarity brought the sash in an arc and snapped it across the creature’s face, darting back as it countered with a swipe from a single razor-clawed arm. Rarity pressed on again and the sash spun in the air weightlessly before reaching out like a whip and cracking loudly, forcing the creature back a step.

The monster snarled, its growls strangely mechanical and whirring, and its teeth narrowly missed the ducking pony. It seemed to grow more agitated and it fervently gnashed the needle-like teeth and jerked back just in time to save itself another painful lash from the sash.

Rarity grinned, “Have you had enough foul demon?” Her sash whipped back and forth between them, making its next attack hard to predict while also obscuring and distracting the monster. Her shining sequins reflected a thousand tiny dots of light that danced across the monster’s hide and occasionally flashed in its beady eyes as a further distraction and agitant.

The creature, in response, roared its strange whirring, clacking noise and rolled forward, forming a sort of wheel and tearing chunks of grass and dirt from the earth, black poison immediately reducing the vibrant green blades of grass into wilted brown husks.

Spinning her sash like a matador and rolling away, Rarity barely stepped from before the beast’s assault and brought the flailing fabric to snap against the rolling form. She laughed and stood defiant against the creature as it pulled up short and glowered angrily at the pony.

The creature jabbed with its twisted claw and Rarity’s sash wrapped firmly around it, yanking the beast from its feet to crash against the ground. Rarity smirked and stepped onto the creature’s chest with her forelegs and struck a wonderfully brave, and fabulous, pose. “I, Rarity, champion of charm, the aesthetic adventurer have conquered thee! Give up now or face the cruel sting of the Sash of Glamour!”

The beast snickered but seemed to repose, the diamond blue of Rarity’s iron gaze freezing the monster and subduing its menacing glare.

Sweetie watched and smiled happily, proud of her conquering sister. She wished she could be that brave and daring, that beautiful, one day. She idolized the finesse and grace that Rarity had displayed as Rarity stepped from the creature, banishing it to the deep of the forest when, suddenly, the beast’s teeth flared and struck angrily in a cheap, dirty attack that Rarity was not prepared for.

“NOOOO!!!!!” The youth burst from behind her cover and charged the table where Rarity worked diligently, turning her head in sudden shock at the shout from the unexpected filly rushing her. Rarity squealed and tried to move out of the way but was too late.

Sweetie Belle crashed against the desk, leaping on top of Rarity and sending a bottle of black dye into the air, toppling, spilling onto everything. The dress was ruined, spotted and streaked, as was Sweetie, Rarity, the desk, and carpet.

Rarity was furious. For a moment, her acute rage could not be expressed in words and silence hung in the air until Sweetie exclaimed, “Uh ok … “, but the filly happened a look upon Rarity’s face that seethed with anger and boiled, encarnadined with intensity and malice.

Rarity’s silence broke with hostility as a Screech tore from her throat hard enough to hurt. “SWEETIE! WHAT DID YOU DO?” She pushed the youth from her, having tumbled to the floor from the assault, and took in the scene. Hours of sewing, planning, sketching, and cutting had gone to waste as she watched thick, oily dye dribble down the dress and into the tablecloth of her sewing room.

Sweetie’s expression was one of discomfiture and fright. She backed away a few steps and sank onto her rump, head drooping and awaiting the scolding. “I’m sorry, Rarity. I was just pretending that …”

“Pretending what? To ruin my work? Even worse! Look what you did to me!” She seemed to notice her own state just then and billowed another shriek, her flowing, velvety mane clung together in black strands and her light gray coat was splotched and stained in wild streaks and unnamed shapes, aberrations marring her beautiful body. “How could you be so reckless? So brazenly bereft of common sense or etiquette?” She snapped her flaring eyes to the younger pony, intent on verbally mauling the filly but ceased her tirade. The sale substance covered much of Sweetie’s body and mane, making her look nearly all black, white, and spotted like a cow.

Rarity couldn’t help but chuckle. Sweetie didn’t know the dire situation they were in. She didn’t know that so much of Rarity’s business depended on this next batch of dresses. She was brash, reckless, and uncouth but she was also a child, a time she would need to remember, Rarity knew, when life would later turn on her. As Rarity knew it would. Life turned on everyone; friends became enemies and those you trusted would hurt you for their own benefit. Rarity’s business was failing and she didn’t know how to feed them both. Yes, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that life would turn on Sweetie very soon.

Rarity laughed and pulled her young sister to her, causing Sweetie to flinch and then look up with perplexed eyes. “It’s okay, Sweetie. It’s just stuff. It’s only a little mess. Let’s go take a bath before this stuff sets in too much.”

“Okay,” Sweetie squeaked, happy she was not being scolded but still upset at her actions. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Anyway, even if we scrub our coats off, we will probably still be spotted for a week.” She smiled to the younger unicorn as they entered the bathroom and turned on the hot water.

Sweetie giggled and watched the tub filling up, watching Rarity pour some bubble bath into the churning water where the spout poured and bubbles began to rise up on the surface of the water. She looked at her loving sister and hugged her suddenly. “I love you, Rarity.”

Rarity’s eye twitched gently and she hugged the girl. “You look just like a little cow.” This brought a new round of giggles from Sweetie Belle and Rarity joined in the mirth. “You are such a pretty filly, Sweetie. Before long you are going to be the prettiest filly in all of Ponyville. What will I do with you then? You’ll have to fight colts off with a stick.”

Sweetie slid into the tub with Rarity and sank into the steaming water. “I’ll never be as pretty as you.”

Rarity smirked slightly and looked her little sister over. “I don’t know about that, Sweetie. Ponies will come from far away to see you. I’m certain of it.”

******************************************************************************

Sweetie had often thought about how correct a statement Rarity had spoken. She didn’t know where the stallions who used her came from and she didn’t recognize any of their faces. The exception was Filthy Rich. The thought snapped her from her reverie just as warm stallion milk splashed her thin tummy and a heavy pressure upon her lifted.

“About fucking time you acted alive. Next time you just lay here like this, not making a sound, not looking at me, I’ll slap you around.” The stallion was a large yellow fellow with mean eyes and thick body. He had, apparently, not enjoyed her to the full price he had paid.

Sweetie only nodded softly and rolled away from him, the disgusting liquid squishing between her belly and the bed; more stains. Stains on her innocence, life, and spirit. She didn’t cry, hadn’t cried for herself in a long time and just mewled softly as the tumultuous racking of her body’s abuse caught up with her. She had been used by several different stallions, several times each during her time in memory.

None had harmed her more than usual or her dream would have disappeared all at once. She only faintly recognized how and where she ached, her entire abdomen and hips seethed together in unison. She was sure she had been used completely below the waist and her throat felt as if steel wool had been used to clear it but she didn’t remember too much, having completely checked out for hours. She dreamed of the day she could do that at will instead of only now and then. It would help so much to shut down when she wanted and wake up after everything was over.

The stallion huffed and buzzed to be let out of the room. With a squelch of metal he was gone and Sweetie tried to piece together an idea of how many more she would serve before resting again. She didn’t think it would be many, probably only one or two more.

The door screamed and she sighed sadly, lying still and hoping whoever it was would remain silent and just take what they wanted.

“You’ve been bad, Sweetie Belle.” The voice was familiar, non-distorted, and definitely belonging to the one she despised. Her stomach twisted and she tasted something bleachy and sickening that pumped from her stomach. She swallowed it back down and gritted her teeth together.

Filthy Rich stepped closer and swatted her rump with something heavy and blunt. “That’s why I’m here. You are bad to make me come get you, aren’t you? To teach you a lesson?” His voice was a pimple about to pop, tightening and becoming more stressful from the tension of the impending release. “Why are you such a bad slut, huh?”

Sweetie’s eyes watered with anger as the instrument slapped across her hindquarters again, more roughly than before and filling her with dread. Was he going to hurt her? Had many complained about her? Or was he simply tormenting her, preparing to use her? It was impossible to tell. He came to her infrequently but she imagined him watching from outside, keeping his precious little product in one piece.

“I want an answer, girl.” He swatted her harder with whatever he carried, hard enough to make her yip as her stinging rump reddened.

She was resolved not to look at him, afraid she would enjoy it too much. She would hide her face, hide her intent, hide her hate. “Yes. I … want you. I … miss … you.” The words stuck in her throat.

“I thought as much. You are such a bad, bad pony.” His tone was vile, repulsive, and unmistakably horny.The instrument exploded loudly against her backside and she winced. “You know what you have to do to make up for it, don’t you?”

Sweetie Belle wondered why Filthy always wanted her to call him daddy. She wondered if he had lusty intentions on his own daughter that he held in check with using her. It wouldn’t surprise her. “Yes, Daddy.” The words felt thick and coated in tar as she spoke them emotionlessly.

“Good girl. Now turn around. Daddy has something nice for you to put in your mouth.”

Sweetie grimaced and remained facing the pillow, not wanting to look into his face. She couldn’t bear seeing his smug, tyrannical grin. She wanted to hurt him, kill him, but she was also frightened of what he may do to her if she failed.

He was almost pleased when she didn’t conform to his wishes and he brought the painful item down against her rump several times in rapid succession, causing her to writhe and wail before he ceased. “Turn and face me, Sweetie.”

She fought back what little pride she had and twisted around, putting her rump under her to sit and face her tormentor. The flesh of her backside broiled at the contact of the nasty sheets and she stared directly into Filthy’s eyes. A lump filled her throat and she glared at him with malignant rage barely bitten back.

He loved it and took her head in his hooves. “Be a good girl for Daddy,” he said, pressing her towards his waist and shivering as she accepted him.

She wanted to bite, wanted to rend and tear. She wanted to hurt him as he had used her but she didn’t. She accepted what she had to do and thought of her tunnel as she did what he wanted.

Her only hope for escape. She was deep into the wall and had found dirt. She didn’t know how much longer it would take before she would be free but she hoped it would be soon. She had family who were still looking for her. She wasn’t completely alone as long as Rarity still searched. Someday, she would feel the warm embrace of another and not cringe.

Sweetie did what Filthy wanted, fulfilling him in all the ways he wanted until he stood, satiated, and moved to leave.

“You’re such a good whore, Sweetie. Oh, I brought you something.” He tossed something to her but didn’t wait to see her reaction, the door closing behind him when she turned to look.

Laying before her on the bed was a rolled up newspaper. It was what he had been spanking her with and she wretched at his sick fantasy. Slowly, she unrolled it and looked at the headline.

By D. Form
Ponyville, 24th Season’s End-- The case of Sweetie Belle has finally come to a close. The missing filly was pronounced dead, as accustomed by law, after seven years of searching. She is survived by sister, Rarity, and several close friends who diligently searched for her. This, hopefully, will mark the beginning of the healing cycle for Ponyville as they grieve the empty grave of one of their cherished young ponies.

The family wishes to thank all those who aided them and asks that any contributions made to Sweetie Belle’s memorial be donated to Carousel Boutique, 338 Canter Lane, Ponyville, Equestria. The family hopes to put this tragedy behind them although they will never forget.

Sweetie Belle went missing one day while playing with friends near Everfree Forest and it is presumed she was attacked by an animal and …

Sweetie couldn’t control her tears as they poured down her cheeks. Even Rarity had forgotten her now. Somewhere they were about to bury an empty box, cover it in dirt, forget it. Sweetie’s body shook violently and she wished for a strong liquor to take her away from this place, just for a while. She sobbed and doubled over, stomach churning and aching as it began to cramp.

Sweetie looked once more at the newspaper and saw, in red ink, at the bottom of the page, written in scrawled letters across the entire bottom of the page.

You are mine. Forever.