Never Alone

The water had stung her cuts at first, but now she adds more hot water to continue her long soak in the oversized tub in Liam's bathroom. He is in the attached bedroom speaking angrily on the phone, occasionally in another language. She is just thankful his rage isn't directed towards her and he's left her alone to bathe.

It's as if thinking about him conjures him. She can't read his face and there is no emotion in his voice when he says, "How's my defiant little pet?"

"Fine... thanks... Sir," she adds. The next words bubble up from inside her and she is helpless to stop them. "You didn't bring me to the auction."

"I didn't go to the auction," he answers swiftly as he crosses the room, avoiding saying what she really wants to hear.

"Yes, but..." He hushes her, placing two fingers on her lips.

"You're difficult and ungrateful, but I find you quite amusing and I'd like to keep you around."

"What do I have to be grateful for?"

"I rescued you from a mundane life, I saved you from that man only an hour ago, and I didn't take you to the auction."

"You didn't go to the auction," she mimics him. She sucks in a deep breath, steeling herself for retaliation, but he only raises an eyebrow in response.

"Let me have a look at those cuts." He pushes her shoulder forward without waiting for her to obey. She flinches when he dabs at the marks on her back from the whip. His grip moves to the back of her neck when she tries to straighten up. "Don't fight me. These need to be cleaned thoroughly."

She pulls her legs to her chest and rests her chin on her knees while he softly tends to the wounds. The caring side of him is refreshing, but it isn't without the dominating side holding her firmly in place. "You really shouldn't have fought him."

"What was I supposed to do? Just..."

"Just lay there and take it quietly." An eerie darkness has crept into his voice. "Sometimes that's better for everyone. You need to learn to accept that." Greta is too afraid to ask where this change of tone came from. She wouldn't know where to start anyway. Navigating a dark past can be a treacherous quest. Instead, she allows him to finish washing her and tuck her into his bed without another word.

CHAPTER 15: Options

Liam awakes to hair tickling his face and a warm body pressed against his. She clings to him like a child starved for affection. The fiery curls flatten as he brushes them down with his free hand. The other is pinned beneath his prisoner.

He can't free her without her running straight to the police. He can't break her into being his submissive. He doesn't want to sell her into the dangerous slave trade. Sleep won't embrace him again now that his mind is in overdrive.

There must be another alternative.

Greta awakes in an empty bed, but hears Liam fumbling around in the bathroom. She decides to stay put, but sits up with the blankets cloaked around her.

"You're up," is all he says when he enters the room. The cold attitude is what she's come to expect, but she vaguely remembers him stroking her hair last night... or was it a dream?

"Are you going to lock me back in that dark room?" Her voice is pitiful and his face softens for a millisecond.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do with you." Both of them know that statement is deeper than it seems.

"If you let me go, I won't go to the authorities." He is unsure he's heard her correctly... or at all. Did he imagine that angelic voice?

"I don't think you're a bad person, not like some criminals, but I think you need help. This isn't right."

"But I am a bad person, Greta." His easy admittal shoots chills up her spine. "I've had bad things done to me and now I enjoy hurting girls like you. It doesn't take a shrink to put two and two together. Why would I trust you anyway?" Greta feels as if he punched her in the gut. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

It was worth a try. Damaged people like to try to fix other damaged people and he has just confirmed he's broken. It is a silent stand-off between two confused, hurting individuals with very few options.

"I brought you some clothes." He nods towards the nightstand. When she doesn't get up right away he adds, "Put them on."

"No," she says firmly. "Do whatever you want, but I'm not going to listen to you anymore. I'm..." She doesn't continue, knowing her voice will break if she utters one more word.

"They're going to reschedule the auction," he threatens softly. Greta almost wishes he had raised his voice. That would've been less ominous.

"Then send me there if that's what you have to do." He shakes his head.

"It would be less trouble to just kill you myself and save the trip. You wouldn't last a day with any of those men." She doesn't cower as he approaches the bed. His eyes are dark and locked on hers, but she doesn't break the eye contact.

He would do it. He's going to do it.

She doesn't fight him when he wraps his hands around her throat. The forgiving mattress and fluffy pillows are welcoming. She knows struggling would be futile. Maybe he'll make it quick if she cooperates one last time. Maybe this is the best option for both of them.

Images of her life don't cloud her vision, but tears start to blur his stern face looming over her. There is no bright white light; only dark patches that start to creep in from the corners of her eyes. It's difficult to breath, but she manages to whisper, "Just do it."

With that, his grip tightens.

Greta closes her eyes.

She is vaguely aware of his lips against her limp mouth. Her airways have expanded enough that she can draw a deep breath in through her nose, but he is still pinning her down. He sits up abruptly and she gasps for air. Her lungs will never again take for granted the feeling of being full.

"Leave." Greta's limbs don't respond even if a voice in her head is screaming at them to escape. "Now. Before I change my mind."

"Damn it, Greta go. We both knew I couldn't do it but I'm starting to wonder if maybe I can now. Run to the police but then you better hide because once I'm arrested, my men will hunt you whether I tell them to or not."

"I don't want you to get arrested," she squeaks.

"Get out." She gathers up the clothes from the nightstand and doesn't start dressing until she's in the hallway. Even then, she keeps moving.

No one stops her as she descends the ornate staircase.

The front door unlocks easily.

Her feet carry her down the long driveway.

The gate swings open easily.

It isn't until that moment Greta stops to catch her breath. It all feels like a dream. The thought panics her for a moment, but she is definitely awake. She is definitely awake and she has definitely just escaped.

Now what?

There is only one option: start walking. She chooses a direction arbitrarily and sets off down the deserted road. No signs announce approaching cities. Greta feels utterly alone. Luckily she left in the morning but she fears she won't encounter a house or any sort of civilization before sunset.

Turn back or spend the night in the woods alone?

She quickly convinces herself anything is better than returning to His house, but later as the sun starts sinking she wishes she had chosen the other option. There's nowhere for her to go. Even after she finds a house, who will she call? What will she tell them? What if she stumbles on another crazy person living out in these woods before she gets a chance?

She knows the last point is ridiculous. But so was being kidnapped by the man from her dreams. The tears gush from her eyes with little warning. Sobs shake her body. Her legs can carry her no farther and she collapses on the side of the road.

When she teetered on the edge of death, she didn't see a cheesy montage or a blinding light, but with timing like something out of a movie, headlights appear in the distance. The tears now fall from happiness. She leaps up and down, waving her arms madly.

The car slows to a stop in front of her and she hears the locks click just in case. She approaches the passenger side slowly, not wanting to alarm the cautious driver. The window rolls down slightly.

"Are you okay?" a man's voice asks from inside.

"I... I..." Greta succumbs to tears again, overwhelmed by emotion. Get it together.

"Are you lost?"

"Yes."

"Where are you headed?"

"Anywhere... anywhere I can call a ride and wait," she adds after realizing she was beginning to sound a little crazy.

"There's a twenty-four hour diner up ahead. Get in, but you should know I'm armed so if this is a trick..." He stops when he sees the pathetic creature that slips in beside him. Her dirty, wiry hair hangs in her face and when she brushes it behind her ears, purple marks are visible around her neck. The tear-streaked face doesn't look up at him until she brushes it dry with her sleeve.

"Thank you." Whatever the girl had been through, it wasn't good, but he doesn't want to get involved.

"No problem" is the last thing he says to her. He pulls up to the door and responds to her thanks with only a nod. Her heart sinks as the stranger drives away. There is a payphone across the parking lot, but she doesn't have a single cent on her.

The fluorescents in the diner make her squint and she receives strange looks as she approaches the counter. "Can I borrow your phone?" she asks the woman behind the register.

"No, sorry sweetie, but there's a payphone outside." Greta swallows back the urge to cry yet again.

"I don't have any money."

"Should've asked for some from that man who dropped you off. No handouts here." She can't bring herself to argue and goes to sit on the curb instead. When did the world get so harsh?

Even the Good Samaritan who gave her a lift was rude. When she buries her face in her hands and closes her eyes to hold in the tears, she's in His arms. He's stroking her hair and they are pressed against each other tightly despite the heat trapped by the blankets.

When they wake, she won't have to deal with stares and judgments from strangers. She won't have to explain her absence to anyone or find a new job or a new place to live.

And maybe... maybe she can fix him.