"Wow," I gasped "Is that really how you see me?" I asked, putting the manuscript back down, it was only a few pages long but what he'd wrote was excellent. I wasn't really sure if I liked the way he painted me though, a lost and broken girl on the way to finding herself and the meaning to life. He almost made me sound glorified, I didn't see myself like that at all, did everybody else see me like that? He smiled and put his cup down, he ran his tongue along his teeth and then scratched the back of his head nervously, it was cute to see him nervous, it was so unlike him.

"Yeah...don't you like it?" He asked it like he already knew my opinion and if he was as good at reading people as he claimed, he probably did. I shook my head and walked over to the closet, pulling the doors open, a small gesture that disguised my honesty.

"It's good..." I started.

"But?" From My peripheral vision I saw him cant his head to the side, an amused smile spread sweetly on his ridiculously handsome face.

"But, I think you made me sound too perfect," I mean I was flattered, nobody had ever wrote about me before, "too perfect." I repeated for absolutely no reason.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, all amusement from his voice vanishing. I turned to him, it was hard for me to admit how little I thought of myself - having casual sex with strangers can have that affect on a person - so rummaging through his closet, although rude, made it easier for me to tell him I thought he made me sound too perfect, because I didn't have to give him eye contact or watch his expression change as he processed the information.

"I, uh, can I borrow some clothes?" I turned back around to the closet but stood still, squeezing my eyes shut, I heard him exhale heavily before he replied.

"You're leaving...already," did I hear disappointment in his voice? No of course not, "just grab whatever you want, I'll start the car." again I heard him exhale heavily, his footsteps sounded, slowly getting further away. I spun around quickly, ready to salvage whatever was going on prior to this.

"Fuck! Shit, Taylor, Tay, I'm sorry," did I just give him a nickname? I guess I did, it suited him, "I just ruined everything, I'm sorry, I do that a lot, I was hoping to be out of your company before you realized that to be honest. That's kind of why I was shocked you described me so perfectly because I do this a lot, I wait until everything is perfect and then I fuck it up, it's like a disease, I can't control it, it's so dumb, I'm sorry-" I didn't realize I was babbling until he silenced me with his lips, pressing his body against mine and wrapping his strong arms around me securely, I melted in his arms, all of my negative thoughts chasing themselves out of my head. When our lips parted ways I was breathless and confused, unsure of how we'd gone from ten minutes ago to now.

"I'll make you breakfast while you shower and then as promised I'll take you anywhere you want to go." His boyish charm was back and I bit my lip to show my smile widening.

"I've already had breakfast." I stated.

"A salad isn't breakfast, I'll make you something more substantial." He offered.

"I wasn't talking about the salad but sure, sounds good to me. Get in the kitchen where you belong, wench!" I ordered jokingly, he raised his brows at me and I giggled and ducked underneath his arm, heading to the en-suite bathroom intentionally shaking my butt from side to side as I walked. I heard him chuckle a little and then I shut the door and the sound was gone.

I turned the shower to my required temperature and then turned it on, the sound of the water hitting against the the floor of the stand in shower was almost therapeutic, I sighed and began to undress myself, hickies marked my skin all along my neck and collar bones and due to the small mirror I didn't know where else, they labelled me a whore, maybe I believed them. What was I doing? I thought of Mike and the way he'd been such good company in my time of need. I thought of when we first met...

He led me into the room that had become oh so familiar in the past few days and closed the door behind him. "Cigarette?" He asked and I laughed aloud at the normalcy of the question, so unfitting in this situation.

"No" I replied flatly, thinking about using my manners and saying no thank you but then thinking well why the hell should I?

"Take a seat" he pointed to the steal chair in the center of the room before putting a cigarette between his lips and fishing in the pocket of his too-skinny-skinny-jeans for a lighter.

"Nah, I'm good here" I replied folding my arms over my chest. He shrugged at my stubbornness.

"Nice choice of attire" he smirked taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Er, they're your brothers'" I explained and then added "My dress was no longer intact, thanks to your ever so respectful and polite father" venom danced from my tongue as I said that and my tone sounded bitter.

"Ah yes, isn't he a saint?" he smiled sarcastically. I opened my mouth to speak and he shook his head. "Don't do that" he said monotonous, I frowned at him and asked

"Do what?" I canted my head to the side.

"Ask questions I can't answer" he kept his eyes on the cigarette between his fingers. I wondered how he knew I was going to ask questions about his dad and why I'm here and why he seems one hundred percent okay and un-bothered by his fathers actions and behavior.

"Why can't you answer them?" I asked a little irritated at his vagueness. He shook his head throwing his cigarette on the floor and stepping on it. "What? You can't answer that either?" I was getting more pissed off by the second.

"No, I can't okay" he snapped, sitting down in the chair he offered me to sit in. Silence fell heavily upon us and I took the time to observe my surroundings—to say I've been in the room for the past three days, I'd never noticed how empty the room was. The only furniture in the over-sized room was the chair Mike's ass was planted on and a wooden chest of drawers in the far left corner—I wondered what occupied the drawers. I then noticed my vomit had been cleaned up and I instantly assumed Vic did it because I can't see the ogre in the kitchen doing any form of cleaning (the state of the filthy house was enough evidence of that)

"Sorry, this must be hard for you" Mike mumbled rubbing his face with his hands "I forget that"

"Forget?" I questioned "You say that like it's something continuous. How many girls have there been?" he bit down on his lip, hesitating on whether to answer or not and his deep brown eyes grew sad

"A few" he breathed

"Are we talking double digits?" Oddly he took another cigarette out of the packet and lit it, even though he'd literally just finished his last.

"Look, it's not really my business okay? I don't get involved usually, I don't like it but there's nothing I can do" he shrugged leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees.

"Er, report him, stop him, help them escape, there's many things that you can do, Mike" I couldn't fathom whether I was getting more angry or upset-my voice hinted more at the latter.

"Every action has a reaction, you can't understand"

"Too right I can't understand because no one will give me any fucking answers" I gripped my hair and pulled, feeling frustrated but immediately regretted it when my scalp-still sensitive from the ogres attack-burned, ouch.

I slid down the wall-the same wall I've been slumped against for the past three days-and put my head in my hands.

"You saw how he treated Vic-and that was just for letting you eat and giving you new clothes. If I even considered- no, no, not going to happen" he shook his head and I wanted to scream. I wanted him to let me go, set me free, but evidently that was too much of a task, he implied the repercussions of that mistake would be life threatening and I bit my lip as my imagination ran wild at the idea.

I groaned and turned away from the mirror, who the fuck had I become? I stepped inside the shower and the water was a surprise attack of pleasant warmth running down my body, although the ice was in my heart. I thought of Vic, how betrayed he'd be feeling right now sat at home, not really being able to show his anguish without it being suspicious, his ever present frown, how soft his voice was when he finally spoke. I thought about how we met, how he took care of me, even though he knew what I'd done to him in the past...

Water dripped on my face and then something damp was pressed against my forehead. I knew my eye was swollen before I even attempted to open it, it hurt so bad. My good eye fluttered open and I gasped loudly, sitting up. Where am I? I was no longer in the room I've been trapped in for...how long now? My movements were too quick and my head began to spin. Someone was leaning over me but had jumped back when I gasped and shot up. It was a man. I grabbed both sides of my dress and pulled them round me more, feeling vulnerable. His face was twisted into a deep frown.

"W-who are you?" I stuttered "Who are you?" I said more confidently. No reply.

He gently pushed on my shoulder making me lay back down. I wanted to cry, scared of what he'd do.

A damp cloth was pressed against my forehead once again and he moved round so he was knelt next to my right arm, leaning over me, his shoulder length hair dangled in my face as he canted his head to the side and looked at me for a few seconds. Then he grabbed the cloth from the bowl of warm water—that I hadn't even noticed before—rung it out and wiped slowly at the slice on my face from the belt. I winced slightly because well, it fucking hurt, but I was grateful. His deep brown eyes avoided contact with mine the whole time quickly dancing away from my gaze every time I looked into them. He gently cleaned all of the aftermath in my flesh from the belt, working thoroughly and never making a sound. I felt uncomfortable as he cleaned my leg wounds and I held my dress as tight around me as I could, he looked at my hands gripping to the leather pathetic excuse for a dress and dropped the cloth on the floor, exiting the room quickly. I wondered where he was going, I didn't want to be alone.

I looked at my surroundings, I thought that I was in a bathroom because a bath was in the corner, grimy and dirty, but there was no sink or toilet so I couldn't be certain. The walls were yellow, but not from paint, from mould and nicotine. All of a sudden the guy came back, holding something in his hand, he knelt beside me again and put the material in my hand before helping me carefully sit up. Once he'd done that he stood and turned around. It took me a few moments to realize that the material in my hands was a shirt and some boxers.

"Thank you" I mumbled gratefully before sliding my dress off and putting the clothes he'd given me on. "Um...done" I told him and he turned back around, grabbing my tattered dress and discarding it into the trash can he scooped me up bridal style and carried me out of the room.

I was almost one hundred percent sure I was still in the same house. We exited the—sort of—bathroom into a corridor. Oddly enough it was nicely painted and paintings of beaches and the sea accented the white walls. A few lights flooded the corridor and it made the house seem less disgusting and deserted.

"Am I safe?" I whispered, not sure if anyone else was around and may be able to hear me. He looked in my eyes, brown to blue and frowned before breaking his gaze and looking straight ahead again. Why won't he talk? I decided since I couldn't revel in the art of conversation I'd study his features. His skin was tan, Italian looking or maybe Spanish or Mexican, I wasn't sure. His eyes were a unique shade of dark brown, and they spoke volumes—all I saw in them was sadness, but maybe what I saw was just a reflection of myself. His eyebrows were thick and darker than his hair—which was a chocolate slash light brown and heavily flat ironed—the way they met in the middle every now again made me intrigued, what was he thinking so deeply about that kept making him frown?

I couldn't tell if I was crying or not, the salt water collided with the fresh hot water and disguised itself from me, I felt sobs rack my body though and I slid slowly down the wall, feeling too weak and scarred to stay on my feet. I curled my legs up and rested my head delicately on my knees, the warm water some kind of consolation as it ran down my back slowly. I thought of all the times I'd hurt Vic when we were kids, all the names I'd called him, all the times I'd pushed him over or physically hurt him, how could I do that to him? He was so sweet.

I stayed in the shower until I felt the water wash away every sinful act I'd ever done (and trust me there was so many) and take them down the drain with it but even when I'd stepped out of the shower I still felt everything heavily atop of my shoulders, I sighed heavily wrapping the towel around me and avoiding the mirror as I exited the bathroom. Taylor was still downstairs making breakfast, this was perfect, I sneaked over to my backpack that Taylor had rescued as well as me, I quickly dug through it, finding a pair of my socks, I'd stuffed his eleven hundred dollars in them before I got in the shower yesterday, it was something I'd seen Vic do and I thought it was a good idea. I took the money out and found a notepad and pen conveniently on top of the nightstand, I quickly scribbled

Sorry about your money,
I didn't really deserve to be forgiven,
But thank you for forgiving me anyway.
Love, Leda.

I wrapped the note around the money and opened the top drawer to put it in, instantly my jaw dropped. The object wasn't the biggest I've ever seen but it was impressive, it's sleek metallic silver glistening a little, I was thoroughly shocked, secondarily I wondered how many times he'd used it. My main thought though was:

Why did he have a gun?

Notes

Thought I'd squeeze in a quick chapter before education summons me BLAH.

Quick question: would you guys prefer short and often chapters or long chapters that take me four days to write?

Have a lovely day x