"Toss me that feeding tube," he said, motioning impatiently with his hand towards the larger man known as Bear.

"Might as well include a catheter too," Bear suggested.

"Nothin' surgical here," he said with a mumble, wrapping an extremely long clear tube around his arm. "Making it surgical, they won't have a choice. The way I do it, they both eat the pureed food and survive as long as possible, or they drown in it. The choices!"

Gwen shivered, rubbing the sides of her arms, ignoring the caked dirt beneath her fingernails as she peeked through the crack in the metal door. She was trying to concentrate on the conversation, but her body ached from the shallow cuts along her arms, her thighs, and her midriff caused by Bear's scalpel.

Gwen's grip unintentionally tightened at the thought, causing her long dirty nails to dig into the marred flesh of her upper arms. She swallowed and shook her head trying to get the thought out, but had no luck.

They'd run out of anesthesia the past week and Gwen had a high pain tolerance. With antibiotics, stitches, and gauze she healed up quickly too. Because it took Gwen longer than Sam to pass out and since she healed faster, Gwen had been the choice. Bear liked any excuse to keep them awake and in pain as long as possible. She tried faking it once, the passing out, just so she could get him to stop slicing her open, but it hadn't worked.

"You're surprisingly tough. For a pampered rich girl," Bear had informed her.

With the inch wide feeding tube in his hand Bear glanced down. "Man, this is sick. I told you I don't want to be a part of this."

"Oh, I see, but cutting them up isn't just as sick? Get over it," he said, his voice deep and gritty.

"Are you burying the red head too?"

There was a pause before he responded. "Gwen? No, I haven't had fun with her yet."

Gwen held in the frightened whimper threatening to erupt and let the anger fill her instead. She wouldn't survive if she stayed afraid. He would pay for this, in her life or in her death, one way or another. She wouldn't let him get away with this.

Glancing at Sam, Gwen shifted forward, placing her hands on the ground and sliding her bare knees through the dirt, crawling towards the shivering, sleeping girl. Curling herself around Sam's fetal position to combine their warmth, Gwen started to gently rub her hands up and down Sam's arms. Creating friction and heat, but she knew it wouldn't last long. It was always so cold, no matter what they did.

The clothes they'd been captured in had been replaced with a clean white wife beater and matching short shorts. The white material no longer had the crisp clean feel of new clothes, now it was sodden with blood and dirt.

He'd sound proofed the walls, but only in this prison cell they were being held in, and there was even a toilet that flushed with an unsteady, dented, metal sink for hand washing, but there was no bed. They were forced to sleep on a brown, ragged, bug infested blanket, like mistreated dogs that had been shoved in a corner. It was like a prison cell, but not quite. There was no writing area for letters to family or books. All they could do was sit, wait, and worry with a sickening fear, wondering who was next. Gwen felt guilty when she hoped it would be Sam.

Gwen dropped her head against the back of Sam's shoulder, biting the inside fat of her cheek to keep from letting the tears fall. She sniffled as she tried squashing that guilt. It was only natural to want Sam to be next.

It was a lie she told herself often.

She snuggled deeper next to Sam, wondering if she was providing warmth or if she was a leech stealing it. Wrapping her arms tighter around the girl next to her, Gwen hugged her, desperately wanting Sam to understand that she was sorry for thinking the way she did. It was the tiny grunt that escaped Sam's lips that made the strength in Gwen's hug lighten...maybe Sam understood, because she probably thought the same way.

It was only natural.

The heavy metal door she'd been spying through only a minute ago made a shredding noise against the dusty dirt-gravel ground as it was shoved open. Gwen's heart clenched as she buried her face into Sam's shoulder blades, shrinking down, wanting to hide behind the slightly emaciated blonde.

"Speaking of fun," the asshole said. He was the demon that have been, the man that was supposed to be the one looking for them.

And Gwen knew then that it was her turn.

The asshole was finally going to do what he'd done to Sam repeatedly, so often in fact the bruises on Sam's thighs hadn't even begun to heal. But he was coming for Gwen now, which meant he was getting tired of Sam. Gwen's breath caught in her throat and she eyed Sam's back.

...her nostrils flared with realization. He was going to bury Sam and soon. She could see the excitement in his eyes as he got closer to them. It was more than usual, like he was drunk off the knowledge. The erratic jumping leap in his step, his blue eyes bright with anticipation, they weren't just because he was about to rape her. It was because the time had come for him to bury Sam.

Thoughts of what she could do were racing through her head, but were rudely interrupted by the large hand clamping on her upper arm, yanking her roughly to her bare, dirty feet.

Gwen clenched her jaw and held her head high, wanting to pretend that this was The Green Mile. And for a moment she believed that she was walking towards a death she was ready for, desperately needing the peace that would follow, just like John Coffey. She could only stay there for a minute before the door to the cell slammed shut. She didn't even bother to scream as he pulled her towards the only piece of furniture in the area connected to that cell, the operating table. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of screaming. She couldn't.

She bit her trembling lip and let her thoughts drift to Oliver. She should've let him go.And it was then that she knewthat's what she would do. Think of Oliver, of how gentle he'd been with her that first time. It hadn't been great, she'd been a virgin after all, but the second time had rocked her world. When she'd broken up with him Gwen had tried it with two other guys, but nothing had compared to her time with him. So she settled.

If she survived this, she would never do that again. She would never settle, not ever again.

The startled cry escaped unintentionally as he roughly turned her around so that her back faced his chest. He pushed her down so hard that her cheek smacked into the rickety rolling metal table, knocking it into the tray beside the table, rattling the medical tools in it. The cool metal of the table barely soothed the sting. He adjusted her hips, pulling her towards him, but when he kicked her legs apart the whimper that came out of her mouth pissed her off.

What was she doing? Didn't she say she wouldn't do this? She wasn't going to just take it. He'd have to kill her first. She wasn't going to think about Oliver.

What was she going to do? How could she survive this? Think, think...think about getting him to stop!

Luckily he didn't go for the belt to his jeans right away as he grinded against her ass. It gave her time to think. It was when he let his chest fall against her back so he could whisper obscenities in her ear that she knew what she could do. Gwen reared back and the loud smack of the back of her head crunching his nose almost over powered her own painful cry.

"Oh you fucking bitch!" His nasally response as he pulled away gave her a feeling she hadn't had in a while. She felt powerful, worthy of making it out of this hellhole alive. And it was intoxicating. She wanted this power, she needed it.

Her eyes darted to the tray filled with sharp knives. The tray was just slightly out of reach, so she awkwardly jumped enough to push her upper body farther across the table. The minute her fingers landed on the cold metal she pulled the tray closer, yanking out a scalpel. She flipped her hair up and turned with the tool, letting the feeling of thinking she'd won wash over her. Because even if she couldn't get out of here, since the door just past those muddy stairs was bolted shut, she'd still broken his nose.

As she turned though, she hadn't expected his response to be so swift. He knocked the tool out of her hand with an ease that made her gasp and he back handed her hard enough that she fell backwards into the metal edge of the table. Due to the wheels on that table it couldn't support the sudden weight thrown on it without wheeling away. It slipped from under her and she crashed to the floor. Dazed, she tried to push herself up, needing to be on her feet, but all she could manage was a sitting position. She gritted her teeth as pain radiated up her cheek and down her jaw bone. The burst of copper flavored liquid spilled into her mouth and the sting of a split lip made it hurt every time she let out a breath.

Quickly scooting far back, following the rolling table, she glanced up at him. Trying to swallow the burning rise of vomit lodged in her throat from the unexpected pain. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid of having a heart attack as he sauntered over to her, menacingly eyeing her with each casual step.

He stopped a foot in front of her, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. He raised a smug eyebrow and settled his hands against his belt. Setting her jaw she never took her eyes away from him, not even when the clang of that heavy belt knocked against the floor beside her bare feet.

What else could she do but give him a smug smile of satisfaction herself. She finally managed to sit up straighter, able to lean against the leg of the operating table that had stopped rolling away from her scooting form.

"Doesn't it strike you as particularly odd that I'm a woman and have more balls than you?" Gwen said, inhaling air through her nose as she heaved for breath, trying to get a handle on the ache in her jaw that came with each trembling word.

He shrugged and took a step closer so that his hips were inches from her face. His fingers started pulling down his zipper. Then she did what he'd wanted her to do when he'd taken his belt off. She made it obvious where she was staring too. "Oh, what's the matter? Can't get it up if I'm not bent over? You really give gay men a bad name," she said with a scoff.

He stopped at her comment and glanced down. "I'm not gay."

And maybe he wasn't because it hadn't made him as angry as she thought it would, but he still stopped pulling at the zipper of his jeans. The tiny ounce of relief that followed made it worth it too. Gwen knew this was going to happen, but it would be on her terms, not his. He would never have that power of her.

He didn't move for about a minute as he watched her, but what he did afterwards made her struggle to keep her face blank as the sound of his zipper being pulled up echoed. He bent down, reaching for his belt, and Gwen exhaled. Her shoulders slumped as she watched him slip the leather strap back through the loops of his pants.

"I was never that much into redheads anyway," he said with a mumble. He paused as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. "Brunettes on the other hand...Bailey is a real piece of work, I would love to bend that tight ass over my desk at work."

Gwen released another breath.

"I'm going to kill you," she said. There was no growl, no rasping voice; no quivering with tears, there was absolutely nothing as she said it. Gwen spoke it with a certainty, saying it as calmly as she would say 'hello.' It was a matter-of-fact statement. He was going to die and she would be the one to do it.

"Big talk from the broken, bruised girl living in a dungeon," he said smirking down at her. He stooped down, dropping his head to her level, and for a moment he fooled her. Fooled her into thinking he wasn't the bad guy with that enchanting bewitching smile. "She's looking for you. Hasn't stopped though she's trying to make people think she has now. I mean talk about friendship. If I didn't like her so much I'd take her too. I mean, I was thinking about asking her out. Like on a regular date."

"You're crazy," Gwen said with a hoarse voice and the tears that burned her eyes surprised her as she rapidly tried to blink them away.

Bailey was looking for her. And she hadn't stopped. Gwen wanted to laugh; she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that she was here, only two miles away. That she was alive. Hope and relief washed through her and she just knew that Bailey was going to find her.

"She's not going to find you. Don't look so hopeful. She has the detective instincts of a drunken dog, which is why I'm curious as to why she's so adamant to scream that you're still in town. How she know?" He paused to think about it, reaching forward to casually tuck a piece of Gwen's red hair behind her ears. Her eyes widened and she jerked her head away from him, breathing heavily through her nostrils. He gave her an amused smile and then pulled his hand back.

"She does know it's true too. If you could've seen the look on her face when she said it, like it was the most honest truth she'd ever known. So how she know?" He stopped talking to stand up, pacing a small distance back and forth in front of her, as if he was contemplating his own question. "She's clumsy though. Getting arrested, screaming that you're still in this town in front of tons of people, screaming it in front of the . Can you believe it?"

"Hello!" The muffled sound of a frantic woman screaming caused his head to jerk up.

Gwen's breath caught in the throat, robbing her of the ability to scream. It was like she had something lodged in her throat as she listened to the woman above continue call out of him. It was too good to be true.

"I saw your car in the driveway. Oh please answer me, it's Gale. I need help! It's Bailey. There's been a car accident. Hello? Hello!"

, Gwen screamed inside her mind. . It was useless at first, but when the assholes head jerked down with an intense glare she let out such a loud screech she wondered if it would even register that it was a person making that noise.

Bailey's mom was right there. She was here. Scream. Louder...only one area underground was sound proof and this wasn't the place.

"Mrs. Roberts!" Gwen tried again. "I'm mmmphed." The hand slapped over her mouth and he lifted her with a startling ease, striding over to the door where he kept them locked in.

"I couldn't get a hold of anyone at the station and Bailey got in an accident with my only car. I knew you had a vacation cabin out here and I rode Mattie's bike all the way out here. I was so relieved when I saw your patrol car in the drive way," Mrs. Roberts continued to holler as if someone had actually answered her. "Oh please!"

The heavy door swung open with a fierce whine and he dropped her inside like a bag of potatoes. "Help me!" She cried out one last time, but he cut her off with a kick to the ribs.

"You'll just have to be patient princess. Now be good, you don't want anything to happen to Bailey's mom, do you?" He raised an eyebrow waiting as he stared down at her.

Gwen's mouth dropped open and she let tears finally spill down her cheeks. Free falling. She smacked her hand over her mouth trying to silence the cry and she shook her head.

And she wondered, if she did make some noise couldn't Gale get away? She knew the answer. Of course she knew. No, Gale wouldn't get away. She wouldn't even think to try. Not from him, he was to be safe.

Trembling, breathing as if she'd just run a marathon, she sat there. Crumbled on the floor and shivering as she watched him quickly slam the door. Gwen could almost imagine the sound of him trampling up the stairs, unlocking the lock, and creeping out into his vacation log cabin.