Earthquake. That was the only thought in Sophia's mind as she slowly gained consciousness. It must be an earthquake that was waking her up.

But, no. No, New York City didn't get earthquakes. California did, but she wasn't in California, anymore.

Sophia's eyes blinked open. Her eyelids felt swollen and her throat was like sandpaper, tasting of chemicals. She coughed once, but that just made it worse.

The shaking stopped, as quickly as it came. Breathing heavily, Sophia lifted her heavy head and tried to take in her surroundings, her eyes screaming at the yellow light emitted by a small bulb attached to the wall.

No, not an earthquake. A subway train.

The dingy room looked like the New York Subway tunnels. The same dingy stone, stale air, and if Sophia let herself calm down enough to notice, she could probably hear the scurries and squeaks of rats.

But knowing where she was did nothing to calm the panic that slowly bubbled up inside Sophia as she regained more awareness, fog clearing from her brain. Just because she knew she was in the subway didn't mean she actually knew where she was. The system was huge; she could be on the outskirts of Brooklyn or Queens for all she knew.

Sophia turned her head and felt a sharp pain on the side of her neck. Fuck. Something must have happened, there.

She looked down at herself, only noticing then that she was wearing different clothes from the last thing she remembered. Hell, she didn't even own the clothes she was wearing now. The simple black pants and t-shirt were soft but ill-fitting. Someone changed her while she was unconscious.

Someone. There was no point in lying to herself. The necklace she had hanging around her neck only confirmed what she already knew. The gold pendant gleamed in the harsh light, and Sophia wanted to be sick.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. She tried to take in her surroundings a little bit more, see what she had to work with, but even moving her head was a struggle. Her neck hurt and her head pounded. She had to have been drugged; that was the only explanation for her symptoms and her inability to remember the abduction. Nausea assaulted her stomach, creating the need to actually puke beyond just the revulsion she felt about her current situation.

She tried moving her arms, but her wrists were bound behind her. Her legs? Nope, tied to the chair she sat in. Scooting the chair across the room? Again, no. It was bolted to the floor.

She was going to die here. A sob escaped her lips as the thought crossed her mind. Graham had brought her here to kill her. Or leave her to die. Or something. But this wouldn't end well for her.

One final glance around the room told Sophia that there was nothing for her to work with. Except for a chair on the other side of the room and a bucket in the corner, the room was barren.

Sophia did a doubletake when she spotted the bucket, revulsion in the back of her throat when she thought about what it might be used for. She'd probably have to use it, eventually.

She flinched at a large bang, followed by a scraping noise, that came from the very solid-looking door. Trembling and struggling against her binds, doing everything she could to put as much distance between herself and the door, Sophia watched in horror as it swung open and Graham stepped through.

He had changed, although that wasn't particularly surprising. She hadn't seen him in over a decade. But at that moment, Sophia flashed back to the boy she met in high school. The boy who had everyone falling over him because of his golden hair, light eyes, and pretty smile. The first time he gave her that smile and how she felt like the luckiest girl on the planet. The way he had dreams for the future, and the thrill that would run through Sophia whenever he talked about including her in those dreams.

He hadn't been that person in a long time, but even the last time Sophia saw him, there was an inkling that that person still existed, even if he was long buried.

But now he was long gone.

The look Graham gave her was cold. Calculated. A gleam in his eye that told her he was proud of what he had done, of having her tied up, of having total control.

Sophia's body trembled and a tear escaped down her cheek as he approached, his eyes skating hungrily over her body. God, she knew that look. It might have been magnified, but it was the same possessiveness that he looked at her back in college. He felt like he owned her, that he was owed her.

Sophia swallowed hard as he dragged the chair away from the wall and sat down directly across from her, his knees almost brushing hers. She couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She couldn't do anything but stare at him, crying and barely able to breathe.

"Sophia."

When her name came out of his mouth, it was almost with a sort of reverence. His expression didn't soften, exactly, but he was definitely pleased. Desire shone from his eyes, but it wasn't love, or lust. Sophia couldn't quite place what it was. But she hated that her name came out from his lips. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to say her name, not to look at her, not even to think about her.

"Graham." Her voice came out steadier than she thought it was going to, but at the same time, a shudder passed through her body. It was the first time she had said his name to him in a long time.

"I can't believe we're finally here. You have no idea how long I've been dreaming about this moment."

Sophia didn't speak.

"Sophia." He repeated her name, and this time leaned forward, his leg brushing hers and his hand cupping her shoulder.

It didn't matter that it would only anger him and therefore wasn't the smartest route to take. Sophia jerked away from him on instinct, her skin crawling at the feel of him against her. She couldn't actually go anywhere, but her reaction was obvious, the chair scraping against the floor in its limited capacity to move, her entire upper body leaning away from him, her legs widening to get away from his.

The fury that flashed across his features was instantaneous and all-consuming. And unfortunately, very, very familiar. But he sat back in his chair; apparently, he now had some inkling of self-control. Maybe his losing it and hurting her wasn't part of his plan. But at least he was away from her.

"Of course, you'd react like that," he spat, venom in his voice. "Ungrateful bitch."

"What exactly do I have to be grateful for?" she shot back. "I'm tied to a fucking chair in the middle of fucking subway tunnels. You fucking kidnapped me!"

He sniffed. "Your vocabulary has become quite colorful since I left."

Sophia had almost forgotten that. He had always hated when she swore. "You don't really get a say anymore."

"Everything I've done has fucking been for you, Sophia!" he suddenly screamed out, spittle flying out of his mouth. Yeah, he always found it perfectly acceptable for him to swear. "Why the fuck do you think you're sitting there in clean clothes and not the soiled rags that I brought you here in, huh? Who do you think cleaned you? Changed you?"

Sophia couldn't help it, she gagged. It wasn't the fact that she had soiled herself that disgusted her. She would have expected that to happen given the circumstances of her abduction. But him touching her like that? Cleaning her up? It was a violation on so many levels.

Graham's expression twisted at her reaction, but he didn't rebuke her for it. "You've no right to be angry," he said, his volume lowering but the hatred remaining. "None of this would have happened if you didn't break up with me. I've had to fight my way to come back to you, Sophia. I've killed for you!"

Tears streamed down her face. There was no stopping them at this point. But if she only had moments left to live, there was no way in hell she would spend them placating him.

"No right to be angry?" Her voice was broken and hoarse from her crying, but she plowed on. It was her turn to yell. "No right? You fucking abused me, Graham! You hurt me, and stalked me, and manipulated me so that I only wanted what you fucking wanted! You kidnapped me! You tore me away from life!"

Every bit of anger Sophia had ever felt came spilling out of her mouth at that moment. Anger from her exile to New York, from leaving Dean, from the fear that started from the very first time she made the connection between Graham and the murders. Anger from their relationship, from his abuse, from every moment of her life that was wasted because of him. From the fact that he had killed people because of their relationship. And by God, if it was the last thing she did, he would feel that fury, right here and now.

"You don't get to tell me that I don't get to be angry," she continued to rage. "You have me tied up, scared, alone, and you want to murder me. Don't even fucking deny it, I know you do. You terrorized me for years, used my dad's death against me, and just when I fucking felt like I was leading a normal life, put me through all of this hell!"

Drool fell from her mouth onto her shirt and her chest heaved. But Graham seemed unperturbed. Thoughtful, even.

"You don't understand." The way he said the words made it sound like he had just come to some miraculous scientific breakthrough. "You think you were happy. You think I was the bad guy in all of this. But I wasn't, Sophia. I promise. I'll make you understand, but I swear, you still love me. We're meant to be with each other. Forever."

She gaped at him. He had never been a good listener, but this was plain denial. "I'm going to make this as clear as possible," she growled, leaning forward. "I hate you. I. Hate. You. You're abusive, you're a murderer, you're a stalker, and I hate you."

Graham jerked back in his chair and stood up, taking to pacing the room in front of her. "God, you're so fucking difficult," he muttered, and Sophia wasn't even sure that he was talking to her. "Everything I did...all these fucking years...and why? Why?"

His words made less and less sense as he continued.

"Just the same as the rest of those bitches, God, no one can see, fuck!"

Sophia flinched at his last exclamation. With every move, every increase in volume, every crazed look in her direction, she expected him to just pull out a knife or a gun and just finish the job.

But he never did. He eventually stopped and sat back down, leaning forward and bracing a hand against her shoulder. She flinched away again, but this time he held on, digging his fingers into her flesh.

"You don't understand, Sophia, but you will." He heaved with every breath, staring straight into her eyes with a crazed look. "And then we'll be together. I promise you."

He stood back up and pulled something out of his pocket. Sophia struggled away from him when she saw what it was, but there was no use.

"I'll be back for you," he promised. "And hopefully you'll have calmed down enough for us to talk like civilized adults."

Sophia let out a yelp as the needle pinched into her neck, but the pain didn't last for long. Her body sagged, her head dropped, and darkness overtook her once again.