Shawn told himself not to worry when Chloe said Jean hadn't returned home yet. However, when her phone was off when he tried calling, when hours passed and he hadn't heard from her, he felt the anxiety slowly rising.

If it hadn't been Carmello's, he wouldn't have worried. He had only been there once, but he could feel the darkness surrounding the place with his short visit. He had offered to go with her, and when she said no, he felt like he needed to insist. For some reason he didn't. Why didn't he push it more?

He had reminded himself that she had been going to and from this place for months without his knowledge. Whether she needed to or not, she did know how to take care of herself.

Not able to ignore the feeling within him, he decided just to drive by the club to see if she somehow was still there. When he saw her car sitting in the lot, he did not feel the relief he expected. Unless she had lied about when she left, that meant she had been here for hours now.

His first thought was they had somehow convinced her to take her job back. What if he walked back in and saw her like he did that one night? He didn't know if he could handle seeing those men putting their hands on her again.

No, he trusted her. She wouldn't put him through that again.

When he didn't see her outside, he knew he needed to go in. When he walked through the door, he remembered exactly where he had seen Jean standing the first time he was here. He had been praying that she wouldn't actually be there. Now he was more concerned that she wasn't.

It didn't take long for a girl wearing very minimal clothing and heavy makeup to walk up to Shawn as he peered across the room.

"Hey," she said, putting her hand on his chest and cocking her head to the side playfully. "What can I do for you?"

Shawn was too distracted. He grabbed her hand and held it in his as he continued to urgently look around the room. "Have you seen Jean?" He said, turning to desperately look in her eyes. "Jeanette Arthur?"

The girl was obviously thrown off by his tenderness, and stumbled for a second over her words.

"She doesn't work here anymore," she said, but then her eyes narrowed as she processed what he said. "Wait, are you her boyfriend? The guy who punched Jerry?"

So that's what he was known for? He looked up to see Brooke standing by the bar.

"Yeah," Shawn said, starting to walk away. "If you see him, tell him I'm sorry."

The girl stood bewildered as Shawn walked as fast as he could across the club.

"Brooke!" He yelled over the music. She turned and looked at him, her eyes widening when she saw him.

"Shawn," she said, looking around. "You know you're banned from here, what are you doing?"

Actually he didn't know that, but there wasn't time to think about that.

"Is Jean here?"

She rolled her eyes a bit before turning back to pour a drink. "Don't worry, she just stopped in to get her paycheck. No need to punch anyone."

Had everyone forget that this Jerry punched him first? He was too anxious to deal with her comments right now.

"When was that?" Shawn asked.

"I don't know, hours ago."

"Then why is her car still in the parking lot?"

Brooke stopped what she was doing and looked to Shawn with wide eyes. "What?"

"She never came home and her phone is off."

Brooke stood frozen, clearly lots of things running through her mind. Shawn's heart started to race as he watched her.

"What do you know, Brooke?" Shawn said, his voice hoarse.

She shook her head, obviously in shock. "I...I don't know where she could be. She left, I watch her walk out the door."

Shawn was panicking now. "Well she never made it to her car!" He pulled out his phone. "I'm calling the police."

Brooke didn't protest and she pulled out her own phone and started calling someone too.

After speaking to the police, they told Shawn not to touch her car and they would send someone out. Shawn walked out the door to see if he could find anything; any sign or clue that might tell him where she was.

As he walked across the parking lot, he felt sick. There was no way this was happening. There had to be an explanation. Maybe her car broke down, and her phone died and she walked to get help. No, she would have gone back into the club. No matter what scenario he tried to come up with, it all seemed to end badly.

He started to pray as he looked at the other cars, and scanned the ground of the parking lot. There was something glinting on the ground as the sun was hitting it just right. As he walked over to it, he saw it was just a few shards of glass. However, he saw something else laying on the ground next to it. He picked it up, and saw it was a corner of a phone case that had chipped off.

Jean's phone case. Something had happened here.

He couldn't breathe. His hands started to shake and he looked in every direction as he searched for her. He had witnessed Jean having a panic attack and he felt like he was on the verge of one right now. Where were the police?

He started to run back inside to confront Brooke. She had to know something. As he walked back towards the door, his phone started to ring. He saw Scottie was calling. He answered it quickly, feeling like he was going to lose his mind.

"Scottie, I can't talk now."

"Wait," Scottie said. "Someone just showed up at our house."

"I don't have time—"

He interrupted him. "Jean's mom is here."

***

Jean felt like she was waiting for eternity in the empty hotel room. She was so terrified, she didn't know what to do. Did Donovan actually plan on sending men in here? If he did, why was he dragging it out?

She started to grow hysterical, praying out loud as she asked God why.

"Are you angry with me?" She cried, looking towards the ceiling as tears streamed down her face. "Is this my punishment for lying to Shawn? For working at a strip club? Do I really deserve what's about to happen to me? Have I not been through enough?

She tore at her hair as she didn't hear any response. Maybe Cecilia was right, maybe God wasn't real. Obviously prayer didn't work for her, a girl who had obviously followed him her whole life. Where did that get her?

Shawn had told her that sometimes she would face difficult trials, but God could always turn it around for good. There was absolutely nothing that could make up for what was about to happen to her.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Jean cried. "Why won't you help us?" Her hope had run out.

If God wasn't real, evil certainly has to be. How could anyone take the lives of women just for profit?

She thought about Cecilia and her pocket full of drugs. How much of this could Jean stand before she would be so traumatized she'd have no other choice than to numb herself with those pills. How far was she from ending up just like her? Would they even give her a choice? Would they force her to take them to make her more compliant? Cecilia had said she was roped in just six months ago. Given Jean's history with using alcohol to dull the pain of her reality, she knew she was much closer to a similar fate.

If God wasn't going to help her, she would have to do what she needed to protect herself. Jean started to tear apart the hotel room, looking for something, anything, to protect her. They had guns, and she knew she probably wasn't going to make it out alive if she attacked, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight. She wasn't going to allow them touch her just because she was afraid. She would rather die fighting than end up like Cecilia.

She went into the bathroom and opened the drawers. She noticed the mirror, and then the magnifying mirror on the sink. She opened the drawers, looking for something to help her. She found the hair dryer, put the small mirror flat on the ground, and hit the mirror until it broke. She prayed she hadn't been too loud, and she dumped the pieces onto the carpet. Grabbing the biggest, sharpest one she could find, she held onto it.

She frantically searched for anything else. She tore open the desk, and found nothing but pamphlets and remotes. She ripped open the drawer of the nightstand, and she froze.

The Bible was the only thing lying in the drawer. Tears welled in her eyes as she fell to her knees, slowly picking it up. She had forgotten that hotels kept them here; she had flipped through her very first one at a hotel years and years ago. She moved so her back was against the bed as she opened it up.

She opened it up in the middle and her eyes read Psalms at the top. Looking at the page, she started reading the first thing she looked at.

I spread out my hands to you; I thirst for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, Lord; my spirit fails. Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life. Rescue me from my enemies, Lord, for I hide myself in you. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. For your name's sake, Lord, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. In your unfailing love, silence my enemies; destroy all my foes, for I am your servant.

That was it for her.

The world stopped spinning, the noises around her muted. It took her a second to remember how to breathe. For the first time in her life, Jean felt like she was experiencing something supernatural. Something so much greater than she could ever understand or comprehend. She looked up to the ceiling, chills racing down her entire body.

He was here. She supposed He always had been. She wasn't alone and she was tired of trying to do this life on her own. Shawn wasn't here to save her; he wouldn't come busting through the door like he had before to drag her away. There was no one else. It was only her and Jesus, and it was time to surrender.

This whole time she worried about giving her life to something she couldn't prove was there. She guessed nobody could actually know with complete certainty. It all came down to one thing. Faith.

Faith was a choice. She could choose to believe or not to believe. There was no way to prove one or the other, but with the pages before her that Shawn had claimed was the word of God himself, the scales had certainly been tipped. Blown out of proportion. Right now, with nothing left, and nothing to save herself, she was convinced she had heard God speak to her for the first time in her life.

It was enough for her to choose to believe.

"Okay," she said in a broken whisper, closing the Bible and pressing it against her chest. "I'm yours."

She didn't know when the door to her room was going to open. She didn't know what violence would be thrown upon her. It was very possible that she was going to be killed. No matter what, she knew that Jesus was with her always, until the end.

"What do I do now?" Jean prayed. She closed her eyes and tried to hear from God, but no words came. Instead, the memory of her dancing with Shawn on Zeiler's wedding night popped in her mind. She remembered him pulling her on the dance floor during the married couples dance. She had buried her face in his chest in humiliation. She was confused how she had let her mind wander to this moment at a time like this, but then she remembered another detail of that memory that she had nearly forgotten.

"Be still," Shawn had said. "It's biblical."

A laugh escaped from her chest as she remembered the memory and heard the words. Was that what God wanted from her? Be still, she thought. It was that easy, and it was that hard.

She got up and walked to the farthest corner of the room and sat in the corner, hidden behind the bed. She brought her knees up to her face, trying to make herself as small as possible. She had the glass shard still clutched in her hand, and the Bible pressed tightly against her chest. She felt like it had some kind of power of protection over her.

At the very least, it was a very heavy book to throw at someone.

Pressing her face into her knees, she did her best to be still.

It was quiet for a long time, and she filled her head with the happiest thoughts she could think of over the past months to keep herself from being overcome with fear. She started to see how God was there, all along, even though she wasn't paying attention.

She finally heard Mitch's voice. He was speaking to someone. Instinctually, she grabbed the glass tighter, hurting her hand. When she heard other voices she didn't recognize, her heart started to beat wildly against her chest and her hand was shaking as she clutched the glass and bible harder. After a minute, she swore she heard Cecilia crying through the wall, and then she definitely heard someone yell. Mitch had probably let someone in. She pressed her hands over her ears and started to talk to herself so she couldn't hear the noise. She talked to God, not really even knowing what she was saying. Even though she couldn't hear or see anymore it seemed like so much time had passed. When did they plan on letting someone into her room? The anticipation and fear was killing her.

She heard the knock on the door and she pressed her hands harder to her ears and talked faster to herself. Did they expect her to answer? She kept talking and covering her ears, still gripping the shard in her hand. With he knees to her chest she rocked back and forth, praying they would go away. The knock became louder and she heard yelling even though she tried to drown everything out. Did they accidentally lock themselves out? Jean thought about looking to see if she could see a key card that they'd forgotten in the room, but she remembered God's instructions. Be still.

She heard the door open, and the door hit the wall with a crack. The tears started to roll down her face and she pressed her hands into her ears so hard she thought her head would implode. She spoke louder and louder to herself, to the point where she felt like she was yelling. She was too afraid to look up and see the person who was in the room with her. She was too terrified to stop talking to God. She knew in only a matter of seconds, someone would grab her and hurt her. She was waiting for it.

Instead, she heard a voice yelling louder than she could. It wasn't a man's voice though; it was a woman's. Confused, she dared herself to open her eyes a small amount. She saw a woman in a police uniform, holding a gun with both hands, pointed towards the floor.

Jean lowered her voice as the woman looked her in the eyes.

"You're okay," the officer said, here eyes never leaving her. Her voice was friendly but loud and direct. She kept her gun pointed towards the floor. "For both our safety, I need you to lift both your hands up so I can see them. Can you do that for me?"

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Jean was terrified, having a hard time comprehending what had possibly just happened. Was she really spared? Did someone actually call for help? Jean slowly released the shard of glass from her grip, too in shock to even notice the blood that was trailing down her arm from holding it too tight. It fell to the floor, as well as the Bible that came rolling down to her knees.

"Very good," the officer said. "Now can you raise yourself up to your knees?"

Jean was shaking as she raised herself up as the officer said. She put her gun back on her belt, and she looked at Jean again. "I'm just going to move close to you and make sure there's nothing on you, okay?"

Jean nodded her head, keeping her hands in the air, tears streaming down her face. The officer patted her down quickly, and then told her she could put her arms down.

"Were you being held here against your will?" The officer asked. Jean felt like her voice was completely gone, but she forced out the word.

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

It was a simple question, but she was shaking so much and she was so terrified it took forever to get it out.

"Jeanette Arthur."

The officer spoke into her radio and Jean didn't understand anything she said. She finally looked backed at Jean. 

"It's okay, you're safe now," the officer said. "We're going to get you some help for your head and arm, and we're going to get you home."

Jean didn't feel real when she rose to her feet with the officers help. She was in so much shock and all she could think was; he had done it. God had somehow come down and rescued her.

She was alive. God was alive. He was real.

When she stepped into the hallway, there were more officers outside. Where had they all come from? Mitch and Donovan were gone, but the hallway was filled with people. People that looked like they were just having a normal day before the news of this. She watched as women covered their mouths in shock, a police officer standing guard to make sure everyone kept their distance. Jean turned her head right as Cecilia came out of her room, the same look of bewilderment all over her face.

When her eyes caught Jean's, it looked like she had finally come back to life. Tears welling in them, she put her hands over her mouth and she shook her head.

"How," she whispered to Jean. "How did you do it?"

Jean watched as the biggest smile spread across her face. Cecilia started laughing as tears fell from her eyes. She delicately put her hands on the side of Jean's face, staring directly at her.

"You were sent by God," she said earnestly. She blinked away the tears. "You are the angel I wait for."

Jean stared into her eyes, knowing that something much larger than her, much larger than any of them, had just occurred, and Jesus was at the center.

As the police escorted them down to the lobby, Jean saw the man that was talking on the phone behind the desk speaking with police. He immediately locked eyes with her and pointed, the police officer across from him turning to look at her.

"It was her," she heard the guy say, smiling in wonder as he shook his head. "I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and after Katie told me her suspicions, I knew what we were dealing with."

Jean slowed down as she processed what he was saying. When he saw she was listening, he stepped forward.

"How did you know I could read sign language?" the man said, his face bewildered. Jean's head started to spin and she tried to understand what he was talking about.

"What do you mean?"

"When you were standing here at the desk, you were signing in front of your chest."

She didn't know if she losing her mind or if this man was just crazy. Did he think she was using sign language when she was fidgeting with her hands? "I...I don't know sign language." She immediately thought of Taylor from the wedding.

The man narrowed his eyes and laughed awkwardly in confusion. "My wife has been deaf her entire life," the man said. "You were signing help me."

____________________________________

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

YOU GUYZ

be honest how many of you thought Shawn was gonna bust through the door? 🙋🏼‍♀️

I couldn't, because Shawn was never meant to be Jean's savior. Jesus was, is, and always will be, for all of us. Sometimes it takes getting to the lowest point for us to listen, but Jesus is always, always, ALWAYS worth it.

Also, to save you some time, because I know you were gonna look this up:
https://youtu.be/ziypTZ7HGR4

#2 in Jesus and it's all you guys. Bless you guys for your support, love, votes, comments, messages, massages, manicures, pedicures, procedures omg I'm the worst how'd you make it this far with me

Until the next chapter! All my love,

Rachel