Amy woke up in a small motel room, she looked around the room. It was modestly furnished. She was still quite sore from the previous days assault, but it was more like a dull pain than anything else. Her eyes darted around the room. The last thing she remembered was…Amy immediately started moving around, half expecting to have been bound in some way, but she wasn’t. She rolled out the bed and on to her feet. She was wearing baggy sweat pants and a poor fitting tank top.

“Hello!?” Amy called out. There wasn’t too much space for someone to be hiding or anything. She checked the door. It was locked, the nob for the dead bolt had been screwed off. She went into the dresser beside the bed. Atleast I’ll be able to find out where I am. She thought to herself. After searching through everything, she realized that she was in the worst part of town she could possibly be in. Suddenly being locked in didn’t seem so bad. She looked around for her purse. It was there, along with her ID and some meds. She went ahead and took her pills before turning on the TV. The one thing she was missing from her purse was her cellphone. She glanced over at the motel phone, but she didn’t see the cord connecting it to the wall. Amy sighed and decided she’d have to wait for her new captor before she could do anything.

******

Several hours passed before she heard a key turning in the door. In walked a heavy set black man, the same one who almost killed her. The same one who killed her attackers and apparently the same one who had brought her here.

“John…is that you?” Amy said, hoping the person would say yes. Atleast if it was John, she knew that to some degree she’d be safe.

“Yeah, it’s me…kinda.” The man replied. He looked a lot different than the man she’d met several months before. Mostly it was something about his demeanor that changed, something in his eyes. He put down several large bags before handing Amy a pair of slings and a brace for her hand. “How are you feeling?” John asked, putting several things in the mini-fridge.

“I’m okay.” Amy replied, wincing as she put her brace on. John stared at her for a moment. “What, I’m fine.” Amy protested his accusing look. “I’m still really sore, okay.” she said rolling her eyes. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to get there, I didn’t realize it was you until I actually got to the house.”

“I’m alive, the rest…the rest doesn’t really matter.” Amy replied in her usual dismissive manner.

“Amy, stop. It does matter. I’ve seen your scars. I saw what they did to you. It does matter.” John said, pressing Amy to be honest with him.

“I…I just mean you don’t need to be sorry…” Amy said looking away. “I’ve survived worse.” she continued. John sat down beside her on the bed.

“I know you have. But you shouldn’t have to have survived any of it.”

“That’s life.” Amy shrugged. “I’m going to go take a shower.” Amy said standing up. “Alone…” John nodded. He’d had no intention of joining her despite several conversations they’d had over the time they’d known each other. Not that he didn’t want to, it just wasn’t the time.

The water felt good, cascading down Amy’s bruised and battered body. It was quite was in quite a bit of discomfort washing herself, her arms constantly feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets at any moment. Apparently the bones in her hand had been reset, but she could still see the puncture mark of when Miko stepped on her hand with those stiletto heels. Her mind drifted to the last she’d seen of Miko, her laying on the ground, impaled on a bottle as she crawled out of the bathroom. She saw the look on John’s face. It wasn’t the same as what she’d expected. It wasn’t like the look on her father’s face or the look on her ex-husband’s face. It was different. There was no anger, no nothing. It was just cold, emotionless. She thought about her cousin and how something very similar had been done to her at a very young age. Was he thinking about that when he did impaled Miko like that? Amy wondered. The lack of dried cum inside of her told her that John had cleaned her up before putting her in the bed. She wondered if he would’ve killed her had she not made him cum. This clearly wasn’t the first time he’d killed. But she did have a trump card. Something she knew would keep him from killing her, assuming he even would. Confident that she’d worked everything out, she sat back and enjoyed her shower.

John listened to the sound of the shower starting and sat back, watching the TV. Family Guy was on. He chuckled at the irony, considering the first time they’d met, they were watching Family Guy. He glanced over at her purse and tossed her cell phone back inside. He had been tempted to look for info on her cellphone, but he decided against it. Instead he wondered how long would she be willing to stay before she’d want to get home. What she thought of him, having seen him kill. What was really going on in her head.