<div style="background-color:#000000; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#470000; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#800000; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#000000; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i.imgur.com/3da4nIm.png">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>___________________________________________________________</div><br/><br/><table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;">If he’d not wanted her to scream, he shouldn’t have rushed her. He shouldn’t have tied her up and held her there against her will. He shouldn’t have then followed it up with the feel of his hand over her mouth, causing her panic to skyrocket and to make her feel like her life was in jeopardy. Like this was right out of a horror movie where she was going to be the first person offed. For all she knew, it was worse than that. He could have been working out of this dive for ages and she just happened to be unlucky enough to catch his attention. He could have had an agenda. Maybe she <span style="font-style: italic">was the first</span> and he’d been watching her for weeks. Months, even.<br/><br/>Whatever it was, her mind was running away with her, she a powerless victim merely watching it all rush by as the screams continued to come forth despite the hand that stifled them. Looking up at him were eyes filled with sheer terror and nothing but.<br/><br/>She was injured, she was tired and all she wanted was to go home, clean up, and sleep it off. But, she wasn’t that lucky, instead waking up in a dank motel room, the bed seemingly losing layers of crust with every movement she tried to get free of her ties, the panic in her chest threatening to break free at any moment. And, to top it all off, the moment her lips parted and she’d begun screaming, his hand had clapped down on her with the threat of…jail time…for <span style="font-style: italic">her</span>?<br/><br/>Her mind began spiraling, trying to process where he got off threatening her with the slammer when it was her that was tied up to the bed. What had she done to him to warrant that?!<br/><br/>Glancing over him, she could see that he was hurt. Whatever it was that’d happened, the simple jeans and shirt he’d worn were now sullied, stained with deep reds turning brown the longer they sat into the fabric. He looked a little worse for wear, but he should have if he was the one who’d tied her up there. She hoped that he’d been hurt by her hand, that she’d gotten to him before ending up here.</td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;"><span style="font-style: italic">But why can’t I remember?</span> the woman asked herself, staring up at him with anger, with terror, brewing in those depths, unable to voice exactly what she was feeling and thinking because she wasn’t certain of anything. <br/><br/>Had she done something to warrant this treatment and the threat of authorities?<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">No, you didn’t,</span> Helena instantly answered herself. <span style="font-style: italic">No one innocent would tie you up like a prisoner in a motel in the middle of nowhere like this. <span style="font-weight: bold">You’re</span> the victim. Not him. You got him while he tried to bring you here. It’s as simple as that.</span> The thoughts, though, held a tone of uncertainty behind the bravado. Even in her mind, she couldn’t fully commit to that stance until she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what’d happened. While her body hurt, she couldn’t believe that an animal had really attacked her. Had it even been an animal? Had she been dreaming it? Is this real?<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">It sure as hell feels real…</span><br/><br/>Time had stretched on, his hand over her mouth beginning to feel too weighted for its own good. She felt stifled, sick, and he wanted her to keep her screaming to herself, to have a <span style="font-style: italic">little talk</span> with her… What else could she do? <span style="font-style: italic">If I did do something…I’ll find out and then I can figure out how to proceed. If I didn’t and it feels wrong, I’ll scream and get him caught…Maybe I can keep fighting these restraints while we talk…It can’t hurt to try.</span><br/><br/>There was a pause in her inner monologue as her mind decided to helpfully add, <span style="font-style: italic">well, it could hurt because you could die…but you don’t have a choice.</span><br/><br/>Mind made up, she took a breath and winced before, finally, she blinked once and stared up at him as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.</td></tr></table><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">___________________________________________________________</div><br/><br/><span style="color: #000000">line break formatting</span></div></div></div></div>