The cold, damp air surrounded Caroline as she was dragged back to the small cage. A cage that had been her home for the last five years of her life. Yes, five years of torture that had left their mark on her both physically and mentally. She bit back a cry of pain as she was tossed into the cell, just like an animal, without an ounce of respect.

Taking a deep breath she looked around at the dozens and dozens of cages around her, they were filled with weeping women. Guilt washed over her again when she saw their faces, filled with fear, some crying, some praying and others, the oldest ones there had embraced the worst feeling ever: acceptance. Caroline didn't know in which category she fit, but she had given up praying a long time ago and tears, they had stopped falling years ago.

A bitter laugh escaped Caroline's lips, she was an F.B.I agent, this wasn't supposed to happen to her. She had been trained to handle any type of situation, to fight and yet she had managed to get herself captured. Instead of saving these poor women she, the big tough agent who claimed that nothing could ever happen to her, had ended up in their same predicament.

How could she have been so stupid? It was the question that had plagued her mind for the last five years. Feelings, the very same thing she had been specifically told not to let get in the way had led up to her capture.

Matthew Winters, the suspect she'd been sent to investigate. Owner of a multinational company, partner of many charities, the most charming man Caroline had ever met, someone who had easily broken through her walls and made her believe in his innocence. That man was nothing but a ruthless killer, head of a sex-trafficking ring and she had been too blind to his real face until it was too late. Even after he threw her in a cage, the naïve part of her still hoped that it was all make-believe, that nothing was real, that she would wake up and Matthew would still be her Prince Charming.

A woman's blood curling screams tore through the silence, but Caroline didn't even flinch. Screams were a natural occurrence here. During her first weeks she had cried out, pounded against the bars trying to get to the poor girl that was yelling at that moment. Her attempts had been stopped by the realization that she truly was helpless and that when she was the one to plead for help silence had greeted her.

Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, to block out the now muffled wails in order to prepare her body for yet another day in hell. Another day in which she would have to endure a sick bastard who would pay to act like he was her master, like he owned her, like she was his favourite toy. And the truth was that for them that's what she truly was.

Matthew's face appeared and a shudder went through her body. He was the worst of them all, so cruel and she was ,as he liked to call her, his pet. Using her little remains of willpower she ordered herself to go to sleep and not let Matthew haunt yet another one of her dream, but somehow she knew it would be useless.

Loud voices and a gunshot pulled her out of her terrible nightmare and she couldn't believe her eyes. Strong, bulky men had barged in the room, guns out and had ordered every single one of her captors to lay on the ground. The ones who hadn't listened had been shot. What left Caroline breathless were the letters on the back of their bulletproof vests: F.B.I. They'd found her, after so much time they'd found her. She pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming and when she looked up again her boss' face came in sight.

" Caroline," his raspy voice whispered as his eyes roamed over her body checking the extent of her injuries. Shock graced his featured as he took in the minuscule dirty robe that did nothing to hide the scars that marked Caroline's body. She looked sickly thin and her eyes no longer held that fire Alaric had always admired.

The young woman just stared at Alaric Saltzman's face, her lips unable to form any words. Alaric's eyes had a slight shine to them – possibly unshed tears, not that he would ever admit that. Slowly without uttering a word Caroline stood up, the filthy blanket wrapped around her tiny frame as Alaric opened the cell's door.

Freedom, that's the first thing that crossed her mind, yet she remained unmoving, like she was unsure of what her next step should be. Alaric seemed just as confused, not knowing how to treat his field agent who had literally returned from hell.

A few more seconds were spent with them awkwardly looking at each other before Caroline, without a warning, rushed into his arms eager for the comfort a familiar person's embrace would bring.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner," Alaric mumbled in a strained voice. "We tried, I swear to God we tried."

Caroline just nodded against his body and after a few more seconds she pulled away from his soft grip. Alaric started to lead her to the exit, his hand gently resting on the small of her back, but she was oblivious to him, staring for the last time at the warehouse and at the women that, just like her, were heading for the exit.

Deep down she knew she should be crying or at least emotional, every single one of the other girls were and the old Caroline would surely be sobbing by now, but she felt nothing. No relief, no happiness, nothing, she was just numb. When the doors of the ambulance closed leaving Alaric and that godforsaken shed behind, she only knew one thing: she wasn't the same and she didn't think she would ever be able regain her optimistic and cheerful personality that people used to look up to.

"Never," whispered her inner voice who sounded an awful lot like Matthew," someone as damaged as you isn't worthy of people's appreciation."

Those words echoed in her mind and the worst part was that Caroline Forbes believed each and every single one of them.