Glad you guys liked the first chapter so much! Here's the next installment. xoxox -Brittani

WARNING: Sexual content. Rape scenes. Adult themes & language.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own American Horror Story or any of the characters.

SPOILERS: Uhm, maybe up through "Dark Cousin". Not too much though.

Lana awoke, startled, like a deer in headlights. Sweaty, shaky, and alarmed, she rolled over in her bed to reach for the wooden frame that held her favorite picture. Whenever she had a nightmare, which happened somewhat frequently after hearing some of the graphic stories her coworkers told her, Lana would stare at the photo of Wendy she had taken herself. W was naked, only her soft, porcelain breasts were covered by the white sheets of their bed. Her hair was a mess, an obvious indication they had just finished making love, along with the cigarette in her hand, which she had after almost everything, especially sex. Lana vividly recalled that day. She cheekily grinned, but stopped after something caught her eye. Curiously observing the background, a quick realization hit her. When did her and Wendy's always white bedroom walls suddenly become covered with bricks?

"When did Wen…?" She thought aloud.

"Oh, what are you whining about now?" A smooth, yet deep and gravelly voice questioned from what seemed to be above in the room. Two things immediately appeared to Lana.

One, why is there a man's voice in her house? And two, how is there a voice coming from above if there's only one level to the house?

Creaks ached from the ceiling, getting farther away the longer they seemed to go on. Lana didn't dare move a muscle or make a sound, as she didn't want to risk the stranger coming back. After she felt that the mysterious visitor had left the vicinity, Lana decided to open her eyes and take a look at what was really going on. Was this some sort of sick joke Wendy had played on her? She liked messing around with Lana, partially because she knew it'd most likely end up in hot, passionate sex once Lana came around, but mostly because she felt it helped relieve a little stress from Lana's hectic life. Lana rubbed her eye sockets to clearly focus on her surroundings after shutting them so tightly.

What was this place?

She had surely never been here before. Throwing the covers off of her and on to Wendy's side, Lana kicked her legs over the side of the bed, usually signaling the start of her day. But she was stopped mid-swing by a gentle tug. She looked down to discover that her ankle was strapped down by a thick, rusty chain.

Panic. Despair. Captured. Defeat.

All these ran through her head. Terror shot through her veins as she started to search around the room for something to break the awful binds constraining her body to the bed. That's when the shadow appeared in the corner of her eye.

"Are you really trying this again?" It had said, in the same voice from earlier.

"Who's there? Who the fuck are you? Where the hell am I?" Lana roared in utter dismay.

"What? Did you hit your head against another door? Or are you just trying to play a little game with me? Cause I love games! Ooh, what is this one called? 'Damsel in Distress?'" Toyed the shadow, at the top of the stairs.

To possibly get answers to some of her questions, Lana played along, "Well, maybe if you get down here, I'll show you how to play."

"Be right there, mommy!" The voice had called.

Mommy? What the fuck?, she thought. The silhouette started to descend from the top of the stair case.

Step.

Step.

Step.

As the light filtered onto the figure, a face crept from the abyss of the blackness. His jet black hair, black as night, had been slicked back. A little 5 o' clock shadow was showing upon his chiseled chin. The strange man also wore glasses with silver frames, Lana had noted. Time seemed to pass in slow motion.

With each step down the stairs growing ever closer to her, more and more details popped up about him.

Step. Step. Step.

The man wore black dress pants but must have taken his jacket off because he only remained in a white wife beater. But oddly, this gave him a sophisticated look. Sane looking, yet his eyes said otherwise, considering the way he stared at her. He wasn't muscular; toned, rather. Lana thought if things got overly confrontational, she would be able to hold her own. Definitely not the strongest man on the planet. His cocky strut down the stairs refused to acknowledge this fact, however.

Step. Step.

He almost reached the bottom of the flight.

Step.

As soon as he hit the foot of the bed, a name popped into Lana's head.

Oliver.

It just seemed to fit perfectly. She had not known how she guessed his name, but she was absolutely sure of it.

"So, Mama Winters, how do we play your game?" 'Oliver' asked. His sarcasm now overshadowed his benevolent façade.

Lana retorted, "First, you have to answer some of my questions."

"Ugh, fine. Such a strict mother…." He mumbled.

"Why do you keep calling me your mother?"

"Do you suffer from amnesia or something? You agreed to it, silly!"

"Stop acting like a child! It's overly disturbing."

"But mom…" His impression of a child whined.

"Stop. Stop it, now! Or I'll bash your face in!"

"Wow. Alright, if it will settle you down. Jeez. And everyone says that women can't be aggressive." He chuckled. "Now what exactly do you want, La-na?"

"I want you to tell me exactly where in the hell I am and why. How long have I been here?" Lana pleaded.

"You really must have amnesia," he started to wonder, "You really don't recall anything?"

"Obviously not." Lana said snobbishly.

"Well, excuse me. Do we have to be so snippy? But let's see, it's been about two astonishing weeks now and I couldn't be any happier. I knew you were the one. So, I just had to bring you back to my house and here we are now." He took a seat on the bed, "Anything else?"

"How hasn't Wendy found me by now?"

"She took a little…vacation."

"Where is she? Where is Wendy? My Wendy. Where is she, goddamn it!" Lana's voice strained as she hostilely searched for answers. "Tell me right fucking now, Oliver!"

"I'm thoroughly surprised you even remember my name. But before I disclose anything else, have a cigarette. I hate dealing with belligerence." He extended a pack towards Lana. She reluctantly grabbed it and quickly pulled one out. Oliver jumped off the bed to retrieve a box of matches. He struck the stick against the flint and held the flame to a cigarette of his own and walked over to repeat the same with Lana. When he sat down again, she saw that he had moved closer than before.

"Better?" Oliver questioned.

"I guess. Now tell me, why me?" Lana declared coldly.

"I told you already. As soon as I saw you in there, something just clicked with me. Something that I've never felt with any of the others. So I needed to have you. Here. With me. Forever. I needed you, mommy. And now I have you. All to myself."

Lana grunted to stop herself from muttering anything that might cause a scene. She took a long drag of her cigarette, "You never told me what happened to her." She felt that Wendy's name was too sacred to be used in his presence, since he appeared to be hiding something, something that stuck 'unworthy' to his name.

"We played your game, now it's time to play mine before you get any more answers…" A capricious smirk lit up on his face, instantly shifting the atmosphere to a heavier, darker mood. Oliver shimmied adjacent to Lana, swiping the half-burned stick of tobacco right from her frigid, bony fingers.

"Hey! I wasn't finished with that!" She wanted to savor every second of it, not knowing when she'd have the chance to indulge in another.

"I'm just being kind. If you have that while we're playing my game, you might burn yourself. Plus, I'm looking out for myself, as well. Wouldn't want you to pull any fast ones, would we?" He walked over to his work table and grabbed something unidentifiable from Lana's perspective. Just as quickly has he left, Oliver returned to Lana on the bed, practically lying on her lap. "Ready to play?" He was almost ecstatic now. Lana had been thoroughly terrified at this point. Oh god, how did I get myself here? What happened to me?, she contemplated over and over.

Oliver started to slither up her body, "I'll take that as a 'yes'." His flush skin contrasted heavily against hers as he reached for her wrists. Slowly moving her arms above her skull, Oliver positioned himself atop her frail frame, pinning her wrists to the headboard. In one of the most gracious motions that Lana had seen from him, he placed a small kiss on her jaw. Every second or two, the kisses got closer to her full lips. When he arrived at her mouth, Oliver leaned into her, making up for the lack of desire on Lana's end. Electricity surged through his breath, but the circuit failed to continue when it entered her cheeks. "Get the fuck off of me", she screeched, pushing at him, but it did no good considering he was larger than her, "I'm a lesbian. I don't want you."

Oliver was fed up. This was his "play time", which meant this was no time for messing around with him. So he pulled out the concealed object, a rather large knife, held it against her throat and yelled, "NO. You shut the fuck up and let me have my fun. Or I WILL kill you." He continued, "And I wouldn't want to hurt my poor mother…." Oliver propelled himself to her soft, vulnerable face.

"Please." Lana pleaded, begged, for her security.

"What the fuck did I say? Shut the hell up! Now!"

She complied, knowing nothing could stop him, so she decided it was better to give in to his dirty demands rather than to put herself in danger, or better yet, end up dead. The sound of bed springs rasping were followed by zips coming from his trousers. The pants flew to the ground as Oliver started to remove his white boxers, a color that definitely didn't stand for his purity. Only in his tank top and socks, he positioned himself parallel to the once tenacious reporter, turned feeble prisoner of captivity. Lana laid there expressionless, motionless, and thoughtless, as if her soul had jumped straight from her body. Oliver pushed her blue nightgown up her thighs and spread her legs to reveal her sanctified chamber of sex. As soon as he entered her, all sensations flooded her being at once. Thoughts raced unrelentlessly inside. This is disgusting! I wish I were dead. How can I make him stop? How can I kill this sick bastard?

Grunts went on for what seemed to be hours, but truly only lasted minutes. Lana looked up at the head above hers while the head's body thrusted back and forth, back and forth, over and over, nonstop.

"I love you so much, mommy." Oliver managed to force out in between jabs at her pelvis.

The image of his silver frames would be forever burned into her memory. His sweaty, hairy arms above her shoulders suddenly stopped shaking. She knew what had happened. He had come. Oliver then deliberately moved his head next Lana's. She felt the hot breath nudging her eardrum, so she closed her eyes, hoping to block out this feeling.

With a grin, he murmured,

"I killed her."

Lana immediately sat up.

"WENDY!"