***Ciara's Point of View***

I hear a clutter to my right. I open my eyes and shut them again, it feels too bright, but maybe its just because my eyes were shut for so long, it really is pretty dim in this room. I feel a soft mattress under my body, and start to wonder how I got here. The last thing I remember was soaring through the air off of my motorcycle and landing on my leg, twisting in a way that legs shouldn't twist. The rocks from the concrete dug into my palms as I tried to catch myself, and my head hit the pavement.

But somehow I ended up here, in some wooden structure I have never seen before. Fantastic, I've been kidnapped and raped while I was passed out. My legs are chopped off and about to be fed to me, great.

I'm sure the last one hasn't happened, but the first one is a probable situation.

I hear a door open to my right, I sit up a little, but the pain is too much for my leg and my arms are weak and wobbly, so I stay laying flat on my back. I crane my next to look and see who the figure is walking in front of me. Clearly it's a man, muscular and tall. But when he turns around I see something I wasn't prepared for.

In fact, Ben Weston was the last person I would have thought to take me. He's the last person who would ever carry Ciara Brady to a cabin in the woods, he's the last person who would stumble across my limp body on the side of the road. He's the last person who would wind up in the same place as me at the exact same time. In fact, he's the last person who would tuck me into bed with a bunch of blankets and let me sleep. That's practically what he did, There's two clean blankets on top of me and a pillow under my head, he let me sleep.

Besides my motorcycle injuries, I realized, I didn't have any other pain. He hasn't assaulted me, I would feel pain if he did.

Thank god.

I guess I've been forgetting to breathe, and the dumbfounded look on my face concerned him. He rushed over to my side and put his hand on my shoulder and said "Ciara, are you okay? You've been out for a while, I went out to get some food, if you're hungry."

I bat his hand away after I come to my senses. A serial killer just put his hand on my shoulder, and I smacked it away... The thought gives me chills.

"Like hell I'm going to eat anything that YOU give me!" I scream, a little louder than I anticipated, but the affect it was meant to give him was delivered, he seems unsettled now.

"Ciara listen to me. I know you know who I am, I know that you're probably freaking out right now, but I promise you I didn't do anything to your food. You really need to eat so you can find the strength to get better, you have a pretty gnarly leg break."

He wants me to get better? But why would he care what happens to anybody, he's a killer. Especially me, why would he care what happens to plain old Ciara Brady? Bratty, depressed, boring, victim Ciara Brady?

He pulled a chair up next to me, and after seeing my uncomfortableness I assume, he scooted the chair a little farther back. Why did he do that? It's almost as if he wants me to feel safe.

You know, sometimes the best reply is nothing at all. If I piss him off with anything I say, he definitely won't hesitate to slit my throat or something. So I turn away from him, biting my lip, and try to think of an escape plan.

***Ben's Point of View***

I scoot the chair back, and Ciara gives me a look. She looks from my eyes to my forehead down to my lips, and looks away, giving her lip a bite. This is going to be an really bad time to say this, but she looks so damn cute when she does that. I'm a little hurt that she's too scared to make eye contact with me, but under the circumstances I really can't blame her for feeling that way.

All of a sudden Ciara flails her arms up, reaching behind her to hang onto the headboard of the bed. She attempts to use her legs to get herself up, but she fails to do so, shouting in pain.

I get up and shush her, trying to move slowly so I don't scare her. "Ciara," I say, putting both of my hands in the air by my ears. "I really need to do something about your leg, okay? It isn't looking too good, and what you just did probably didn't help the injury at all.

"Don't touch me please, I mean it! Stay away from me," she said, her voice cracking. Tears start to fill her eyes, and all I want to do is hold her and make her feel okay...