When she asked him to take her away, he couldn't possibly refuse her request. He knew he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her if she would let him. "Alright," he agreed as he reached for her hand. Very slowly she met him halfway and placed her small hand in his. They were no longer the captive and captor as she had willingly agreed to remain with him. She sighed heavily at the sensation of his fingers clasping hers. Just that simple touch was like a soothing balm to her senses.
"Where will we go?" he questioned as he gazed into her dark-blue eyes. He longed to pull her close against his chest and enfold her in his embrace. The need to be close to her was like a seering ache within his soul. He knew he had no right to touch her and hold her in his arms after what he had done, but still he longed for it.
"Let's go to a motel," she suggested as a hot shower would be incredibly nice. She needed to wash away the remnants of his earlier attack. Once she was clean again and wearing fresh clothing, perhaps then she would feel more like herself again. "And let's stop by the mall and get some clothes... and a few other things..."
"Alright," he agreed as he lead her from the building and out into the chilling air. Snowflakes fell from the sky, landing within her hair. It was a long walk to the mall, so he wrapped an arm around her in an attempt to keep her warm. No words were spoken as they walked along the sidewalk and traveled several blocks to the shopping center.
A couple of hours later, they had grabbed a bite to eat and were within their room at the motel. She had gone quietly into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. Tears slipped from her eyes as she washed away the blood and the other evidence of his earlier attack. Her body was sore, her flesh still tender, but already the bruises had began to fade. She wouldn't go to the police, and she wouldn't demand justice for his offense. The anguish she saw in his eyes spoke of his regret; and to her, that was enough.
Moments later she had emerged from the bathroom, wearing a t-shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. As he lay upon the bed, she slowly approached. "Hold me," came her quiet whisper.
He reached out, drawing her into his arms. She melted into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest. Lightly, he began to stroke her hair. No words were spoken, but the voice in his head refused to be silent. He knew there wouldn't be punishment enough for the cruelty he had cast upon her. The inner justice he intended for himself would have to be swift and horrific to match the crime.