Chapter 11? But I only signed up for 10 chapters. The story tricked me. 20 is my final offer story. *shakes fist* Anyway...this chapter is dark. Just so, so dark in every way really. Emotionally, mentally, physically. It makes me cringe and at times I wondered if I'd gone too far with it. I guess you'll have to let me know. I'd written more detail into the end scene and then I took it out last minute because it felt like too much, so there's that. Also, I'm trying to find the right balance with Olivia. I'm of the opinion that Olivia would find a way/reason/motivation to fight until the very end, no matter what. But realistically, I think after everything she's been through and continues to go through, she'd inevitably have moments where she wanted to give in, give up, etc... I'm doing my best to balance it all. Thank you to everyone leaving reviews. I'll liken my fanfic to a fire and you all are the oxygen. Fire simply cannot exist without oxygen. Your words are the motivation and inspiration that drive me, so thank you again. Warnings: This chapter contains violence and rape.


"Lewis," Olivia screamed angrily, as loud as she could, her yell breaking off after only a second when her voice was stolen by hoarseness that had come from what had to have been hours of yelling. She'd been screaming for him intermittently since she'd come to on the ground, surrounded by trickles of her own blood, her head and ribs aching. It took a great effort for her now to be upright, pacing back and forth as she yelled, one hand held protectively across her ribs. But she barely registered the pain she was in. Only one thought occupied her mind. Zara.

She was gone, Lewis had taken her. And that fact alone would've been terrifying enough, but she remembered the gunshot she'd heard as she was on the verge of passing out, and that sound continued ringing in her ears even now, spurring her on towards hysteria. But there had to be some other explanation for what she'd heard. He wouldn't kill Zara, she was his leverage. She had to be alive. She was alive. The alternative was unimaginable. The fact remained that she was gone and that meant every second that Lewis wasn't spending with her, he could be doing something to Zara.

"Lewis," she yelled again, staring up into the ceiling, eyes searching as if she could see through it and find him. "I know you're up there you son of a bitch!"

He was. He had been for a while. She'd listened to him move around. Sometimes in and out of the house, more often inside the house itself. As if on cue, she heard the creak of the floor boards underneath his feet as he walked around the cabin, but seconds later the sound stopped. And still, the door did not open. How ironic for her to be calling out for him, to be demanding he return when, not long ago, she would've done anything to never see his face again. She turned to face the wall, head down, one arm wrapped around her middle while the other rested against the concrete. He was playing games with her. Yet another demonstration of his power. Because he knew how desperate she was now that Zara had been taken from her, left to some unknown fate. She closed her eyes and brought her hand up, bracing it against the wall, leaning in to touch her forehead to the cool concrete. She tried to calm the torrent of emotion and urgency in her mind, searching for an answer to his game. What did he want from her? What would make him appear? Her anger had done nothing for him apparently. He got her anger all the time. No, she thought, he wanted something, but it wasn't anger or defiance...he didn't want her strength. He wanted what he so rarely got from her, what he had to threaten to get. Weakness. For her to give in, to validate that he was in control, that he had power over her. If that's what it would take, she could give it to him.

"Lewis," she shouted again in a more defeated, passive tone. "Please. I'll do whatever you want, say whatever you want. Just tell me where she is!"

There was a long silence, then footsteps again and this time the footsteps were followed by the sound of the door opening. She felt relief wash over her, then dread. Her heart quickened its pace in her chest, while nervous anxiety took hold of her stomach. He was coming back. As much she wanted this, had insisted on it, there was still a part of her that was terrified at the thought of his return, of what he might do to her, of what he would tell her. She turned around to face him as he descended the ladder. When he reached the bottom step, he spun, his face impassive, eyes locking onto hers.

"Where is she," Olivia asked, single-minded in her purpose.

"Nice to see you too," he replied sarcastically.

"Where is Zara," Olivia persisted.

Lewis folded his arms across his chest and leveled her with cold, hard eyes. "She's gone."

Her eyes widened at the implication of his words. "No," she shook her head vigorously, repeating the word a second time.

"I told you what would happen," he said loudly over her. "I shot her, she's dead."

"She's not dead," Olivia shook her head, her voice loud, refuting his claim. "She's not. I want to see her."

Lewis regarded her with disinterest, her continued protests an annoyance to him. "That'll be difficult, I already buried her."

Olivia looked as if she'd been struck. She was frozen in place, eyes glassy, mouth open. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't believe you," she whispered, turning away from him.

"You don't," he asked, curiously, "If you didn't believe I'd do it, then why did you risk your life coming here? Why did you let me rape you?"

Olivia spun around to face him. "You need her to use against me."

"Do I," Lewis contradicted, eyes narrowed, a finger tapping against his pursed lips. "Weren't you the one that told me I didn't need her anymore?"

Olivia paused, remembering the conversation. She had said those words when she was trying to convince him to let Zara go. Now he was twisting them and she must've been nearer to despair than anger because she didn't even protest his false insinuation.

"Zara got you here, she served her purpose," he told her, "but we can do this the hard way. I couldn't let you get away with that stunt I walked in on. She paid for your mistake. Believe it, don't believe it. But she's not coming back."

Olivia shook her head in wordless horror. "No," she whispered, still refusing to believe what he was telling her. But even as she denied his assertions, she felt a familiar prickling sensation in her nose and wetness began to flood her eyes. Betrayals to her denial. There was no doubt he was capable of it and he was standing in front of her telling her Zara was gone. She heard the echo of the gunshot in her head and she squeezed her eyes shut against the memory of it, flinching away from the images that threatened to capture her mind.

"If it makes you feel any better, it was quick." Lewis reached into his pocket and pulled something yellow from it. He tossed it to the ground between them and she saw that the yellow fabric was stained with red. She inhaled sharply as she realized what it was...Zara's headband.

She put her hand to her mouth, stifling the scream that wanted to tear free from her lips. Her eyes shone with tears which had begun falling down her cheeks. She turned away from him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break...and she was. The invisible hands of grief squeezed at her throat and chest, constricting, burning as she attempted to take a breath, but she couldn't seem to fill her lungs. She put a hand to her stomach as if she could hold back the nausea she felt, a wasted gesture, because the sickness was spreading rapidly. Her legs shook beneath her, small tremors that went up her body until all of her vibrated with devastation and sorrow.

"She cried for you until I pulled the trigger," he taunted, grinning as he twisted the knife.

His words assaulted her, a blow to her already churning stomach that sent her careening off-balance to the toilet a few feet away. She dropped to her knees with no regard for the pain of her bones slamming into the concrete and leaned over the opening. She coughed and gagged as her stomach heaved its meager contents into the bowl below, her throat burning from the acid that had been ejected from her stomach, an awful pain in her ribs at the contractions seizing her muscles. Her vision was blurred, body shaking with the effort of it all, while sobs passed through her lips. In a small corner of her mind, she registered the sound of footsteps on the ladder and surmised Lewis must not have been interested in watching her get sick. He'd gotten what he wanted.

She turned her head in time to hear the door close. Her eyes were drawn again to the bloodstained yellow piece of fabric on the floor. And though she tried, she couldn't stop the images that invaded her mind this time. The scene of her beating replayed in her head and she watched Lewis carry Zara up the ladder, but now she floated behind them, like a specter in another dimension, watching the scene wordlessly, unable to intervene. She saw Lewis drag Zara outside, throw her to the ground, take out the gun and aim it at her. Olivia couldn't take anymore. A fresh wave of nausea bubbled within her and she threw her head over the opening of the toilet as her stomach heaved again. She lingered over it, tear drops raining from her eyes into the water below, her nose running, sweat beaded at her forehead. Her breaths were shaky, quivering, interrupted by intermittent coughs and gasps. Finally she pushed away from the white bowl and swiped at the silver lever. She crawled to the wall and put her back against it, bringing her knees into her chest. She folded her arms across her knees and put her head down on them, her face crumpling as she did so, eyes still dripping liquid sorrow. Her shoulders moved with her sobs, audible vocalizations of pain escaping her lips, cries so raw they should've come from a wounded animal. How could she be gone? Zara, the beautiful little girl so full of life, who loved snow leopards and the color purple. Zara who'd been her anchor in this place and who'd comforted her as she wallowed in the depths of her own despair with a compassion that reminded her so much of her partner.

Nick. The thought was like a knife to her heart. He would be devastated. She'd seen the light begin to disappear from his eyes the moment he knew Zara had been taken and it'd faded every hour she was gone. He'd never get over this. If she managed to hold on, to make it out of this alive, how could she ever look him in the eyes again? Would he blame her? He should. This was her fault. Zara was here because of her and she died to punish her for what she'd done. She'd wanted to escape, motivated by the thought of getting Zara away from this place, from Lewis. It'd seemed like the right thing to do, but all she'd done instead was seal Zara's fate. Why didn't he kill me? It should've been me.

She opened her eyes, her head still resting on her arms, silence surrounding her, but for the sound of her own breathing. She was alone. That was the worst torture he'd inflicted on her, left to sit in the quiet, lit room, reminded that Zara was gone, that he'd murdered her. And he'd be back. Lewis would return to inflict more misery on her and right now she wasn't sure she'd survive, the weight of her grief so heavy, to take on anything else seemed insurmountable. She closed her eyes again, tears still leaking from them while the sobs that wracked her body had begun to subside. It took every bit of strength she had within her to resist the instinct to give up, give in, to concede defeat, whether it was acquiescence or death. Because to fight was exhausting, painful and there was no end in sight. But Lewis had stolen Zara's life and if she gave him hers, then he won, he got what he wanted and Zara's death, her murder, was meaningless. She couldn't, wouldn't let that be. She had to ensure William Lewis could never hurt anyone else ever again.


Nick made his way into the 16th precinct, stepping into a free elevator and putting his back against the wall. He sighed loudly, head down, the stress of everything weighing heavily on him. He'd taken a brief break from the search for Lewis, Olivia and Zara to meet Maria at the hospital. He updated her on the search, visited his mother and talked with her doctor while he was there. He hated not being there for his mom, but as badly as he felt for leaving her, he thought she'd understand. He couldn't stay there...not when Zara and Olivia were with Lewis.

Nick stepped off the elevator and walked hurriedly down the hallway, entering the busy squad room and approaching the desks.

"Hey, you're back," Amanda greeted him, lifting her eyes from the computer screen.

"How's your mom," Fin asked.

"Doctor says the swelling has gone down a little," Nick informed them. "They're keeping her in the coma, hoping she continues to heal. He said it could be a little longer than most because of her age."

"But things are moving in the right direction," Amanda said hopefully. "That's good news."

"Yeah," Nick agreed. "Anything happen while I was gone?"

"A couple of calls to the tip line we have to look into," Fin informed him, "but you know how those are, most of them are still spotting Lewis in the city. We all know he's not in the city."

Nick nodded his agreement.

"Lee...Alicia's back. She got ahold of Archer's case file," Amanda pointed to where Alicia and Cassidy were standing at a map, studying it. "Not that it comes as much of a surprise, but Archer's flat tire was on the same road as the gas station Liv and Lewis stopped at."

Nick nodded his head. They had suspected that Archer was the 'he' Lewis was referring to since the interview. This piece of information only served to confirm their suspicions. "Any idea where Archer was taking his victim?"

"He was about 2 hours north of the gas station when he was caught," Fin answered, "but that's all we know. He could've been 1 mile away from this cabin or 100. We don't know."

"The victim says in her statement that Archer told her he was taking her so far into the forest no one would hear her scream," Amanda recited, prepared to continue, only to be interrupted by Cassidy's voice.

"Which tells us nothing because it's all forest up there," he grumbled.

Cassidy and Alicia joined their huddle around Fin and Amanda's desks.

Nick scratched at his chin. "We can narrow it down. Chances are they aren't on state-owned property."

"I can tell you from experience on another case I worked, most of the forest in New York is privately owned. Something like three-quarters of it." Alicia held up a small version of a map of the state of New York and circled it with the end of her pen, before meeting his eyes with her own apologetic ones. "There will still be a lot of area left to cover."

Nick turned and went to his chair, sighing loudly as he dropped down into it, leaning over so his head was in his hands.

"We need more to go on," Cassidy said finally. "We can't search every forest in the state."

"So we start digging into Archer's life," Amanda suggested. "We find out everything we can about him until we find the piece of information that leads us to Liv and Zara."

They all nodded their agreement, except Nick who was using his middle finger and thumb to rub his forehead, shaking his head as he did so.

"What's wrong Nick," Fin asked.

"That takes time and they don't have it." His voice trailed off as a whisper.

"Nick..." Amanda started to protest, but he cut her off.

"They don't."

"They might," Alicia allowed, head bowed slightly. "I've been reading the case file, and I'm sure you all know this, but hear me out...the torture he put Olivia through was as much mental as it was physical. Lewis is smarter than most. Everything he did and said was designed to break her down. And he couldn't have been happy with the end result. No doubt he'll try again. The longer she holds out now, the longer they have." Her face was solemn, aware this would offer them little comfort.

Nick glanced from Cassidy to Fin and finally to Amanda, all wearing equally somber expressions. He considered what Alicia said, surprised that she seemed to know more than they did about the time Olivia spent with Lewis. They'd seen the injuries, they knew what Lewis had done to previous victims. But when it came to the specifics of Olivia's kidnapping, they were all in the dark, except maybe Cassidy, though he thought he saw an equally bewildered expression pass across his face.

"He doesn't realize there was a recording and that we know about Archer, so as far as he's concerned we know nothing. He won't feel rushed," Cassidy said quietly.

"Does that make you feel better," Nick asked seriously, a look of mutual understanding passing between them.

Cassidy shook his head.

"Yeah, me either," Nick mumbled softly, staring at the dreamcatcher that hung at his desk. He pictured Zara's delighted, smiling face as she'd given it to him and wondered if he'd ever see that smile again.


Olivia heard the door open above her, slamming onto the wood floor and the thud of boots on the ladder, descending to her.

The footsteps stopped and the room was quiet. She sensed that he was staring at her, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, but she wouldn't. She was content to sit with her knees to her chest, head down, eyes closed, pretending he wasn't there, that Zara was and this was all a nightmare.

His boots scraped against the concrete and she knew he was moving, heavy footsteps coming closer until they stopped abruptly. But even that did not phase her.

"We lived out in the country when I was a kid," Lewis started, "It was isolated out there, only a handful of houses scattered just outside the edge of town. There were hardly any kids in the area but there was this one, Roland, a fat little momma's boy. He lived near me. We hung out in the woods, went fishing, things 11 year old boys do. Roland was annoying and pretty useless, but he'd do anything I told him to because he was afraid of me...I liked that." There was a whimsical note in his voice.

Olivia buried her head further into her knees, remembering the last childhood memory he'd shared with her, certain this one would be equally as horrifying.

"Eventually I talked Roland into stealing bottles of alcohol from his house, bringing it to the woods so we could drink it. Then it was his mom's cigarettes, even money sometimes. He didn't want to do it, he was so pathetic, but I told him if he didn't I'd beat him up. Finally, one day Roland decided he had a backbone and he wasn't stealing anymore. You should've seen him, a shaking, stuttering mess whining about how his parents were going to find out," Lewis said, sounding disgusted.

"I told him it was ok, I didn't want him to get in trouble and he believed that," Lewis chuckled. "Roland had this new puppy, Corey, that he was always talking about so I told him we should go fishing the next day and he should bring Corey along so we could play with him. The next morning Roland was waiting in the woods for me, fishing gear in hand, his cute little black puppy on a leash. When we got to the pond, I pretended to have dropped my lure and got Roland to look for it so I could hold Corey's leash. While Roland was searching the grass, I picked Corey up, put him in a garbage bag and tied it. I called Roland's name, held up the bag because I wanted him to see, to watch what I was going to do. He didn't get it at first, and then Corey started pawing at the bag, whining and he finally understood but it was too late. I threw Corey in the pond, watched Roland's face while he watched the bag sink to the bottom knowing there was nothing he could do."

She heard his footsteps again, moving closer until she was sure he was standing right beside her.

"Roland learned a lesson that day. It's not over until I say it's over," Lewis told her and his voice was so close, she knew he was inches away, hovering over her. "Just like you had to be taught that lesson. Zara would be alive right now if you'd understood that."

He ran his fingers through her hair.

"You don't get to escape again," Lewis growled with barely concealed rage, grabbing her hair and yanking her head up. "We're done when I decide we're done."

Olivia glared at him, her eyes hard. "I'm going to kill you." She paused and then reasserted her promise. "No matter what it takes, I will make sure you can never hurt anyone else."

He let go of her hair and took a step back, leaning against the wall next to her. "You already tried that sweetheart," he laughed, amusement dancing on his face. "Look how that turned out. I'm still here...and you're my prisoner. Ain't life funny?"

She picked herself up off the ground and stood facing him. "I'll make sure you're gone this time. No chances, I'll put a bullet in your head."

Lewis made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Olivia," he sighed, shaking his head.

He pushed away from the wall and circled in front of her, only inches away. She met him with a look of defiance, standing as tall as her injured body would allow. He reached out and grabbed her chin, holding it firmly.

"You make a lot of promises. You told Zara everything would be ok and it wasn't, was it? She's dead. Now you're going to kill me? But you're in no position to make that kind of threat, are you," he asked, tracing her lips with his finger. "Your mouth has a bad habit of writing checks you can't cash."

Lewis eyed her lips purposefully, tapping his finger against them softly. "I can think of something better for you to do with that mouth."

Olivia ripped her head away from him, breaking free of his hold on her chin, a look of disgust and contempt twisting her features.

"Why don't you get on your knees," he sneered, pointing to the floor in the space between them, "and you can show me how sorry you are for trying to escape."

"Go to hell," she retorted, unyielding.

Lewis pulled the gun from his waistband and took a step toward her.

"Get on your knees," he said emphasizing each word, pointing the gun at her.

"No."

Lewis put the gun against her temple. "Do it now, Olivia..."

"Or what," she interjected. "Zara's gone. You can't use that threat anymore. You'll kill me? I don't think you will. If you wanted me dead right now, you would've shot me instead of Zara." Her voice broke as she finished. The disbelief and sadness were still so fresh, she wondered if there would ever be a time where saying the words wouldn't take her breath away. She glanced down to the ground, steadying herself.

"You want me alive. You're not ready for this sick game to be over with."

He inclined his head, studying her face, evaluating her resolve. She'd called his bluff and he hadn't expected that, she could see it in his eyes.

"Ok," he conceded, nodding his head, dropping the gun to his side. "You might be right. After all, we have just gotten started. But it doesn't matter, one way or another you'll give in. There are things worse than death, baby. You're about to find that out."

He pulled out the handcuffs and tossed them to her. She caught them and was overcome by the same unease she'd felt earlier. "Now, we're going upstairs. Do you want to put those on yourself or do you want to do that the hard way, too?"

Upstairs. She knew what that meant...fire, torture, pain. The burns on her legs started to sting at the memory of the last time they were up there, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace as he branded her and slammed cigarettes down onto her flesh. She cringed inwardly at the memory. Upstairs meant something else, though. It meant freedom from the chain around her leg. It allowed her to hope that she'd be given an opportunity to escape or to kill Lewis. Here, in this prison, the odds were stacked against her. But upstairs? She had a fighting chance if the opportunity arose. She closed the handcuffs around her wrists and looked at him expectantly.

Lewis regarded her curiously, surprised at her suddenly pliant nature. "Look at you feeling cooperative all the sudden." He moved so he was behind her, flush against her back, his face next to hers, hands sliding beneath her shirt, groping. Olivia shut her eyes and braced herself against his weight. She silently prayed he wasn't going to change his mind and keep her down there, tie her down, rape her again as he'd been threatening to do since he'd done it the first time.

"Are you sure you don't want to do this the easy way," he whispered into her ear, warm breath on her neck. "It'll be a lot less painful, I can promise you that."

Olivia stared ahead stoically. Her silence as definitive an answer as a loud, defiant 'No'.

He stopped his exploration of her body but kept his mouth at her ear. "Have it your way," he whispered, "Just remember, I may want to keep you alive for now, but if it's a choice between letting you escape or shooting you...I'll shoot you. No hesitation." Lewis made a gun with his pointer finger and thumb and put it to the side of her head, pulling the imaginary trigger for effect. He backed away from her, bending down to unlock the chain at her ankle. She felt it slide from around her leg and then the gun in her back, urging her forward.

"Let's go."


The squad room was quieter than it'd been in hours. It was late, the phones had stopped ringing, there was only a skeleton crew left, many having departed for the night after they were forced to re-evaluate their approach to the case. Nick looked around at the empty desks surrounding him. Alicia left hours ago, planning to travel north the next day to speak in person with Archer's arresting officer in the district up north. Cassidy was home showering, changing clothes. Fin and Amanda were out checking into a few leads that had been called in, though they expected to find nothing.

Nick let his eyes drop to the file that lay unopened before him.

2013NY011418 People of The State of New York vs. William Lewis

Nick sighed and shook his head. He knew this was wrong, nothing in this file was going to offer him any insight as to where Lewis had taken Olivia and Zara. There was no good excuse for reading it. But he found himself drawn to it nonetheless. He'd seen it with Alicia's stuff when he'd gone to get Archer's case file and he'd grabbed it on a whim.

Well, not really a whim if he was honest. It'd been on his mind since earlier that day, when Alicia had spoken with more authority about what Lewis had done to Olivia than any of them could.

She was his partner, he'd found her in that house, he'd seen everything...her injuries, what she'd done to Lewis, the bed she was handcuffed to, the look in her eyes. It haunted him still to this day. And maybe knowing the rest, what those four days had been like for her, would be worse. But he felt like he needed to know, especially now.

He heard footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder to find Cassidy approaching. Nick watched him take the seat across from his own, a weariness in his movements and his face.

"Hey."

"Fin and Rollins," Cassidy asked.

"Checking out a lead, they'll be back soon."

They sat in silence for a while, Cassidy with his head down, Nick still eyeing the file.

"She ever talk to you, really talk to you after the Lewis thing," Nick asked, meeting Cassidy's eyes.

He shook his head. "No. I tried, believe me I did." Cassidy paused and then continued, "She had these nightmares almost every night for a long time. Bad ones. She'd wake up screaming, trembling like it was thirty degrees except she was sweating, too. Sometimes it was so bad, it was like she was stuck in them. It was hard to get her out of those. Every time she had one, I tried to get her to talk to me, to tell me what she was seeing...I thought if she got it out, if we talked about it, maybe it would help." His voice trailed off. "But she said I didn't need to hear that stuff. She was fine." Cassidy let out an exasperated huff.

"Yeah," Nick nodded in commiseration and understanding of this sentiment.

After another silence, Nick finally held up the file that he'd been staring at for so long.

"I took this from Alicia's stuff and I've been sitting here looking at it for an hour." He handed the file to Cassidy who looked at it and then back to him in recognition.

"I can't seem to make myself open it, though," Nick told him.

Cassidy eyed it again. "Why's that?"

"Would you? It's right there."

"I want to. But I don't know, it feels wrong..."

"...because if she wanted us to know she'd tell us," Nick lamented, finishing his sentence. "I know. I don't want to betray her trust, even if she'd never know."

Cassidy nodded his agreement.

"It's going to be worse this time," Nick murmured, softly. "Last time he was distracted, this time it's just them."

"I know."

"I won't let her do this on her own again," Nick promised.

Cassidy looked up, meeting his eyes, "Yeah, me either."


It was dark out. That was the first thing she noticed as Lewis hoisted her up the ladder, onto the wood floor of the cabin. The second, of course, was the fire crackling in the fireplace, burning intensely, blanketing the room in a yellow glow. She found her gaze drawn to the flames, a familiar foe that had left it's mark on her countless times with more to come it seemed. She could do this. She could handle what he would inflict on her, as she had so many times in the days she'd spent with him.

Lewis pushed Olivia past the couch and led her into the kitchen, gun in hand. She studied everything she passed, observing every object, every detail, searching for something that might be useful to her.

He held the gun to her back, while he searched the kitchen for some unknown object. Olivia couldn't help but stare at the sink, a slight drip coming from the faucet. The tiny bit of moisture there both a taunt and a promise.

"There they are," Lewis mumbled softly, a pack of cigarettes in hand. He shoved them into his pocket and then picked up a glass from the counter, filling it with a small amount of water. He held it up to her, allowing her to examine it.

"Thirsty? You've got to be dehydrated from all that throwing up."

She was, her mouth was so dry, her throat raw from all the screaming she'd done. And it wasn't just that. She could feel herself getting weaker as each hour passed and dehydration set in further. Her muscles didn't work the same way anymore, her mind was cloudier, and she was tired...so tired. But she knew better, he wasn't about to offer her water out of some kindness that didn't even exist within him.

Lewis put the glass to his lips and drank the water. She watched it disappear sadly, but quickly tore her gaze away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her disappointment.

He set the glass in the sink and smirked, grabbing her elbow. "Let's have some fun."

He led her back toward the couch, around the other side of the room near the door. It was so close, a part of her wanted to run right then and there. She'd get in one good blow and take off as fast as she could. But how fast could she run in her condition? Starved, dehydrated, bruised, maybe broken ribs, no shoes. She thought he'd catch her and if not catch her, at least manage to fire the shot that would kill her. Her eyes dropped from the door to the piles of wood just to the left of the fireplace. That explained his movement in and out of the house. He'd been stockpiling wood inside the cabin, enough to create endless amounts of fire. The thought was unsettling. Lewis led her in front of the fireplace, shoved her down onto the couch and tucked the gun in his waistband. The flames danced in front of her while the warmth licked at her skin. The fire whispered to her, taunting her, promising her misery. She turned away from it, her eyes skimming the room again until she caught sight of silver. It was the knife Lewis had held to her throat on an end table feet away from her. The only thing standing between her and the knife, was Lewis. Hope fell away, there was no way she could get to it. But still her eyes were drawn to it, darting back and forth from the fireplace to the knife in a repetitive cycle as Lewis babbled on about fire, pain and punishment.

"Must be tempting," Lewis said, glancing between her and the thin silver blade on the table. She flinched, surprised at his voice and averted her eyes, choosing to stare at the piles of wood near the door.

"What would you do if I put that knife in your hand right now?"

She turned to him, an exasperated, quizzical expression gave way to unmasked hatred, echoing a promise she'd made earlier, "I'd kill you."

He nodded his head, a look of satisfaction playing across his features. "I thought you might say that."

She looked away from him, her gaze drawn once more to the fire until she noted movement out of the corner of her eye. Lewis' fist crashed into her cheek with force, turning her body so she was leaning off the couch. He used his hands to shove her to the floor at his feet and she landed on her stomach, catching herself on her forearms, face down on the floor. She registered Lewis' movement above her and started to push herself up, but he put a knee on either side of her body, trapping her beneath him. He grabbed the chain of her handcuffs and pulled on it so her arms were stretched out in front of her, palms to the floor.

He moved further up her body, leaning over her, speaking in a low, dangerous voice. "Here's your chance."

He put his hand down on her left arm holding it firmly in place while she struggled to look around, turn her head, decipher some meaning out of what he was doing and saying. And then she saw the blade in his right hand, hovering over her left hand, but it was too late. She watched in horror as the knife stabbed through the air in slow motion, seeming to fall endlessly until it reached her hand, penetrating an inch below her knuckles between her pointer and middle fingers, slicing through to the floor where it pierced the wood with a dull thud.

There was a high-pitched, unintelligible scream permeating the room, reverberating off the walls, that she knew must've been her own. But there was no familiarity in it. It seemed to come from a place within her that had never spoken before, awakened by the unspeakable agony she was in. Olivia stared at the knife in her hand watching blood begin to flow out of the wound, fighting the impulse to move it or make an attempt at pulling it out. She blinked rapidly, disbelief, shock, pain clearly etched into her face.

She felt Lewis' weight lift off of her and he moved so he was directly in front of her, his boots in her line of sight. She lifted her head as much she could manage and found him gazing down at her with a smirk on his face.

"Comfy? You were so interested in that knife, I thought we'd try something new."

He knelt down, resting a hand on top of the blade in her hand. She felt the pressure he applied, the knife shifting slightly against the muscle, tendons and bones of her hand, tearing it further apart, causing further agony if that was possible. She inhaled sharply and held her breath because even the slight movement of her lungs expanding and contracting was too much and somehow made the throbbing in her hand worse. Her eyes closed and then opened again, teeth gritted, right hand clenching into a fist, nails digging into the palm of her hand.

"I can't take credit for this idea, though. This is all Archer," he told her, staring at the point where the blade pierced her hand, "It's really too bad he can't be here. I like that guy."

He leaned down and ran a finger around the knife, smearing the blood that had pooled on her hand. "Lucky for you, I think I missed the arteries."

She didn't feel lucky, not at all.

"But don't worry, if the bleeding won't stop, we'll just have to cauterize it. I think I can manage that."

Lewis put the key in the handcuffs and freed her left wrist, fastening the cuff around the leg of the couch.

Her hand was aching, her heart beating fast, breaths coming out of her in short, loud pants. She was crying and she wasn't sure when she'd started, but it was an involuntary thing, as reflexive as the scream that had torn free from her lips. She put her forehead to the floor, an attempt to tear her focus away from her hand, the knife, pain, but it was useless because it was all-consuming. In her body, in her mind...there was no escape.

"Please," she whimpered.

"Please what?"

She exhaled a shaky breath and inhaled another before lifting her head slightly to meet his eyes. But it was the grin, that horrible, cruel grin, the same one he'd worn as he told her Zara had cried for her, that stopped her from continuing.

He brought his head down so he was level with her, looking directly into her eyes. "What's the matter Olivia? You're not enjoying the hard way?"

He stood up and his feet disappeared from view.

"You can't back out now. Besides, I think I like it better this way. Seeing you like that, pain all over that beautiful face..."

She heard him behind her, shifting noisily on the wood floor and then his hands were at her sides, grasping her underwear and pulling them down her legs.

"No," she sobbed, a hopeless, sorrow-filled cry.

"It reminds me it's been too long since I've had you."

Olivia felt him move behind her, his jeans against the bare skin of her leg. She saw one of his hands come down beside her and he leaned up so his mouth brushed against her ear.

"I'm going to fuck you six ways from Sunday," he whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"And then I'll make a masterpiece out of this beautiful canvas," he added, pushing her shirt up, running his hand down her bare back.

"After that? Maybe you can apologize like we talked about. I haven't decided yet. We'll just keep going until I get bored or you use that knife to kill me. Whatever comes first."

She cringed at the feel of his skin against hers and the intent in his words. Lewis pushed himself up so he was behind her again where she could no longer see him. She heard the creaking floor, the sound of his zipper and the faint rustle of his jeans being pushed down his legs. Then his hands grasped her legs with bruising force, attempting to pull them apart. She squeezed them together and pushed herself into the floor, trying in vain to hold him off. He pulled harder on her legs and in her focus on resistance, she accidentally shifted her left hand, allowing the knife to tear it further, pulling a cry from her lips. The shock of it froze her and allowed Lewis an opening. He pried her legs apart, lifting her hips and pressing himself into her. She let out of frustrated sob at the feel of him, at yet another battle lost and the inevitability of what was about to happen. He lifted her hips further, positioning himself at her entrance and in one painful thrust, he was inside her.

Lewis groaned, a low, guttural sound. He stretched one hand up to grab her hair, yanking her head back.

"You hear that Olivia? Silence. No singing this time. It's just you and me now."

He let go of hair, repositioning his hand at her hip and then he was moving inside of her, violently, relentlessly while she dropped her head to the floor in defeat, staring with lightless eyes into the fire, her body shifting with each invading thrust.

Olivia closed her eyes and prayed for the oblivion that had taken her after his beating, but it didn't come. She'd been abandoned by the dark abyss, left to awareness as Lewis ravaged her in the light of the fire, like a hammer to glass, shattering her, killing her. But it wasn't the literal act of injuring her body so severely that her heart would stop pumping, her lungs cease expanding. It was the intangible destruction of everything she was, her very soul. Second after second, act after cruel act, she was losing herself and there would be nothing left when he was finished. Just a hollow, empty shell of a body that he'd eventually kill, too.

She opened her eyes and stared lifelessly into the flames again, a single tear rolling down her cheek, numb hopelessness seizing her mind. She watched wisps of smoke drift away, sailing higher and higher above the the angry, raging flames and she longed for that freedom. To float away, escape, disappear into nothingness. No more grief, no more misery, no more pain. Just...nothing.


Rough? Not as rough as other chapters? It's always hard to tell. And could someone please save Olivia?