Waking up everything still spun. Before she opened her eyes, she heard voices. She felt nylon, and the air was cool. There was a humming. There were voices. A voice. Her eyes were much too heavy. Her throat burned, and her stomach was clenched. Barely even moving she felt the cold sweat that must have poured off of her into the thin sheets underneath her. She didn't open her eyes though.

"Yeah I got her here, No, listen…." She opened her eyes. Her eyes met his. Blurred but she still could make them out. Blue eyes. Pacing around near a shaded window. The TV soundless in the background, a news reporter on CNN in a blue wool suit talking with no words. She couldn't look at him. She just focused on the red mouth, without words.

"Yeah, I gotta go." He said, flipping down his cell phone, and taking a deep breath.

He gave a nervous smile. She did her best not to feel 16 again. But she fucking did. She so fucking did.

"You doing okay?"

Did it look like she was doing okay? The marks on her arms could've told him that. The vomit he'd no doubly cleaned up already on the floor could've told him that. The way she didn't recognize her own name anymore could have told him that.

"Look…we don't have to talk now. You should sleep, I mean I'll get you some water or something. Just, go to sleep." The way he talked to her was so forced. She couldn't help but think that this was a dream. She couldn't help but think that that girl that he was talking to, had died. Like he was talking to some ghost. An apparition he'd glimpsed at when he saw her image. But even her empty eyes could've told him that.

Because she wasn't that girl anymore.

"Stay here." He said, not like he used to though, tentatively. Like he was scared to tell her what to do. As he left, she pieced it together. The familiar cheaply fake duplicated hotel furniture. The scratchy nylon comforters and chair coverings. The dimmed lamps, and plastic covered channel guide that sat next to her on a flimsy wooden end table. She was wearing baggy clothes. Which, had to be his. No where in sight where her clothes.

She had to get out of here.

It clicked in her the second she finally settled in. She couldn't stay. Panic started to creep over her, she couldn't let herself. Realizing he'd be back soon she threw the sticky sheets off of her and finally eyed her boots by the door. Even putting them back on was too painful of a thought.

She wasn't even thinking as she stood up shaking profusely. Everything ached. Everything hurt. Even the numbness she had always felt couldn't block out the physical pain she was feeling. She even felt a little blood coming from her arm underneath the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. Then on the top of the TV, she saw the leather black book. She quickly opened it up, and inside was her key.

She grabbed it alland ran. It was almost dark out, a thought skimming her mind that she must have been sleeping the entire day. Dusk and it was still hot. The corridor wasstretching outway too longRunning so hard again, but she was too weak. This time she saw him and gave up. He was already standing there at the edge of the stairway of the motel, in this unfamiliar neighborhood he had taken her to, she didn't know what else to do.

She had no way to get away. She was trapped. And she knew that this time she couldn't escape. Feeling the sobs coming through her, but she couldn't even cry. Sticky sweat, and pain was all she felt. But this time, he was there to catch her.

"I'm not leaving you."

He said becoming every bit of who he used to be. And she surrendered partly, under the orange sky and dimming sun.