Disclaimer: I do not own any characters..make no money..yadda yadda yadda.

The first day had passed at a decent clip, all things considered. She was tired, and she was cold. She was humiliated. She was ravenous. And the thirst. And the silence, oppressive silence. Only her voice to keep her company. At first she had sung a bit, and recited poems, old poems she had memorized in grade school. The periodic chart of the elements. The bones of the human body. Anything that passed through her mind. The noise kept her calm a bit. She paced, she did anything she could to distract herself from the current situation. Anything to keep her thoughts off of those two words he had said, "Goodbye Abby."

On the second day, she was quiet. She had been still just long enough, unoccupied just long enough that the meaning of his words hit her full force, like the hardest of his blows. He wasn't coming back. Leaving her here to die, to be broken, shriveled, and wasted. She didn't feel hungry any more. In medical school, they had gone over this, how sometimes after a day or two, the body became numb to hunger. So the ache in the pit of her gut was gone. But the dryness in her throat and her eyes, the stiffness, the headaches, cramping and muscle spasms, all of that, she could still feel. And she was still alone in a world of silent misery.

It was the third day when she forgot that it was the third day. How long had it been since she last saw Martin? Since he last touched her? She wanted someone, to hear a voice, even his. Anything other than the silence and her thoughts. She could not close her eyes and dream the people up, for there was a deep seeded, gnawing fear that if she did, she would never open them again to see or hear real people. The room was frigid. The fact that she was starving added to it. Yet her throat burned for want of water. The man was smart. He was winning.

He knew how to break her, and he had done it. Nothing for three days. Not clothes, not warmth, not food or drink. Not even the sound or sight of other humans. Nothing. Dark, plain walls and a hard floor. She could not, would not disobey him if he gave her a second chance. She needed human contact far too much to throw away this one. She needed not to be like this. Either dead or out of here, but not like this. Anything other than remaining like this, she couldn't escape. There was no other way.

Had other women gone through this? Martin had admitted it, that he was the Michigan Avenue Strangler, but he had also told her that the others had lasted fourteen days. Only fourteen. Why was she still here? Still alive? Still suffering? Would he kill her? If he was to kill her, could he simply do it now? Would he, please? Just free her from this hell.

She took a breath, trying to calm herself, chase away a bit of the panic. She needed a way out. But she couldn't think. Not clearly. Not beyond the most basic animalistic thoughts. Food. Water. Warmth. So, with nothing else to do, she lay down to rest. She slept in an instant.

Martin watched as she slowly succumbed to sleep, he knew that he had broken her, he had finally won. He let her sleep for a while, before entering her room, it would be the last time she was in this room, he had another surprise for her.

"Abby, baby doll," he bent down next to her, and placed a hand on the side of her face, brushing away some of the hair that had fallen across her face. "Its over now, you need to wake up for me," the other hand went to her back and he began rubbing circles on it. He knew it would take a while for her to come around, and to be honest he was starting to get a little worried. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom, right down the hall, quickly wet a washcloth, filled a glass of water, and raced back to her room.

He brought the rag to her lips, and gently ran it back and forth, eventually he got a reaction.

"There you go," he set the rag aside, onto the floor, then lifted her into his arms. He carried her down the hall into a new room, and set her down on the bed. Then he ran back to the other room and once again grabbed the rag and cup of water.

It took twenty minutes before he was able to coax her into taking a sip from the cup, but she finally did, before she would fall back into the bed.

"Hey there, welcome back," he whispered once he noticed Abby finally beginning to open her eyes. "You gave me a scare, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to bring you back, but I did, and you're here now." he bent down and kissed her softly on the lips, noting that they were still dry. Maybe, later if she was feeling better, they could take a trip down to the drug store and get some chap stick. The media storm had died done a little bit, he could risk taking her out in public. She would behave now, he knew it. He watched as she stared at him for a bit, but then looked around the room. "Abby," he began, "have you learned your lesson?"

Abby watched as Martin leaned down to next to her, asking if she had learned her lesson. Of course she had, who the hell wouldn't have? She relaxed into the bed, her body still exhausted. Then it occurred to Abby, she was lying in a bed, warm, soft blankets were piled on top of her, she wasn't cold, her head didn't pound as much. Why had everything suddenly changed? The last thing she remembered was lying down, freezing and thirsty on the hard floor of her cell, and now she was in here, wherever "here" was.

"Where am I?" she whispered to Martin.

"In your new room, I redid the extra bedroom I had, just for you, how do you like it?" he seemed proud of his work.

Abby looked around, it was nice, there was a window, high up on the wall so that she couldn't actually look directly out of it, yet it let sun light in. The room had been painted a light blue, and had various paintings on it. The blankets that were covering her matched the walls, as did the sheets, and the pillow cases. But the thing that surprised Abby the most, was that there in the corner of the room, was a television set.

"Thank you," she stammered somewhat confused.

"Your welcome. I was thinking maybe later today, if your feeling up to it, maybe you would like to go outside, for a walk?"

"Yes," Abby didn't know what had come over Martin, but if he was offering her the chance to go outside, he'd better believe she was going to take it.

"Alright, but no funny stuff you know that Abby,"

"I know,"

Martin smiled down at her, before standing up and walking over to the closet. "Here's some clothes for you, you can get dressed. We'll leave in about twenty minutes," and then he walked out, leaving Abby stunned. She did, however, hear the familiar sound of a key in the lock, he obviously still did not trust her enough, he had good reason to.

Abby stood and walked over the closet, searching for anything to wear. She finally decided on a pair of jeans and a black shirt, it still scared her how he seemed to know everything about her, including her size and taste in clothing. After she was finished dressing, Abby looked around the room and onto the dresser. On top of it was a brush and multiple rubber bands to pull her hair back. She quickly combed her hair back into a somewhat nice pony tail, as the knock on the door came.

Martin didn't wait for her to respond, just walked in. "Those looks nice on you," he pointed to the faded jeans that she was currently sporting. "Here," he handed her a baseball hat, "you have to wear it, we cant risk anybody recognizing you." Abby took the hat, and placed it on her head, pulling her pony tail through the back of it. "And these too, I'm sorry, but we cant risk anybody seeing you, not yet anyway.

It took twenty three minutes, door to door, walking distance. The fresh air was a welcome feeling to Abby, after being cooped up in a house for three weeks. Martin was right, nobody recognized her as they walked down the street. Her surroundings, however, were the major shocker. She knew them, knew exactly where she was. Only blocks from county, blocks from Jake, Susan, Sam, her life. For three weeks he had held her, and it had turned out she was so close to her home. But if she was so close, how come the FBI couldn't find her? Hadn't they combed the neighborhood looking for clues, evidence, anything? How could they have missed her?

When they first entered the store, Abby stopped in her tracks, it was as if she was overwhelmed at the site of other human beings. But Martin quickly picked up on it, and gently pulled her along with him, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. To the public, it looked as if the two were just another couple stopping at the store.

As they walked around the store, Abby kept her gaze down, she didn't want Martin to think that she was trying to get help, to escape. She really wasn't.

"Would you like something to drink?" they were near the refrigerator section now, Martin had grabbed a coke, and was now gesturing for her to pick something out.

"Water?" she asked.

"Sure," he reached over and grabbed the largest bottle he could find and handed it to her, and they continued about their shopping.