"This guy… is he… abusing you?"

She couldn't look in his eyes, no, not those eyes. Not those pitied eyes. Eyes that saw her as weak and vulnerable. She couldn't stand pity, especially from Freddie. She averted he eyes anywhere but the man in the suit.

However everything she looked at was nauseating.

The chairs, the side tables, the lampshades, the sofa -

Greg pinned her down on the sofa, pressing his heavy body against hers. She naively imagined sex to be pleasurable, soft and thoughtful. But with Greg it was rough, painful and careless .

"You're hurting me." She whimpered, trying to push his body off. He locked his hands around her wrists, pushing himself into her. He leaned over to hiss in her ear.

"Shut up, you fucking whore."

The trophies, the ornaments, the pictures- those awful pictures. Forced smiles. Stiff bodies. Frightened eyes.

"Just smile, babe." He laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair out of the blonde's sad eyes. He rose his camera phone.

Sam shook her head, "I'm not in the mood to smile,"

"I want to show my pals a photograph of you." he grinned, ignoring Sam's shiver. She known he didn't want just a smile. He wanted her to show much more than her smile.

"I don't feel like it, why not later?"

He grabbed Sam by the chin, at first it was gentle, but he slowly squeezed his thumb and index finger. Sam's jaw quickly began to ache with the pressure. She felt like her jaw was going to break.

"I said smile."

The curtains, the T.V, the empty bottles of alcohol-

"Where you-u go-oin'?" he slurred, he drained the last bit of liquid in his bottle.

"Work." Sam grunted, pulling her coat on, "Someone has to earn money in this house."

His slow mind tried to think of a reply. But Sam was already opening the front door.

His mouth couldn't conjure a response fast enough so he threw his bottle at her.

The walls, the windows, the ceiling-

Sam sat curled up in the chair, the ceiling creaked by Gregs footsteps above. She sobbed quietly, praying that he won't come down the stairs.

Every memory of him was written everywhere. And every single memory made her sick. She couldn't stand looking around the room much longer, she finally allowed her gaze to land on those brown eyes.

Those soft, innocent eyes, that filled with concern and care. Those brown eyes that Sam envied so much. Pure eyes. Undamaged eyes. Sam wanted to have eyes like that so badly.

"Sam?" he said gently. Oh, his voice was like a soft lullaby. It held as much care as a lover. His voice always sent shivers down her spine. She could listen to that voice forever, feeling safe hearing every syllable.

He stroked her shoulder, the soft touch was alien to Sam, she felt her muscles tighten but immediately relax as she listened to that beautiful voice.

"Everything's going to be fine, Sam, I'm going to get you out of here."

She didn't understand the words, but nodded. Not wanting to break the rhythm of his words that blossomed from his mouth.

"First, you're going to pack. Then I'll take you back to the hotel I'm staying at."

Sam finally understood the voice, and immediately felt the safety drain from her.

"No." she whispered, "I can't."

"Of cause you can," Freddie said softly, Sam broke away from his touch. She stood up.

"Get out." She said firmly, hating herself for pushing the beautiful man away.

"No. Not unless you come with me." Freddie frowned, raising out of the chair, "I'm not leaving you, Sam, not with this fucking bastard!" He tried to hold Sam's hand, his touch caused Sam to jerk away from him. She took a few steps back, her eyes wide with fear.

"My god, Sam, you can trust me. Please…" He said gently, "I won't hurt you."

"No. You don't understand. I have to stay." Sam murmured.

"Why?" Freddie asked.

Sam looked at the floor, her lips pressed tightly together.

"Sam," he said slowly, fear leaking in every word, "Why are you still with this son of a bitch?"

Tears dripped from Sam's face to the floor. It splashed soundlessly as her lips moved. She imagined his disgusted expression as the words tumbled from her lips. She couldn't bare to look up at him, his black polished shoes and the striped trousers stepped into her eyesight.

She felt his arms embrace her.

"Oh, Sam." he croaked, stroking Sam's hair.

"I have to stay. I have to." She said hoarsely,

"I'm carrying his baby."