A/N:

Great response. You guys are awesome for supporting this. Let's continue on where we left off.

Beta is Lindz26. Pre-reader is MichelleMMarie—the Ernie to my Bert. She helped me so much this chapter, and I'm eternally grateful.

WARNING: this chapter might contain a disturbing scene, depending on your level of tolerance. It's not too bad in my opinion, but I thought I'd just warn anyway.

CHAPTER TWO
*You Just Had to Go Right, Didn't You?*

The path looked more like two parallel tire tracks that had withered away the grass over time, leaving only the dark earth beneath. Had that man made these with his truck? He must've driven down this path several times, if so.

My head was starting to hurt less, thank God, and I could finally think clearly. So many questions were rattling my brain as I continued to walk, looking for this "large boulder," as directed.

The question that seemed to be screaming at me was where was I? Looking around, I knew I was in some sort of forest, but I'd never seen these kinds of giant trees before.

The next question I contemplated involved the river the man said I washed up from. What had I been doing that would so coldly knock me out? There was no doubt I'd been roughed up—the scratches on my arms were proof of that—but what had led to that? And why couldn't I remember?

The fact that I was having trouble remembering something like that had my stomach knotting. I should know that, shouldn't I? To be honest, I was having a hard time remembering anything.

Frantically trying to prove to myself that I wasn't going out of my mind, I went through a sort of checklist of basic questions in my brain.

Name my job.

Okay…yeah…no clue.

Uh…what else? Car! What kind of car do I drive?

Nope. Nothing.

Alright, simpler than that. Age. I've gotta know my age.

I racked my brain…really trying to think of the answer.

23?

You can't just guess! If you're guessing, then you clearly don't know your own age.

Never mind. Name?

My name is…?

What is my name?

I couldn't believe it. I didn't even know my name. This was bad— Quick! Name a celebrity.

Brad Pitt.

Well, that was easy. So, why did I have a hard time remembering something that had nothing to do with me, but personal facts were impossible to recall? Maybe this was just a temporary thing; after all, my brain still seemed to be tired. Hopefully, by the time I got to this phone, I'd be able to think of who exactly I was supposed to call.

I'd been walking for quite some time now, and I noticed that there was no boulder. Just trees, grass, and various bushes. Everything was so green. It was quite beautiful, to be honest, and the sounds of nature only added to it.

I moved along the path, looking around. There. Next to the path, up ahead, was something gray. As I got closer, I frowned. It was a rock…not a boulder…and certainly not a large boulder. A teeny, tiny rock in comparison. He must've been mistaken. If not, something would've come up by now.

With a heavy sigh, I turned left, walking away from the path and through more trees. The sun descended toward the horizon with every step I took, causing me to quicken my pace. I didn't want to be out here, alone, while it was night time.

Several minutes went by of just trees, until I came upon a road, just like the man said. I blew out a breath of air, so grateful I hadn't been led astray. The road had two very narrow lanes with shoulders consisting of just dirt. Wow…I was somewhere far out. There weren't any establishments along the road, just more forest. And there were no cars in sight, either.

I turned right and walked along the shoulder, heading to my unknown destination. It was starting to get chilly, and I was thankful I had on this sweater.

Finally, I could see a mailbox coming up on the opposite side of the road. It was next to the start of a very long dirt driveway that was nestled inside the continuing forest. I could make out a small house at the very end. I supposed that was where I needed to go, considering there was nothing else remotely in sight.

After crossing the street, I trekked down the driveway, coming up to a one-story, white house that looked dirty and uncared for. There were various parts of rusty car frames scattered around the front lawn of the house, along with a solitary green sofa that appeared to have been sawed in half with a chainsaw.

I hadn't realized, but I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Something didn't feel right. I was hesitant to move forward, or even backward. All I could do was stare at the house.

The man had said I could make a phone call here, and he hadn't exactly been accurate about the directions, given the lack of a large boulder, but he had still helped me more than anyone might have. And even though this place looked…questionable…I was sure I could trust him.

So, with a sense of resolve, I stepped up on the rickety front porch and knocked on the door. I could hear footsteps inside come close to the door and then walk away, causing my brow to furrow.

After a minute of no answer, I knocked again. The footsteps came back and stopped. I swore I could hear breathing. Still no answer, though.

"Hello?" I called, worried.

Within a few seconds, I could hear the sound of several locks turning, and finally, the door creaked open, but only a smidgen. A dark eye appeared through the slit in the door, giving me the one-over. The chill that ran through me wasn't from the cold wind picking up.

"What?" a rough, male voice asked.

"Um, sorry to intrude," I began, trying to keep my voice even. "I was told I could use your phone."

"By who?" His tone was hard, but there was caution laced in there, as well.

"I don't really know him. That's just what I was told," I replied, and wondered if I should turn around. This couldn't be the only house on the road, but since it was beginning to get dark, this seemed to be my only option.

After a pause, the man stepped away, and the door opened further, revealing the inside of his home, which was just as much a mess as his front lawn.

"Thank you," I murmured politely, and stepped inside. As I shut the door, I noticed he was gone. Odd. But I could hear noises inside a room at the other end of the house, so I supposed he was there to give me privacy.

Looking around the living room, there were several newspaper clippings pinned to the walls. Though I was tempted to look at them, I didn't. I just wanted to place my call and then leave as quickly as I could.

There was a telephone right on the arm of a cheaply made sofa. I walked to it and picked up the handle of the very '60s retro phone. It had one of those turning dials.

I brought the receiver up to my ear and placed a finger in one of the holes. Okay, but who was I dialing? Please don't tell me I still can't remember.

It was then that I realized there wasn't even a dial tone.

A white cloth suddenly appeared in my vision and roughly covered my mouth, a strong, pungent scent filling my nostrils. I dropped the phone to the floor, made a loud, strangled noise into the cloth, and attempted to step back, but that only caused me to collide into something hard.

"Shhh, don't fight, girl," an ominous voice breathed into my ear.

I took a deep breath, gearing up to scream, but before I could, my entire system shut down on me, and then there was nothing.

X-X-X-X

Slowly, I opened my eyes, but couldn't see through the thick haze. I felt weak and groggy. My wrists were sore, entrapped by something rough. I tried to pull them to me, but they would only go so far before they'd bounce back. Blinking a few more times, my vision started to return.

I was in the center of a wrought iron bed, my wrists bound by thick ropes tied to the iron frame above my head. My first, automatic reaction was fear. Who had done this to me?

"Where the hell is it?" a deep, grainy voice murmured.

My head turned to the voice that was located in the darkest corner of the small room. There was a man hunched over a cardboard box, searching frantically through it. He looked to be in his 40s, wore a black baseball cap, and had on a gray colored flannel jacket. I couldn't see his face, but I didn't think I wanted to…especially if he was the one that put me here.

Orange light was flickering against the walls, which I realized was coming from the single candle lit on the nightstand next to the bed.

I didn't like this at all, and I knew I needed to get out of here immediately, so I tried with all my might to slip my hands through the ropes. I could feel the skin of my wrists tearing, and I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying out.

After a bit of struggling, my strength had diminished. It was no use; the ropes were too tightly bound. As a last ditch effort, I tried to yank my hands to me.

Big mistake.

The iron frame banged loudly against the wall, causing the man to halt his rummaging and whip his head to me.

Finally able to see his face, I noticed the deep lines around his eyes and mouth. At one point, he probably could've been good looking, but not anymore. He chuckled deep in his throat, showing he had several missing teeth, and stood, holding a long, flat, wooden paddle.

My breath hitched violently, my eyes going wide. "Please, just let me go," I pleaded, hoping he wasn't going to use that on me. By the looks of things, he was.

He inched toward me, like a predator stalking their prey. My breaths grew uneven with each step, terror coursing through me. His giant frame towered over my almost limp body. He brought his hand to my face and ran a single, dirty finger down my lips, chin, neck, and stopped directly in the center of my chest. I didn't move a muscle, my heart pounding loudly and moisture welling up in my eyes.

"You just shut up now," he said in a sickly sweet tone. "I promise I'll make you feel good."

He snatched his hand back and set the paddle on the bed, next to my legs. I watched as he went back to the box and began taking out item after item and setting them on the ground. He removed something that looked like a leather strap with a red ball in the center and then came back to me.

It was a gag. He was going to gag me!

"Please, don't. I swear I won't talk," I begged, pulling against the ropes again, even though I knew it was no use.

Not listening to me, he stuffed the ball in my mouth against my will and strapped the leather band around the back of my head. Tears streaked down my face, and I choked from the intrusion. I hated feeling this defenseless. I should've trusted my instincts and never came here.

"Folks 'round here call me Crazy Crowley," he murmured, more to himself than me. What a fitting name. He took a step back, his eyes roaming lustily over the expanse of my pathetically helpless body. "One year ago, a girl came to my house. She was lost and needed directions. I invited her in. A few days later, parts of her body were found in a garbage bag, floating down the river." He smiled darkly and grabbed the candle. "Police still don't know who did it." His free hand lifted the hem of my sweatshirt, revealing my bare stomach. "You look just like her." He tilted the candle over my stomach, liquid wax trickling down and searing my skin.

I cried out, my eyes squeezing shut. It was painful for a brief moment, but it quickly hardened, leaving me in more of a state of shock than anything. He was going to use me than kill me. And there was nothing I could do about it. I began to sob hard, whimpering and praying for my salvation.

"You're lucky there's no one for miles, girl," he warned, and set the candle down. "No one can hear you scream." He pointed to the paddle. "See this? This is what it'll be next if you keep makin' noise." He turned and went back to the box, pulling out more items, including a string of beads. "We're gonna have fun."

A loud crash outside the room caused us both to look toward the bedroom door.

"What the damn hell was that?" Crazy Crowley hissed to himself, throwing the beads into the box in anger.

Another crash sounded and large footsteps burrowed through the house. Someone was here. I screamed as loud as I could, hoping whoever was here would help me. I didn't care who it was. I just needed to get out of here!

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath, and began stuffing things back in his box at the speed of light. He quickly moved to me, his hands flying to the gag to undo it, but didn't get the chance to finish.

The door suddenly banged open, slamming against the wall, which caused Crazy Crowley to freeze. The silhouette of a man stood in the doorway. I whimpered, pleading for him to see me and help me. A bright light switched on in the room, and I gasped.

The man that saved me before. He was here.

He was holding a shotgun, pointed directly at Crazy Crowley. His eyes were ablaze, not even regarding me. I could see the strain in his neck, his veins popping out.

"Masen," Crazy Crowley said, and I detected a hint of fear, "there's nothing going on here—just me and my girlfriend having some fun."

I shook my head fervently. He was lying!

The man, who Crowley called Masen, pumped the gun and angled it an inch to the left. Abruptly, he fired a loud shot. The illuminated lamp on the nightstand burst and crumbled to the ground. I flinched and tried to wrangle out of the ropes.

"Jesus fucking—!" Crazy Crowley cried, covering his head with his arms.

"Untie her, Crowley, or it'll be your head next," Masen growled, and pointed the shotgun at him again.

Not wasting a second, Crowley began untying the ropes around my wrists. Once that was done, he flitted to the far side of the room, away from the bed. I brought my hands to my chest, rubbing my sore wrists. Sitting up was difficult, but I managed to with effort and swung my feet to the ground. I reached up to the back of my head, undid the gag, and tossed it to the floor.

Rage began to bubble up inside of me. I'd been completely defenseless, and if it weren't for Masen, I would've been molested then chopped up and thrown into a garbage bag.

On impulse, I wrapped my hand around the handle of the wooden paddle on the bed and stood. The coward in the corner was staring at me with wide eyes as I approached him. "Sick pervert," I seethed, swung my arm back, and crashed the paddle forward into his shoulder.

He yelled out in pain and dropped to his knees.

"Don't like that, huh?" I goaded sardonically, and attempted to whack him over the head, but I was suddenly being pulled backward by the wrist. I dropped the paddle reluctantly and spun around.

Masen was yanking me out of the room quicker than my legs could keep up. As we exited the house and entered the cold night, I couldn't take his deathly grip on my raw wrist anymore, so I yanked it out of his hold. My steps faltered as I soothed it, trying to rub the pain away.

"Goddamnit," he muttered, glaring at me, and strapped the shotgun sling over his shoulder. Suddenly, I was lifted off the ground, one of his arms hooked under my knees and another around my back.

I wanted to yell at him to put me down—I wasn't that helpless for heaven's sake—but he was moving faster than I ever could.

He sprinted down the driveway, approaching his truck that was parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. Without setting me down, he opened the passenger door and practically threw me into the seat. I yelped out in surprise at the force in which he slammed the door. He was murmuring expletives as he rounded the truck and got into the driver's side.

The engine roared to life, and the truck screeched forward as Masen slammed on the accelerator. We were burrowing down the solitary road, paying no mind to the lanes. He was deathly silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. I could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him.

He had saved me…

Again.

However, he didn't seem too happy about it.

Suddenly, his fist slammed into the dashboard, causing me to jump in my seat. "You just had to go right, didn't you?" he asked venomously, keeping his eyes on the road.

More than a little terrified of the situation I'd just come out of, I didn't respond.

"I said left! LEFT DAMNIT!" he shouted, and rubbed a hand over his face, as if exhausted.

The truck moved off the road, finding the same path I'd walked on earlier in the day…only it wasn't the same. The surroundings looked different.

Several minutes passed of silence between us. My wrists were starting to hurt less as I continued rubbing them. There would probably be marks there tomorrow.

A large boulder came into view, passing by my side. It was the one that he had described. I frowned at myself. I'd gotten the directions wrong. So, where was I supposed to end up?

The familiar cabin could be seen coming up quickly as he raced to it. I almost breathed a sigh of relief, having the same tingling feelings as someone who was going home after a long day. But I quickly caught my reaction. This wasn't my home. I wasn't welcome here, as Masen had made clear. Then…where was my home?

The truck came to an abrupt stop outside the cabin, and he shut off the engine.

"How did you find me?" I questioned curiously.

He opened his door roughly, but didn't make a move to get out. He only turned his head a fraction toward me. "You can thank Sadie," he said through gritted teeth, and then he was out of the truck. The door slammed shut, and I was left alone.

I sighed and fingered the handle of the door as I eyed him. He was already on the front porch. After disappearing inside, I noticed he left the front door wide open. Was he going to let me stay with him another night? Right now, I wasn't sure where I could go with it being so dark, so I pulled on the handle and hopped down to the ground.

That sweet, little dog of his, Sadie, came rushing out of the house to me. I smiled and squatted down. She stopped right at my bent knees and began sniffing my clothes furiously. I wondered if that was how Masen had found me. Had she sniffed out my scent?

I scratched her head. "Thank you, Sadie," I spoke quietly, and stood straight.

We both entered the cabin. A fire was lit, illuminating the living room. Masen was nowhere to be found as I shut the door behind me. But when I drew closer to the closed bedroom, I could hear a shower running. He was in there.

The larger dog was lying on the ground in front of the fire. As soon as he spotted me, he sat up and began to growl. My eyes went wide at his ferociousness. I made sure to avoid looking at him as I stood next to the bedroom door, uncertain what I should be doing.

The pipes suddenly switched off with a squeak. I pressed my ear to the door and tried to listen in on him. I felt like some sort of peeping Tom, but I couldn't help it. He'd saved me from being taken advantage of, yelled at me on the way over, then just walked into the house, giving me no acknowledgement. He confused me.

The door abruptly swung open, revealing Masen dressed in a short sleeved gray shirt and red flannel pajama pants. I gasped and took a step to the side, out of his way. His clear, green eyes were hard on me. I'd never looked properly at them, and it was unnerving that I was so captivated by them.

He had a pillow tucked under his toned arm, and I wondered briefly if that was for me, until he walked past me, threw it on the arm of the sofa, and laid down, resting his head on it. Not a word was uttered as I heard him exhale loudly.

If he would just say something…anything to me, it would help me so much. As it was, I still couldn't remember who I was, and everything I did seemed to annoy him. Then he had to go and save me from Crazy Crowley, only to ignore me and treat me as if I were a pariah.

With a deep frown, I walked into the bedroom and saw a single pillow on the bed. He'd taken the other one, but he hadn't taken the blanket. I went around the side of the bed and sat on the edge, exhausted.

If there was anything I hoped I never remembered again, it was the events of today. In a heartbeat, I would trade the disturbing memories of this day for any knowledge about myself. But as it was, that wasn't possible.

I lay down on my side, bundling myself into a tight ball. My eyes slipped shut of their own accord. Before I gave myself over to sleep, a single tear slipped from my closed eye, scared for what my life would become.

A/N:

Don't worry about Crazy Crowley. He won't go unpunished. Thanks for reading.