[If anyone has seen the deleted scenes, then this will follow it somewhat for now. But in the next chapter, it will most certainly spin the story away into its own path. For now, here is chapter 2. Enjoy.]

CHAPTER 2

"Where is Jim!" Grace demanded.

John could see by the frustrated look in her eyes and the way they kept shifting to the door behind him, she was trying to seize the chance of getting him distracted by the question, but he kept his arms spread, teasing her by making a fake lunge. She shrieked and stumbled over one of her discarded boots, beside the beside table. She quickly moved to slip both of them on. All the while, her eyes never leaving his.

"You're asking now? You didn't look that bothered when I barged in here all guns blazing and you just snored."

He relaxed his position.

It would be too easy just to manhandle her onto the bed and rape her. She was beginning to wield a soft spot inside him though , and part of it scared the shit out of him. "Maybe you should look for yourself. If you can."

"Oh, you 'd love me to challenge you, you sack of shit."

He smiled again. That cruel, sick smile, that meant the answer to her question would indeed be unpleasant.

Why'd we pick the most predictable motel in the middle of nowhere? Why didn't we just keep running! She thought angrily to herself.

Blaming Jim would have been easy, but she knew that running, they would of got even more lost, or got run over, or.. Died.

"Why are you doing this to us?" She bawled, still highly emotional from everything that had been happening in the past two days. "We've done nothing wrong!"

"You threw me out of your car."

"You pulled a knife on us-"

"Your boyfriend only had to say four puny words and he couldn't even do that. Them four words was all I wanted. I would of let you go off into the sunset if he had abided by them."

Grace went to make a dive along the wall, but he was too quick and slammed his palm against it, chuckling. "You mean Jim would had to practically sign his own death warrant rather than let all these people die! All because of your sick mind games!"

"The cogs are turning faster now, aren't they? I'm not to blame for all this. Jim is."

"Fuck! You!" She screamed, anger fuelling over all her over senses as she ploughed her entire weight into him and shoved him back onto the bed. Well, that's what she planned it to happen, but his strength of balance kept him rooted, and only made him stumble a little.

It was all Grace needed to race to the front door.

Locked.

She tackled the other door to her right, without hesitation and fell with the door to the floor.

"HEELLP!OHMYGOD!"

The two previous occupants of the room next door were sprawled on the mattress in the most grotesque of positions, completely naked. A rather overweight male was bathed in blood and muscle, straddling and laid across the body of a quite slender female, her throat slit down the jugular with the knife still wedged inside and her hair matted with blood and blonde. Grace gasped. And with fingers like springs, scrambled back onto her feet as John stepped on the other end of the fallen door. He didn't even look at his handy work and kept his eyes firmly focused on Grace herself, shaking involuntarily from the shock.

And again, she fled. Luckily, the entrance was left wide open for her to escape.

Outside, it was easier to breathe. The absence of death, felt good. She felt cleaner.

"What's the plan now?" John taunted, spinning the knife between his fingers which had been in the corpse a few seconds before.

"SOMEBODY HELP!"

"Help!" John shouted, with absolutely no enthusiasm at all. "Please. He's trying to kill me."

Grace glared furiously at him, and followed his nodding gesture over to the receptionist, sitting low at the front desk. The top of his head just visible above the counter. "Maybe he might help." He grinned.