Emily was going crazy in her prison cell. Sure it was an opulently decorated room but it was still a prison cell. The two large windows had been bricked over. Her only human contact is with the deaf-mute woman who is careful not to communicate with gestures unless obviously commanded to.
"Where the hell am I?" Emily wonders. "Am I even in America any more? I could be in Ireland or Tuscany or anyplace he has a fucking home. Why hasn't he come back to me? Oh, God, what if he was recaptured. What if no one knows I'm here? I could die here and no one would—no, stop that, Emily. Stop thinking that way! It will do you no good."
Her self recrimination ends as the door opens and Ian walks in. Despite herself, Emily is glad to see him and she smiles.
"Hi."
He grins smugly. "Missing human interaction, are you?"
Emily shrugs. "What can I say, I'm a social butterfly."
He chuckles. And for a moment, she can see the kind, loving man behind the monster. He steps closer to her and hands her a bag.
"I have to go away for a few days. It will give you time to get this done."
She opens the bag and sees the hair dye in it. Already without the benefit of being straightened every day her natural waves were reasserting themselves. With this dye her hair, though shorter, would be more like Lauren's.
"There are also prenatal vitamins in there for you." He runs his hand over her stomach. "I need to keep my bairn healthy."
She smiles at him. "Thank you. Ian…can I go outside? I'm losing my mind in here. I need…I need sunlight. That will keep me and the baby healthy, too."
Ian stares at her a moment. He strokes a hand down her cheek. "Maybe when I get back we can revisit it. By then maybe you'll be ready to show me more of Lauren."
Emily's shoulders slump. "Please, Ian. I need fresh air."
He steps closer, lifts her hand and once again places it on his flaccid crotch. "Lauren doesn't beg, Emily."
He turns and leaves the room. In frustration, Emily throws the bag across the room. She slides to the floor, not bothering to stop her tears.