Disclaimer: I only own Emily
Warning: Rated M, for abuse and adult content.
Feedback: A little constructive feedback would be nice. For my new readers, I hope you enjoy and for those of you who read the old version, I do hope you like this one better. Please let me know.
**This takes place before Red Canyon because otherwise things get far too confusing. So, Enjoy!
It's been a wonderful ride. Thanks everyone for your support. This is the last chapter.

And intoxicating mixture of fear and pleasure tingled over every inch of her battered form. She was possessed by the lust, Mac had ignited in her belly. It was what gave him control over her and the only other weapon he knew how to use. The fear she felt had come in one form and slowly morphed with his absence. As she looked around the basement she became aware, as if waking from a dream, he planned to eventually kill her. She meant nothing to him. Was this it? Was this how her story ends? If she let it end this way she could only blame herself. In her pathetic broken state, she had practically chained herself up and now as she looked down at her naked body, she felt disgust. This was not her last stand. Hell, she wasn't even standing. Even if this place was the very place she was meant to die, she was going out on her feet. She did not want to die lying on her back beneath him. 'He can hurt you and he will at any given moment. Are you making a final decision?' Emily nodded to herself.

The pain from her wrists had spread down through her shoulders, coming to rest at the center of her back. She rolled her neck, cracking it before slowly inhaling. The smell of old smoke, wood and draino filled her nose. In one corner of the room she spotted a box with what looked like clothes, she at least might be able to find one of his old jump suits. There were several empty whiskey bottles scattered around and a kerosene can in the corner. She had made up her mind now, she would die before she let him touch her again. No matter now much pain he caused her, she would keep fighting until there was nothing left of her.

Emily wrapped her hands around the hook and pulled herself up slowly. Her body was weak from hanging in this position for so long, so she grunted as she began to pull. The chains were hooked good, she would have to pull up higher if she wished to get free. She reached with one shaky hand and grabbed the top of the hook, digging the chain into the flesh of her wrists. With teeth grit she held herself with one hand, sliding the chain off the hook with the other. Then she let go, dropping to the floor on her knees. She could still feel the disgusting sticky feeling between her thighs. Mac be damned, Emily would take a proper shower and then give him a proper ass kicking. She could not wait to slam her fist into the side of his jaw and hear it crack. Slowly, she stood and examined the chains on her wrists. There was a masterlock holding them together but she was almost certain that there was something in the basement she could use to break it. It wasn't a new lock anyhow, a good hit would do it.

On the wall above the work bench she located a hammer. Emily shuffled over (every joint cracking as she went) and plucked the hammer off the wall. Then she positioned the lock on the counter so she could hit it. The first hit loosened it and the second one jolted the bar loose. Emily let go of the hammer and yanked on the lock until it snapped open. Her bindings fell to the floor, clattering in a metallic heap, the sound echoed through the room. Emily rubbed the flesh on her wrists before picking up the hammer and examining it. A smile slowly spread across her face before she set it down and headed for the box in the corner. As she shuffled through it, she realized there was a mixture of women's clothes in it. Almost as if he had kept them for trophies. 'Bastard.' Emily plucked a pair of black panties, a black bra, black shirt, black pants with a plethora of zippers on them and knee high boots. The outfit seemed befitting, death wore black, so should she. Of course she did not know how clean any of the clothes were. 'To hell with a shower.' She slipped into the clothes before grabbing up all the tools she would need.

Emily grabbed four empty bottles, a couple of rags and the kerosene can. She dropped them on the work bench. Then she filled the bottles half full of kerosene before ripping the rags and dropping one end into them. All she needed now was a lighter. A quick spin of the room told her there was no lighter in sight. So she grabbed the bottles by their necks, slid the handle of the hammer in a belt loop and headed up stairs. The door was still locked from the outside but the door frame was so rotted, that one good hit would open it. Emily braced her back on one wall and slammed her foot into the door handle. There was a resounding crack and pieces of wood flew every where as the door flew open. Emily stepped into the kitchen and found a zippo with his cigarettes on the counter. Mac was near by some where. 'To hell with him.' For a few moments she only stared at the cigarettes. It had been a long time since she lit up. Then she spotted the half full bottle of whiskey on the opposite counter. 'What the hell. Why not?' Emily set her bottles down, grabbed the whiskey and took a healthy gulp. The toxic fire burned its way down and hit her stomach like a pile of bricks. She set it down, grabbed one of his cigarettes, popped it in her mouth and lit it.

Her first drag was heavenly, she felt that familiar tightness in her chest, her head spun a little but she loved the sensations over taking her. Emily licked her lips, tasting that dull bitter taste of tobacco and nearly purred. Shoving his pack into her pocket, she picked up a bottle and lit the rag, throwing it into the basement. The glass shattered as it hit the wooden stairs and the liquid fire spread quickly down them. She smoked as she watched the fire consume the basement. The flames crawled across the basement, their orange red anger reflected in her eyes giving physical expression to her own internal rage. That internal rage was more apathetic than the psychotic fury she had exhibited before. Now she moved calmly as she stepped out of the house, the flames climbing furiously higher. Darkness now blanketed the Utah desert. It seemed rather befitting for what was about to transpire. She flicked her spent cigarette off into the distance and headed for the only other place she knew he would be, the cave.

The bottles clanked together as she moved ever closer to the cavern where he had shamelessly raped her. She still needed to get a gun so she could blow Harley's kneecaps out. The thought of doing that only made her smile. 'Wonder if Mac would be pissed off if he knew I took his cigarettes.' It was a random thought that entered her mind as she made her way through the desert. When she arrived at the cave, she found that the truck was not parked outside, which meant they were probably at Walter's. Too bad for their meth lab. With all the chemicals in that place, it would blow once the cocktail hit the cave floor. That of course would really piss off Walter, he probably would end up taking that out on Mac. She grinned to herself when she realized this. Besides that, it was entirely too much fun to make them mad, even if they did beat her for it. So, she wanted to go out with a bang and in the most literal sense, that was fine. At least someone would know something happened to her and Mac would have to deal with them later. Even if he killed her, maybe she would cause them so much trouble that they would think twice about letting him have another plaything.

Emily stepped just inside the cave entrance and rolled the wheel of the lighter across her pants. The flint sparked, the flame caught the wick and she lit one rag. Passing it to her free hand, she hurled it into the dark, snatched up her other bottled and ran like hell. There was an explosion which jolted her forward out of the cave. She landed on her knees, dropping the lighter but saving the bottles. They had to hear the noise, especially in the canyon. Emily grabbed everything and ran for the shelter of the shadows. A familiar roar could be heard in the distance and she knew he would be furious when he saw the damage she'd done. Besides all that, she had a few other places she wanted to hit. That or she could settle for molotov cock-tailing Harley's cruiser. That could be a lot more fun than just setting a few buildings on fire. She was about a mile or so down the road and well hidden when she spotted the red and blue lights. Emily set her final bottle down beside her and crouched behind a large rock. To be honest she really had no set plans for the last two. She just really enjoyed burning their things. And who doesn't find the sound of glass breaking, satisfying?

She lit the rag and tossed the bottle on the hood of the cop car. It shattered, blanketing the vehicle in colors of deep orange. The vehicle screeched to a halt and before he could emerge, she tossed the other one on his trunk. Harley had only seconds to jump away before the car exploded with an earth shaking fury. Now was her chance to get what she needed from him. Emily leapt over the rock, around the car and slammed the hammer she had, into the underside of his jaw. His teeth cracked as they clapped together and blood dripped from his mouth. That still was not enough to quell her anger. She yanked his .44 from his holster and used her boot to roll him over. Then, with gun pointed, she popped a cigarette in her mouth and lit it. He stared up at her with eyes full of pain and fury.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt? You don't know pain Harley, let me enlighten you. How about I break your jaw, ribs, ankle and slice through the flesh in your upper thigh? No? Then maybe I should beat you with a chain and then rape you afterwards. That motherfucker is pain."

He spit blood onto the sand beside him. She took a drag of her cigarette before slamming her boot into his groin. Harley gasped in pain, cupping him self before curling into the fetal position. Emily had no more time to waste on him. She stepped on one of his ankles, pinning his leg sideways before firing one round into his knee. The concussive blast made her ears ring, her screamed in pain and blood poured from his leg. He might still walk again, or maybe not. She really could care less about his health. Suddenly, she was lit by floodlights but she didn't panic. Emily raised her gun and aimed for the drivers side. She exhaled smoke from her lungs as she stared at the windshield. When Mac did not back off, she fired one round and shot out the left floodlight. The truck finally jolted backwards, backing away from her and she turned her attention back to Harley. She crouched down to his level, cigarette still in her mouth and placed her hand on his wound before beginning to speak.

"Where's the police station?"

When he refused to answer her, she dug her thumb into the hole. He cried out in pain and his whole body writhed against the assault.

"Aahh, fuck y-" She dug harder. "All right!"

"All right what?"

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you."

"Speak!"

"It's a mile down the main road. Head south. There's a little narrow dirt road, unmarked. Take that half a mile and it's on your right."

A coyote howled in the distance, drawing her attention momentarily away from Harley. As she stared off into the darkness (gun still aimed at his face), she could swear she saw the glow of a cigarette. That was fine, he could watch from the dark. It was funny how she had never noticed the beauty of the stars in the sky until now. She might miss that about Utah. Although she had only now noticed them, so maybe not. There was a sound beneath her and she realized he was reaching for his pocket. Emily never gave her actions a second thought, she slammed her boot into his temple and watched him collapse on the ground. Then she began the process of patting him down and trying to figure out what he had been reaching for. In his right pocket she found an old flip phone. So she took up the hammer and smashed the phone into a million tiny pieces. She threw it into the burning remains of the cruiser that was only twenty feet from her. The flames helped to keep her warm in the cool night but there was not time for comfort. She finally moved away from Harley and headed in the direction of the station.

With every passing moment she grew more anxious over the possibility of true freedom. Mac now knew she wouldn't hesitate to shoot at him or even kill him if she had the chance. Hell, she shot an officer (bad one) of the law and blew up his car. She hoped he would tell Walter, maybe they would finally understand she was not playing games. It took her nearly forty minutes to walk to the station. By the time she arrived there were blisters on her feet, her legs hurt and she was shivering from the cold. As she stood looking at the small brick building, she wondered to herself 'just what in the hell do you plan to do here?' One thing she knew, cop cars have a lot of speed and puncture proof tires. Even if they wanted to run a spike strip, there would be no stopping her in one of those cars. So she planned to steal a cop car. She snuck through the lot and tired one of the driver's side doors on one of the four cars in the lot. To her surprise, it was unlocked but of course there were no keys in the car. Not that she thought there would be. But she had no screwdriver this time and she did not know how to hot-wire a car. Or if it was possible to hot-wire a cop car. Her only option was to sneak into the station and take the keys from whoever happened to be there.

Emily grabbed the shotgun from between the seats before tucking the pistol in her waist band, cocking the rifle and heading toward the door. She also planned to grab more ammunition. 'Bet they never thought you'd be so bold.' That was exactly why she decided to come to this place. The door was not typical of a police station, it was a screen door, just like the Luna Mesa. 'This place really is red neck.' It creaked when she opened it and slipped inside. There was no one around as she made her way behind the counter where she had spotted the box of keys hanging on the wall. Unsure about what keys belonged to which car, she grabbed them all. As she spun around to leave, she spotted the gun cabinet on the wall adjacent to her and through its glass she spotted shot gun ammo. Emily crept to the cabinet and snuck more shells into her pockets. When they were full, she snuck back out of the station.

Suddenly she was blinded by one floodlight and two glaring truck lights. Without hesitation, she aimed the rifle at the windshield and pulled the trigger. A round of buck shot peppered the glass and the hood of the truck. Mac revved the engine as a challenge to her, apparently she had failed to hit the bastard. That was all right, she had plenty more buck shot where that came from and she still had four in the chamber. So she cocked the gun again and this time fired into the engine.

"Fuck you Mac!" She screamed in fury.

The truck suddenly surged forward toward her and she leapt out of the way, letting it slam into the building. It collided with an ear shattering sound as the metal crunched, the glass of the lights shattered, bricks of the building shifted and the entire rear of the truck bucked forward before the rear tires finally hit the ground. For a second she could only sit in the dirt, staring at the heap of metal and panting. The radiator hissed and smoke poured from beneath the hood.

"He tried to hit me. The bastard actually tried to kill me."

Emily braced her back against the building as she slowly stood, gun still clutched in her right hand. She never took her eyes from the truck as she cocked the gun again, its spent casing bounced into the dirt with a hollow plastic sound and she headed for the drivers side door. Then she yanked it open and aimed the gun at his unconscious head that was resting on the back of the seat. A tendril of blood ran down from his forehead and shards of glass were visible in his flesh. Emily poked him with the barrel of the gun until she was sure he was not moving. Ever so carefully, she moved around the ball of metal and headed for the unmanned cop cars. She set her gun back in the car she had taken it from before shuffling through the keys until she found the right one. For a moment she leaned back in her seat and stared at the other cars. Mac probably could and would hot-wire one of them, that wouldn't work for her. Grabbing the shot gun she went around blowing holes in gas tanks of each one. She knew that they would not explode from the puncture in their gas tanks. In that moment she had an even better idea and she bolted for Mac's truck. It took her a moment but eventually she found what she was looking for, his other lighter and his unbroken whiskey bottle. She twisted the cap off and poured a line of whiskey from one gas tank to another. Then she jumped into her car and as she drove away she threw the flaming lighter into the whiskey puddle. Emily kicked up dust as she tore ass out of the lot.

The dust cloud did not hide the explosion and the sound rattled her windows. Even as she fish-tailed onto the main drag, slamming the accelerator to the floor, she could see the flames. A satisfied smirk crossed her face.

"Let's see them catch me now."

They did try to stop her at the city limits. There was a road block, consisting of Walter's truck and two guns pointed at her. Instead of stopping she pressed the accelerator all the way down and when they realized she was not stopping, they began to fire at the car. Emily pulled her .44, firing out the window as she ran at one hundred miles an hour. One shot hit Harley's shoulder and another hit Walter in the left leg. She was going so fast, they barely had time to jump out of the way before she swerved around the truck and flew by them. At this speed she would be over the state line before they even reached the truck. A smile spread across her lips when she saw the two figures limping to the truck, clearly cursing themselves for their failures. Emily cracked the window and lit a celebratory cigarette. She was finally free and in her freedom she found that her smoke had never tasted so good. The question still remained, how could she go back home and resume a normal life? The answer was simple. she couldn't.

Emily drove until she could no longer keep awake and then after some sleep, she drove until she needed gas. Thank goodness for the full gas can in the trunk, although it was a little strange that it was completely full. After those few stops, it was straight home.

-
New York

Before her 'vacation' she would have been a lot more civil to the people at her publisher's office, not anymore. She marched through the door, knowing she looked like hell but not caring. The little blonde receptionist tried to stop her.

"Emily you can't go back there. Mr. Furlongs in a meeting."

The receptionist stood as she said that, perhaps intending to stop her. Emily shot her a hard sideways glance and pointed at her chair.

"Sit." She commanded.

The little woman sank slowly back down to her chair and began to dial a number. Suddenly the phone was yanked from the desk and thrown against the wall. It busted into tiny plastic pieces, falling to the floor in a heap of junk.

"Don't do that."

She only nodded. Emily pushed through the double doors and headed for the large office at tis end. Through the wooden door, she could hear Jack on the phone selling more lies to another writer. She burst through the door with a loud shout.

"Jack you son of a bitch!"

"Lemme call you back."

He said to his clint on the phone before turning to her.

"Emily how was-"

He went quiet when she slid over to the desk and slammed her fist into his face.

"My vacation Jack?! Is that what you were going to ask?!"

He spit blood onto the floor and dabbed at his mouth.

"Well-"

"Shut up! Did you not notice its been over a month?! Why did no one come check on me?! Huh?!"

"I just thought you were having fun."

"Fun?! Are you fucking kidding me? Let me tell you about my fun."

She grabbed him by his tie and pulled him face to face.

"Look at me! My jaw is broken Jack!"

"I-I didn't know."

"Didn't know what Jack?! That I'd be raped and beaten. That I would be cut and thrown around. Or that someone asshole would try to kill me?!"

At last she did what she'd been wanting to do for a long time. She picked up the desk lamp and slammed it into the side of his face, knocking him unconscious. As she stepped over his unconscious body she spoke.

"Ya know what," She pulled her cigarettes out, grabbing one with her teeth. "forget you Jack. I'll take my business elsewhere."

It was nearly afternoon when she stepped out onto the sidewalk and lit her cigarette. A new sensation filled her body now. A mix of happiness and complete freedom. Everything that had happened to her was horrible but it changed parts of her in a good way. The smell of exhaust, dirty garbage and grease from the street vendors, filled her nostrils. Some where a siren cried out among the blaring car horns. It was good to be home. She turned on her heels and headed for her apartment. Her land lord would let her in and understand her rent being late.

Two weeks later her book Country Hell had become a best seller. The revisions she had done to it helped. Eventually life resumed its normla pace and she left Mac where he belonged..in Utah.