When the queasiness had finally eased off her eye lids had grown heavy. She was so exhausted and the drug was yet to fully leave her system, leaving her bleary and desperate for rest. It hadn't taken a lot of persuasion to get her back into bed and she'd past out as soon as her head had hit the pillow.

She awoke late the next day, disorientated and confused. But all too quickly, the horrific happenings of the last forty eight hours came flooding back to her.

She gazed around the room. She'd not really been thinking about her surroundings when Ian had ushered her inside the large bedroom, his hands hoisting her torn dress up.

The walls were cream and the furniture, black. It was sleek, modern and expensive. There was a chic dressing table on the far wall and she immediately took note of the items sitting atop of it. Her favourite products, her choice of deodorant, perfume and make-up all sat arranged neatly. She turned her head away, disturbed by his knowledge of her but instead of escaping the result of his blatant stalking, her stare met a photo frame of herself on his bedside table. She shuddered, pushing the sheets back.

There were clothes, a pair of jeans and a simple t, along with underwear, laying at the bottom of the bed.

With reluctance she dressed, she'd wear his clothes rather than have him see her naked any day.

She wasn't naive to think that her being left unattended would mean she was free to make a quick escape. She'd learnt the previous day that breaking free would garner skill and preparation and even though he wasn't in the room, baby siting her, she was positive he wasn't far. With caution she exited the room. The hall floor was cold and marbled and she couldn't prevent her feet from making a small slapping noise with every step. She paused at the staircase, peering down through the metal bars. Her stomach rumbled noisily as she inhaled the unmistakable smell of toast and eggs.

'Come on down sleepy head, I've got your breakfast on the table' His voice travelled up to her.

She hated the sudden haste in which her feet carried her to the bottom. It was wrong, she knew that but her stomach was growling and she'd not eaten anything substantial in the past two days.

Ian smiled attentively when she walked in. 'Good morning you' He rose from his chair and she cringed noticeably when he approached her, kissing her cheek and pulling her chair out politely. 'I made them just the way you like, scrambled'

She decided ignoring him and not participating in a conversation would be the best and only possible way for her to get the meal down her without vomiting through revulsion, although she was pretty certain her baby would have her vomiting in due course anyway.

He spent the rest of their breakfast talking with her, or more precisely, at her. She didn't answer his questions or remark on his comments and he let it go, acting as though she was being the most riviting of people.

She still felt hungry after, she had a big appetite at the best of times but she was feeding two right now which practically meant she was hungry all the time.

It was when he had his attention solely on his newspaper that she began to study her cutelery thoughtfully. The knife wasn't that sharp but sharp enough to do some damage if need be.

He cleared his throat distractedly and turned the page when she bravely and subtly slid it off the table and into the back of her pants.

A charge of incitement filtered through her. She was convinced that she had the upper hand, that he hadn't noticed, that he was too wrapped up in reading, so it came as a shock when he spoke without looking up from the sports section.

'Peyton put the knife back' Ian instructed calmly.

Her eyes widened.

'Now'

'I haven't-' She closed her mouth when he abruptly looked up, folding the paper and discarding it on the table.

'I don't appreciate being lied to Peyton'

She stood up, the chair screeching against the hard wood floor.

He made the four paces over to her and she cowered away.

Hastily, her shaking digits moved behind her and slipped into the waist band of her jeans, seizing the knife. She carelessly aimed it at him.

He breathed out heavily, 'I really wanted to be able to trust you, but you're making it really difficult right now'

'Get away from me'

The sharp implement jerked with her unsteady arm. Ian held his ground, appearing unfazed, he looked at his watch.

'I've got to go out in half an hour and I didn't want to have to confine you to one room' He'd had too high expectations, he realized that now. It had only been two days, this rebellious behaviour was to be expected.

He was sly and quick though and she was easily overpowered.

He pried the weapon from her bawled hand and put it back in it's rightful place.

'Have you had enough to eat?'

Her brow furrowed. His calm demeanor and nonchalance was getting tiring.

'Yes? Good, cause I really want to get going' With his hand on her lower back he directed her out of the kitchen, leading her to a door opposite the stairs.

The room was windowless and she felt like she was being led into a mental asylum. There was a bed in the far corner and a large number of books and CD's.

'I should be back by this evening'

'Where're you going?' She snarled.

'I have a few things to take care of'

'And you're leaving me in here?' She asked incredulously.

'Well when you show me that you can behave, I'll treat you with respect'

'It's not like there's anywhere for me to fucking going' She exclaimed. 'I don't have a clue where I am, we're in the middle of fucking no where'

He smiled. He was well aware of where they were. It would take her over two hours to walk to the main road if she miraculously went in the right direction and even then it was unlikely that she'd come across any cars.

'I'd just rather not waste my evening having to rescue you'

'Don't you mean kidnap?'

'No Peyton. I mean rescue. You wouldn't survive long out there by yourself, with no food or water, it would be suicide'

'Well I'd rather take my chances than be here with you'

'Which is why you are staying safely in here' He patted her cheek. 'See you later'

'What is taking so long for these results to be released?' Lucas snapped. He'd been waiting outside for the last half hour and didn't appreciate being made to wait. 'Have you found anything at all? You said it would take a minimum of a few hours. It's the next fucking day. This is time we can't afford to waste'

'Lucas we're well aware of the situation.' The inspector sighed. 'Believe me when I say, we're doing everything we can. We've just had the results in- apart from Peyton's blood, there was no other DNA traces'

Lucas had been counting on this to point them in the right direction, he'd been depending on this for a lead and suddenly it all seemed so hopeless.

She jolted upright at the sound of the lock clicking and for a brief second, her day dreaming had her optimistically hoping that she was being saved.

Of course she wasn't.

Ian smiled. 'Hey baby?' His eyes fluttered around the disorganised room. To say she'd got a little restless in his long absence was a bit of an understatement. Determination had fueled her. She'd resolutely searched the room. When she'd failed in trying to pick the lock with a plastic shard from a broken CD cover she'd become engrossed in finding a weapon in every object- from the books and CD's to a set of head phones, everything and anything became a key agent in her executing a successful getaway.

Her scheming seemed worthless in retrospect. She was going to be ready, she was going to be standing behind the door and pounce on him but she'd not heard any car, she'd had no warning that he'd returned. With him stood, tall and foreboding in the doorway, she was pretty certain she was kidding herself that she'd really had any chance.

'Well if I'd known you were just going to demolish all this stuff, I would've locked you in the basement' He kicked the broken pieces of a Coldplay CD. 'I guess it doesn't matter' He fort hard to keep his temper, here he was trying to make her as happy as can be, buying her all this materialistic shit and she was just being disrespectful. He wouldn't snap though, she was trying her hardest to get to him but he wouldn't crack, he'd break her if it was the last thing he ever did. He was going to make her his. It was all about detaching her from everything she was accustomed to, until she had nothing left that resembled the life she'd once lived, only then would she see that he was the only one that loved her.

He walked back out the room, leaving the door unlocked.

She peered through into the contrastingly bright hall way, this certainly wasn't how she'd been fantasising the day would end.

'Come on' His smiling face peeped back round the door. 'I've got something for you'

He took her into the downstairs bathroom, her stomach rapidly filling with dread.

He sat a box on the sink edge and her eyes scanned it. Hair dye.

'No' She refused directly.

'It will only take a moment'

She new it was trivial and probably not worth fighting but her hair defined her in a way. It had grown darker but was still very much blonde and it was all she'd ever known. It suited her and she liked it and more importantly, Lucas liked it that way. He always told her so.

Ian assertively took her arm, pulling her in front of the sink. She thrashed herself in the opposite direction.

'I said no'

Her restraint surprised him and it took more effort than he anticipated in getting her back in front of the basin.

'Get your fucking hands off me' She cursed coarsely.

He didn't like being spoken to like that, he didn't like her incessant contempt toward him. He pressed his entire body weight against her, trapping her and forced her head over the large washbasin, perhaps gripping the back of her neck a little harder than necessary.

She moaned softly and flinched when the cold water hit her head. She jerked impulsively but he held her steady and she wailed in displeasure.

It was an exasperating fifteen minutes, for the both of them and he got perhaps just as soaked as she did.

Her stubborn struggling finally subsided when he rinsed the dye out. She watched the dark, black tinged water swirl down the plug hole.

'All done' He announced in an overly cheerful tone. He took a step away from her, releasing his tight hold and humming nonchalantly.

She stayed, gripping the basin for a long moment before slowly standing upright, her back aching with the force in which he'd been holding her bent over.

Her sodden curls hung limply, dripping down her shirt.

'See, was it really necessary to make all that fuss?' Ian had returned with towel in hand, rubbing her hair carefully.

Her eyes bore into the mirror. The reflection staring back at her wasn't Peyton Elizabeth Scott. She didn't recognise the vacant, dark haired girl.

'I like it' He brushed a hand through it gently. 'You look more sophisticated...and sexy' He kissed her neck, his muscles contorting as his arms snaked around her waist, a successful smile curling his lips.

Lucas slammed the car door heavily. Mad, didn't quite define what he was feeling right now. It seemed liked the whole world was against him. His head was throbbing with the past hours conversations down at the station, he wasn't happy with how his wife's disappearance was being handled and he was beside himself with worry. He quickly checked the mail box out of habit, not expecting any post but finding one lone letter.

He opened the blank envelope, his breath immediately catching in his throat.

There was no uncertainty about what it was and whose it was. Peyton's silver wedding band lay cold in his hand.

He didn't know how to interpret the small item. What did it mean? Was she dead? Was it some sick and twisted way of telling him that they, whoever they was, had her? There was no ransom note.

He double checked the now empty package- there was definitely no note. He was willing there to be something more, anything. He had money, he could give them money if that's what this was about.

He looked up and down the street, optimistically looking for some obscure, suspicious looking vehicle, for some clue as to who had delivered the ring. Everything looked in order. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

He didn't understand. But what he did register, even in his fragile state of mind, was that this was meditated and beyond personal.