I didn't really remember going to sleep, but I woke up in darkness with Tate next to me, in the grimy hotel bed. I remembered him holding me on the bed and telling me everything was going to be okay soon, but after that it all becomes pretty blurry. Something was different now, though I wasn't sure if it was just the change in the hour outside. I was wide awake, though it had to be pretty late. The room smelt different to when I went to sleep. It was mustier, with a heavier, bitter scent as though someone had been smoking a few days ago and the air hadn't been changed. I wrinkled my nose, but my fingers itched for a cigarette of my own and I wondered if Tate would let me get some, or would get them for me if I wasn't allowed to leave yet. He was curled around me from behind, a loving, restraining arm around my waist like a safety belt. I wriggled a little to see if he would budge, and to my surprise he rolled off of me with a little snuffle. I stood, shaky on my legs in that all too familiar way now, and stumbled to the door, with my arms outstretched. I was met with smooth wall, all the way along to the corner.

"What?" I mumbled lightly, feeling my face scrunch up in confusion. "Where the…" The door was gone, just completely gone. This wasn't right, at all.

"Violet, what are you doing out of bed?" I spun in the general direction of the bed, eyes reeling in the dark. The bedside light flickered to life and illuminated the shadows under his eyes and jaw.

"I… was looking for the bathroom. This isn't the room we were in last night." I said it as quietly as I could, not wanting to upset him at all.

"No, this is exactly where we were last night. You mean… where do you mean?" His nose scrunched up in confusion and I felt my knees give out, sliding down the wall onto the floor and hugging my legs tight. He pulled himself off the bed and crawled over to me, and I was powerless to stop him.

"Tate… what's happening to me?" I glanced up at him, his face was softer now, almost sympathetic. Perhaps I'd imagined the menacing shadows framing his features, but I hadn't imagined the deep, bruise-like shadows under his eyes, or how sallow his cheeks were. I ghosted my fingers across his cheek and he leaned into my hand, eyes fluttering.

"Violet," he whispered.

"When did you last eat?" At the mention of food my stomach rumbled. "When did I last eat?" I hated having to ask. He smiled.

"You ate last night, don't worry. You never miss out on it Violet. Me, a bit longer. So long as you're okay though, I'm okay." His smile was stretching as he talked, and it took on a manic edge that frightened me.

"Tate… are we starving? Where are we getting the money to stay in motels from?" I asked, already sure I didn't want the answer. Tate was a wanted murderer, there's no way he had a legal job.

"You're not starving, Violet. You're fine. I'll provide for you, I'll always provide for you." His voice hardened and he knocked my knees apart, crawling further forward and pressing against me. His barely-there stomach pushed against my hip bones and I tried to force myself to flinch away from the contact like a normal person would in this situation, but I wanted him badly.

"I'm scared," I mumbled and he made a little whimpering sound.

"I don't want you to be scared. Do you like the dress I got you?" His face lit up and I glanced down at myself, noticing the stained ivory lace for the first time.

"Is this a wedding dress?" I asked, eyes in my lap. I was afraid to look at him.

"It's not just a wedding dress. It's your wedding dress. I knew you'd like it" He giggled, rocking back on his heels.

"I… it's a bit much for everyday wear, don't you think?" I asked, a little nervous.

He giggled again, leaning in to press a kiss to my jaw when I turned my head. "Don't be silly," he shook his head, moving away to stand. "You hungry?" I shook my head stiffly, feeling the tears blurring my vision. He sighed, starting up a whistling tune as he strolled into the bathroom and flicked another light switch. I took the time away from his prying eyes to examine myself more fully. I'd definitely lost weight, dangerously so. My hair was shorter, but jagged, like it had been cut by someone who had no idea. My nails were cut square across and not at all like I would have. I stared uncomprehendingly at my fingers before burning up in defiant shame at the realisation he'd done this to me. I stood up, balling my frail hands into fist and barging into the bathroom. He'd left the door ajar, standing at the mirror and splashing water on his face. I glanced at the freshly used razor beside him and thought about how easy it would be to snag it, lull him into her arms and draw it hard against his throat. I could go home, and no one would blame me. People do crazy, violent things to get away from their captors. I wrapped my arms around his bare waist, relishing in the warmth of his skin and pressing my forehead between his shoulder blades. He felt more like home than my childhood ever had. I just had to know what he was doing to me.

"Baby," I tried, and he whimpered happily at the nickname. I stroked his stomach and dipped my fingers suggestively below the waistband of his jeans. He sighed, dropping his head back and leaning into me. "I want to stay here with you, Tate."

"You… you always were," he babbled, still focused on the light brushes of my fingertips on sensitive, tightening flesh.

"I need you to stop making me forget, Tate. I want to be with you all the time, you can't make me forget days… maybe weeks of my life," I continued, trying to stop the anger and betrayal from saturating my tone.

"For your own good," he gasped as I brushed my fingers lower, feeling how hard he was.

"You hard for me, Tate?" I asked and he whimpered again, nodding frantically. "I want to be with you, so badly," I muttered seductively, before pulling my hand away from him and stepping back. He spun around, frazzled and leaning on the basin for support.

"Then be with me!" His words were a little slurred, lower lip swollen from biting down.

"I want to, Tate, I really do. But you have to be honest with me. I need to be sure of my own feelings. I can make you feel so good, Tate," he was looking down now, eyebrows pulled together. I was losing. I took a step forward and ran a hand down his chest and back up, tilting his chin up to me. "Fiancé?" I tried, and he met my gaze, beaming.

"Okay. Okay. No more weird shit." He pressed his lips to mine quickly, before shoving me back lightly out of the way and moving into the main room. I followed cautiously, staying by the bathroom door whilst he rummaged in a black duffel bag. He turned back to me, shaking a bottle of pills. "No more weird shit," he repeated, striding over and wrapping his free arm around my waist.

"Were you drugging me with those, Tate?" I asked, voice monotonous. He nodded, blushing.

"I was. But only because I love you. I didn't want anyone to take you away from me." His justification made little sense, but I knew there was something wrong with him now, he was different. I needed to fix him, and I would find a way.

"It's okay," I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his, relishing the salt of his tears against my tongue.

"I'm sorry. I wanted you to wake up when it was all safe. And you kept waking up and I didn't get the dosage right every time, and then I had to make you forget again…" He trailed, pulling away from me and pressing his forehead to the wall. "I fucked up, Violet," he smashed his head against the wall over and over. I watched, eyes wide, as he broke the skin on his forehead and continued hitting.

"Hey, hey," I yelled, pulling him away from the wall and turning him to look up.

"You didn't fuck up, okay?" I smoothed his hair out of his face and gave him the best smile I could muster. "Now I'm here, I can help you. We can get someplace safe… together. Yeah?" He nodded weakly, fresh tears falling. "You need to give me those pills though," I added, dropping my hand to stroke against his knuckles where they closed over the bottle. He nodded again, releasing his grasp and letting me take the pills.

"You forgive me?" He asked and I smiled tightly.

"Of course I do. I'm going to throw these away." I added, moving into the bathroom and away from him. I opened the bottle and poured the majority of the pills into the toilet, dropping about ten pills into my hand.

"Violet?" He called from the other room, and I jumped, glancing up and expecting to see him in the doorway. He wasn't.

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?" He called, his voice taking on a child-like, vulnerable edge. I stared down at the pills in my hand, before flushing the toilet and throwing the bottle into the trash can.

"Yes." I replied, catching a glance of my gaunt face in the mirror as I moved back into the main room to wrap myself around my benevolent captor. He rubbed his face into my neck and hair and sighed. I held him until he fell asleep, pressing myself into him and feeling the salvaged little pills against my ankle where I'd stashed them in my sock.