Gah, you guys I'm sorry for the long wait again, but my internet keeps getting shut off, and I've had college applications to work on which have been an absolute terror. Thank you for you patience, except you, Demee. Your bothering has definitely been incentive to get this up. See, I write during free time in class, but I can never get them typed up and online in time. Enjoy the next chapter and as always, review!

I feel my wings have broken in your hands
I feel the words unspoken inside
When they pull you under

And I would give you anything you want, no
You were all I wanted and all my dreams are fallin' down
Crawlin' 'round, 'round and 'round

Somebody, save me
Let your warm hands break right through me
Somebody, save me
I don't care how you do it

Just stay, stay, come on
I've been waiting for you

~Somebody Save Me by Remy Zero

It was the door that told him something was wrong. It wasn't just unlocked- it was ajar. Adrian's investigation required entering which he did once his knocking went unanswered.

The first room was the den/foyer- just a worn out couch, a few picture frames and a standard color television. Still, it was clean and appropriately decorated for a single, working-class woman.

"Jack?" he called out in the dim hope she would walk out and greet him with that impish smile he'd grown fond of. But all he got was a small swat to the ankle. Looking down, he found that the offender was a Maine Coon cat, who mewled at him urgently. Lucifer, he assumed, was hungry if Jack's absence had been for more than a day.

In the kitchen he discovered a few cans of wet cat food and offered one to the starving feline who greedily accepted. It was possible she had only forgotten he was coming and gone out somewhere without securely locking her door- she was a bit absent-minded after all- and the only thing out of the ordinary was the door. Then again, this was New York City- crime wasn't exactly rare here.

Now Adrian wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but every instinct was on high alert as the apartment's eerie silence only intensified his uneasiness. If his suspicions were indeed plausible, then further investigation was required.

He rooted through her cabinets until he found a copy of a phonebook and began to search for once number in particular: Giraldi's. He dialed and waited until an older man with a mild Italian accent answered on the third ring.

Adrian only asked if Jack was at work that day. The man replied no, it was her day off and that he had not seen her since last evening.

"Would you happen to know where she might be now?" Adrian asked, rubbing his jaw.

"If I had to guess, I'd say she's at home."

"Was she in any distress when she left work yesterday?"

"Not in the least. She practically skipped out the door. I never woulda thought she'd get so excited over someone else's misfortune."

"Misfortune?"

"Yeah, had to let somebody go yesterday. Guess the two didn't get along. Funny, she never said anything about it to me."

"Was it Alexis Petrov?" Adrian asked, dangerously quiet.

"Yep, that's the one. Say, who is this anyway?"

"A concerned friend. Thank you for your time."

His hang hovered over the phone for only a second as he rapidly thought out his next move, then proceeded to make another call.

"Chelsea? This is Adrian. I want all the information on Alexis Petrv, and I need it one my desk within the next half hour."

"…Alexis Petrov?" she repeated uncertainly.

"I assume you knew her from school?"

"God, I wish I didn't. The stories I could tell you about that freak-and-a-half."

"You may just have to share them. Half hour."

He considered taking the cat with him for safekeeping but decided against it, remembering its namesake matched its mood. If need be, he would send for someone to care for it later.

Adrian quickly left the building where his chauffeur was waiting patiently for him outside the car, cigarette in hand.

"Leaving already sir?" he asked, hurriedly extinguishing the cigarette on the pavement to open the side door for his employer.

"Something I forgot at the office." Adrian climbed into the back seat and frowned disapprovingly at the remaining tobacco product that had been abandoned on the sidewalk. "Don't leave that there."

XxXxXxX

"Did you like the gifts I sent you? I didn't know what flowers you'd prefer, but everyone likes roses, as clichéd as they might be." The voice said happily. "I thought the lilies would complement the décor in your apartment. They'd look so pretty in your auburn hair too. Well, you'd be pretty if you wore a potato sack, but you know what I mean."

I was too terrified to respond to the revolting compliments, and I knew it was going to be difficult to repress my sarcasm. Being a smart-ass was dangerous and was liable to get me killed as a result.

"I-I need water… please." I rasped, barely managing to keep my voice form trembling. It was still unnerving not to be able to see my kidnapper's face, and it took all I had to keep my very thoughts straight; it was getting harder and harder each passing minute.

The voice chuckled. "Of course! I bet you're hungry too! You've been asleep for such a long time now! Gimme a second and I'll get you a glass."

Whatever I was lying on, a bed, most likely, shifted its weight, and I knew the stranger had stepped away. I tried to sit up, but I could barely lift my head. Frustrated and disheartened by my immobility, hot tears welled up and trickled down my face, dripping off my earlobe.

No, you can't do that here, I scolded myself, forcing back the waterworks. Dammit, Jack! Grow a pair, would ya?

The stranger soon returned to my side, propping my head up with something soft. "Here, drink." He commanded and pressed something cool to my lips.

I accepted the gift and drank. Tap water soothed my raw throat and I grunted to signal the stranger to stop the flow.

"I know it's not much, but you need to eat."

Not on your life, Sport, I thought and clamped my mouth shut.

"Oh come on, it's just soup. Open up now."

Whatever it is, you probably spit in it.

"If you don't eat what I give you, you don't eat at all." He threatened. "Open. Your. Mouth."

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I opened up for survival's sake and reluctantly ate the lukewarm chicken noodle soup. It was atrocious- dry chicken, entirely too much salt, and the so-called noodles practically disintegrated in my mouth.

Combined with the psychedelic swirling of my surroundings I became nauseated at the thought of another bite. Bile rose to my throat and I was sick all down my front, unable to hold back the meal.

"Oh, that's real fucking nice, Jack." The stranger spat, slamming down the bowl.

I winced, expecting him to continue yelling or even smack me across the face, but only a short, suspicious silence followed.

Finally: "Stay put."

And go where, moron?

The stranger left me, and after a moment I heard water running from another room. Great, now what the hell was ths guy up to?

"Oh, Jack." The stranger called in a sick, sweet, seductive voice. "Time for your bath."

"No!" I rasped. "No, no, don't you touch me." My heart pounded in terror, and I could barely lift a finger. Despite my weak protests, he lifted me up with a grunt and slowly carried me to the bathroom.

"Don't be shy, Jack." He said, peeling off my filthy shirt. "This is going to happen about every other day, so we might as well get this out of the way."

My bra was gone next, and then my work pants and underwear till there was nothing left. He left me lying there on the freezing bathroom floor, dreading what was coming next.

"Nice and hot. In you go." He lowered my limp body into the water and sat me up against the tiled wall.

Please, I thought, Please no more. I held my breath and bit back tears as roaming hands washed every inch of me.

Helpless, I shut my eyes and prayed as I waited for the humiliation to end.