I'm really happy to hear there are still many bethyl fans out there!:) Sorry for the wait, i really hope you guys enjoy this second chapter.

Please review! it keeps me motivated!

Who's that shadow holding me hostage?

I've been here for days.

Who's this whisper telling me,

that i'm never gonna get away?

-Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter 2

Images, faces, memories, flashed across her mind.

Her mother packing her bag, her parting kiss, watching her drive away for the last time.

Maggie sticking up for her in the playground, beating down anyone who dared hurt her, fighting the battles she was never strong or brave enough to fight herself.

Her father's beaming face when she graduated high school. The few proud tears that threatened to escape his kind loving eyes.

Wasn't your life meant to flash across your eyes seconds before you die? If that was true, what was happening to her now? Was this death? Reliving memory after memory, never having the control to change anything? Was this hell?

A collage of images became spinning around in her head. Strangely the spinning motion made her think of a merry-go-round, going faster and faster to the point where she was sure to be flung off.

"Merle, She's waking up."-said a low, raspy voice-

"She ain't my problem. You brought her into this."-came the slightly higher pitched voice "You deal with it."

The sound of a door being slammed finally broke her free of the consuming darkness.

Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring at a white ceiling. She squinted her eyes against the dull lighting, slightly wincing when her head began to pound, and began to unconsciously brush her fingers against the hard floor. She froze when her fingers came in contact with a smooth sleek material. She shot up into a sitting position and looked down to see that she was sitting on a leather jacket.

Immediately she began to scan her surroundings in a panic, she was in a small, barely lit room; the walls were painted a dull, faded grey, the same shade of grey as the hard cement floor she sat upon. The only furniture consisted of a small wooden table with a mix match set of chairs.

Where in the world was she?

Her eyes continued to make their journey across the room until they fell upon a tall figure in the far corner of the room, near the door.

Little by little, memories came crashing down upon her.

Her horrible day at the firm.

Her long daily run.

The alley way.

The two men with the gun.

The dead body.

The gun pointed at her head.

Oh god. Oh god! Her eyes grew wide in fear and she scrambled as far away from the figure as she could until she was pressed against the wall, shaking in utter terror.

Slowly the man came out from the shadows with his hands up at his sides, indicating that he had no weapons, she presumed, but the fact that his hands were empty did nothing to soothe her. This man could kill her easily without any weapons at all, that much was painfully obvious. He looked to be well past six feet, with a heavyset built.

In the dull lighting she could hardly make out his features, but even from across the room she could tell he had a strong jaw line, shaggy dark hair, and was probably in his early to mid-treaties.

"I'm not going to hurt you." -he told her gently.

Before she could stop herself a hysteric bubble of laughter escaped her lips, she buried her face in her hands, shaking her head in disbelief.

The man cautiously took a few steps towards her which caused her head to shoot up in panic.

"Stay back!" -she shouted-

He paused at the sound of her voice, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I told you I ain't gonna hurt you."

"Then let me go."-her voice came off more as a whimper than anything else.

He took a few steps away from her as if stung.

"I can't."-came his low reply-"At least not now."

At his words, her eyes watered and a few tears slid down her already wet cheeks. She buried her face in her hands once more.

The door to the small room abruptly swung open and a man walked in.

"Well, well, well, looks like sleeping beauty is awake."

She slowly looked up, and gave the man a hate filled glare, which caused him to throw back his head in laughter.

"Looks like she's got some fire after all."

The cruel older man came to stand directly in front of her and crouched down so that he was eye levelled with her; she stiffened and tried to lean away.

"You best not do anything stupid." -there was now a threatening edge to his voice.

"Merle."-came a growling voice from behind them.

He shot up to his feet and hit his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"Where are my manners?"-he said in a mocking voice.

"I'm Merle and behind this is my baby brother, Daryl."

He flashed her a grin and held out his hand. She stared at his outstretched hand in fear, remembering when the very same hand had held a gun to her head.

After a few seconds had passed, he brought his hand to his side, and crouched down once more.

"This is the part where you tell me your name."

When she gave him no reply, both of his hands came crashing down on either side of her head, which caused her to jump in alarm.

"What's your name?"-he slowly asked again-

The tears had yet again returned. "B-beth."

He smiled and stood back up.

"I think I prefer sleeping beauty."

Beth sat in one of the mix matched set of chairs in the room. She had her legs curled up to her chest and was thankful that presently she was alone.

She finally had a small moment to herself to sort through her troubled thoughts. To calm down, or at least attempt to slow down her racing heart. She needed to determine her next course of action with a rational mind. One of her strong suits has always been her keen sense of organization, her ability to categorize practically everything.

And just like any overly organized person would do,

She was going to form a detailed plan, an escape plan.

Beth could no longer be the frightened little girl depending on her older sister to defend her. She was on her own and the only one she could rely on now was herself.

She was going to fight to stay alive and find a way out of this hell; she had too much to live for! She would not allow herself to get crippled with fear.

She would not allow either of these two men to decide her fate,

She would find a crack in their armour eventually and when she did,

She would strike.

I hope you like it, review for more!

-Claudia