I'm just adding this note to keep the format right. Hi, everybody. Good to see you.

baby, baby, let me in
i need me some of your sweet medicine
you got the cure for what is ailin' me
and only your sweet love
can set me free
Bob Schneider, "Medicine"

That night they lay in bed together wrapped in an easy, quiet peace. They were both naked, on their stomachs, and she was lying on his back with her cheek pressed against the flat of his shoulder blade. Her skin was warm on his, her body soft, and he was half-dozing. She traced the lines and curves of his back with light fingers and he shivered.

"Tickles," he said in a sleepy voice.

"Sorry," she murmured and kissed the spot.

"S'okay. It's a nice tickle."

"Yeah?" she said. She danced her fingertips around to his ribcage. "How about here?"

He squirmed and grabbed her hand. "Nuh uh. Bad."

She laughed quietly and pressed her lips to the back of his neck. "Sorry, baby."

"Liar."

Another laugh and she sat up, one leg on either side of him, and rubbed his shoulders. "I bet I can make it up to you."

"Prob'ly," he said. He turned his head to look at her. "But maybe it's just a trick so you can tickle me some more."

Her eyes went wide. "Now would I do that to you?"

She let out a shriek as he flipped over and tackled her into the mattress. He kissed her neck and down the curve of her shoulder and then lifted his chin to grin at her. "I wouldn't put it past you," he said.

She ran a hand over his mohawk. "You can't really blame me, Juicy." Her voice dropped low and her words were laced with honey. "I just love making you whimper and squirm when I'm on top of you."

"Well when you put it like that—" He broke off with a smirk and captured her mouth with his. When he pulled away, though, his face was troubled. She tensed.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head and hitched a shoulder. "Nothing." He went to kiss her again, but she held him off.

"Something. Tell me."

His forehead dropped and he used a fingertip to outline a constellation from the freckles on her chest. She took his hand and laced her fingers through his.

"Tell me," she said again.

He sighed and looked away. When he looked back his jaw was tight and she could see the gleam of tears in his eyes. "You were really just gonna take off? No goodbyes? I'd show up here and you'd just be gone, all your shit packed…and nothing?"

"No, Juicy, I—"

"Olivia. Don't lie to me."

She let out a long sigh and bit her lip. "I was going to call you from the road. I would never—I would never just go."

He sat up and slouched forward with his head in his hands. "What would you have said?" His voice was dull and muffled.

"I don't know. I didn't get that far."

His arms fell and he tilted his chin toward her. "Do you love me, Olivia?"

She jerked upright. "Juice—"

"It's a serious question. I know you said it, and I know that was hard for you, but I need to know you meant it."

"I don't say things I don't mean," she whispered.

The muscles danced beneath his skin as he clenched his teeth. "So maybe explain how those two go together. One hand you love me, the other you're ready to take off any second."

"I'm not—" She cut herself off and sucked in a breath. "Let me explain something else to you, Juice. The man who is hunting me, the man who might very well find me thanks to this stupid fucking deal, is not someone you ever want to tangle with. I have no doubt that he would do horrible, unimaginable things to anyone he thinks I care about just to fuck with me. Who in Charming do I care about the most?"

He cut his eyes back at her. "You could've called me."

"While I was waiting for Bobby and Jax I sat down and thought about it. Who could I call? Who could help me? Who in this whole fucked up town cares more about me than about SAMCRO?"

Now he twisted around to stare, his expression incredulous. "Olivia—"

"The only name I could come up with was Eli Roosevelt. I did call him, but only to ask about my car." She hitched a shoulder. "Do you know why I don't want to be an old lady? Yeah, it bothers me that an old lady essentially belongs to her old man. And I hate the whole 'old ladies are different' BS. But the main thing that stops me…?"

She spread her hands. "I know your first loyalty will always be to the club. And, look, I knew that when we started, and it's just something I have to accept. But how are you the one I call when it's the club that's threatening me? How am I going to put you in that position? It's not fair to either of us."

He scowled. "What does fair have to do with anything?"

"I don't know. It's a nice idea, fairness."

He scooted up the bed and settled against the pillow next to her. He was quiet for a long time, and she cast him quick glances from the corner of her eye. Finally, "You know, not long after I moved to Charming I met this girl. Yvonne. She lived up in Stockton. She was…well, she was real pretty. Different than you. Colombian."

She lifted a brow and he hurried on.

"Anyway, we were together over a year. I thought she might be my old lady. I always saw her as, I don't know. That 'love of my life' kinda thing, like in the movies. Even after we broke up I still used to go see her whenever I needed someone to talk to. She was just like that."

"Why are you telling me this?" she said, warily.

He fisted his hands together and stared down at the gold Reaper ring. Normally he took his rings off before bed, but he'd forgotten. He rubbed his thumb over it.

"I loved her. I really did. But as much as I loved her, I never once thought about choosing her over the club. It never woulda crossed my mind. She was a woman. They come and go; even old ladies, and she never was that."

Her brows drew together. "I think you just made my point, Juice."

He looked at her and his dark eyes were hard. "The way I felt about Yvonne is nothing compared to how I feel about you, Olivia. I don't know why. I don't know how things like this happen. I'm just a dumb Puerto Rican from Queens who likes computers and bikes and not havin' to think too much."

He twisted the ring off and dropped it in her palm. "I'd choose you in a second. Every time. Any time."

She stared down at it and then back up at him. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. "I would never ask—"

"I know you wouldn't. Listen to me, Liv, because I'm trying to make this as clear as I can: don't ever think you can't call me. Don't ever think I wouldn't stand up to Jax or anyone else for you. Don't ever think I wouldn't make the same sacrifices for you that you'd make for me."

"The stakes are so much higher for you," she said in a strangled voice.

"Fuck the stakes." He cupped her face. "It's you and me, Liv. I'm yours and you're mine. That's it."

"If something happened to you because of me—"

"Stop." He huffed out a breath. "The first night we met you threatened a man with a switchblade. We escaped a beat down by hiding out in your room and we fucked on the table. And in the bed. And in the shower."

"It was a memorable night." Her mouth quirked. "Though the time in bed was just oral."

"Just. Right. Like I could forget," he said with a snort. "I was being general."

"Oh. Forgive me. Please, proceed with your point."

"Smartass."

"Mmhmm."

"Had no idea that could be so sexy."

"I think that's the memories talking."

"Maybe." His gaze drifted down to her mouth. "Thinking about you sucking my dick is pretty distracting."

She took one of his hands away from her face and ran it to down to rest on her hip. "Weren't you in the middle of making a point, Ortiz?"

"Yeah. A point." He blinked and jerked his head to clear it. "I just mean…I knew from the beginning that you weren't exactly typical. That being with you wouldn't be the safe choice."

"You think I'm dangerous?" she said.

"Not like I think you're gonna hurt me. But in your way? Yeah. I wouldn't fuck with you." He paused to brush his fingers over her cheek. "Honestly, if I were this guy I wouldn't come after you at all. After what you did to his kid? I'd take the fuckin' hint and steer clear."

"If we could only be so lucky," she said with a rueful tilt to her mouth.

"Well, you know, maybe we're due."

It was eerily similar to what she'd said to Tara that day in the hospital. And maybe she'd been right. Maybe Juice was right, too. Maybe they were due. "It can't rain all the time," she murmured.

His lips twisted in a brief smile. "You like that movie?"

"It's kind of a classic, isn't it? I mean, in certain circles."

"Yeah. Guess so."

He cleared his throat and his eyes flicked away.

"Olivia," he said, "you know I like spending time with you. I like the way you see things and how you make me better. I like that you're unpredictable and stubborn and that you call me on my bullshit. And, yeah, the sex is fucking amazing." He smiled a little, sheepishly, and shrugged a shoulder. "I don't want to fuck any of that up and I don't want you to think I'm tryin' to put pressure on you. It's not like that. I just—I guess I just need to know this means something."

She took in a long, slow breath. He'd laid a lot on her and she wasn't sure how to process all of it. She squeezed the ring and felt the raised edges dig into her palm. Had she fucked up so badly that he really didn't know how much he meant to her? She wasn't good with words, and if he judged by her actions—well. She'd almost skipped town tonight without so much as leaving a note.

"You don't want to be an old lady, and I guess I get why," he said when the silence stretched on. "You don't want everyone to know that we're a thing. I get that, too. The thing is, Liv, I don't need much. I just need you."

Her eyes closed, briefly. She shifted around until she was in his lap. Leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. "How about we come to an understanding? An understanding that I'm yours and you're mine. An understanding that whatever other fucked up shit comes along, there's still that. That's what matters. Not ridiculous, outmoded titles and public announcements. I'm yours." She kissed him softly. "And you're mine."

She started to pull away, but he caught her face in his hands again. "You really mean that? The other day when you said it—"

"You're what I want, Juice." Her eyes were steady on his, her expression smooth. "This is what I want, and I only want it with you. Like you said, I'm trying to be as clear as I can. Okay?"

He gave a jerky, stuttering nod. "Yeah," he said on a long exhale. "Yeah, okay." He tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. "Promise me one thing, though."

"Name it," she said.

"Promise you won't do this again, Liv. If you feel like running, call me. Don't try to disappear. If this is gonna work, we have to trust each other."

"I know. I'm sorry. It was fucking stupid, but it's become knee-jerk for me. Shit hits the fan and I run." Her nose scrunched. "It's a habit I'm trying to break."

He took the ring from her and set it on the bedside table. "I love you, Olivia. I want you to stay with me."

"I never wanted to go," she said in a voice gone small.

"Stay with me, babe," he whispered, his lips just brushing hers. "Promise you'll stay."

"I promise, Juicy. I'm not going anywhere." Her mouth was hot against his, her tongue a silken whisper. "I do love you, Juan Carlos," she said on a soft breath.

His eyes crinkled. "You've never called me that before."

"Hhmm." She matched his smile with one her own. "I'm really too white to pull it off, I think."

"A little. Ow!" he said as she bit his neck. "Only a little!"

She licked the spot to soothe it. "Sorry, baby."

"Liar," he said and shifted beneath her. "But it's okay. I kinda liked it."

She rocked into him a little. "I thought you might."

His breath caught. "You keep doing that—"

"And what?" She did it again. "You'll get hard?" She pressed a kiss against his jaw. "Too late, I think."

"I thought we were having a moment."

She laughed. "We had one. A moment was had. It was lovely. Now let's have a different sort of moment. A naked, sweaty, vigorous moment. In other words, baby, I'd really like us to fuck each other's brains out, because apparently declarations of love and devotion make me hot as hell."

The sheet was a barrier between them. He fisted a handful of it and yanked. With his other hand he cupped one of her breasts and kneaded it gently. Brushed his palm across the nipple as she shivered. "I guess I should've told you months ago."

She moved her hips in a slow roll. "I think the circumstances have to be right," she said, breathlessly.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said and leaned down to kiss her, but he pulled back at the last minute and tilted his head toward her nightstand. "I've never asked you what's in that drawer down there," he said. "Besides lube, I mean."

"Oh." If she was surprised she didn't show it. She pushed him over a little and tugged it open. "All sorts of things that go well with lube, of course."

"Hum. That's, uh. That's quite a collection." The drawer held several sex toys: a few dildos, a couple of vibrators, and at least one thing (that he could see) that was definitely a butt plug. He grinned at her. "You've been holdin' out on me."

"A girl's gotta have her secrets," she said with a shrug.

He poked through the assortment. "When was the last time you used any of this stuff?"

"Um, well." She pointed to one of the vibrators. It was short, purple, and had a flat tip. "That one gets a nice workout when you've been gone on those cartel runs. What?" she said at his look. "I miss you when you're not around. I really enjoy sex."

He grinned and kissed her. "I know, believe me, and it's one of the things I love about you. I just wish you told me."

"Why's that?" she said, softly.

"Well, just…" He looked away. Shifted his weight and smoothed the sheet across his thigh. "I like to know what you enjoy. I mean. I want to what gets you off. I mean, really gets you off."

She lifted a brow and stroked a hand over his head. "You do a pretty good job of it, Ortiz."

"Well I try…but I can always do better, right?"

The question hung in the air between them for so long he thought he might have to repeat himself. She looked completely taken aback. Her cheeks flooded with color, and her freckles seemed to dance like stars. "No one's ever really asked me that before," she finally said.

"Yeah," he said with a sad smile, "that's kinda what I thought." He met her eyes with such intensity that she had to fight the urge to drop his gaze. "Listen, babe, I like when you take charge not just because I like that sorta thing. I mean, I do. I'm not gonna lie about it.

"But with you it's more than that. I want you to tell me what to do because I want to know that you're enjoying every second of what we do together. I want you to tell me when I can come because it means you're ready. You've come—several times, hopefully—and then I can. Look, no matter what happens, if we're fucking, I'm gonna enjoy it. I know I'm gonna come. That doesn't worry me. I want to know that I'm getting you off."

"I literally have no idea what to say to that." There was a thoughtful pause. She frowned a little. Ran a fingertip along the veins in the back of his hand. Traced over one of his rings like she was trying to read it in Braille. "Honestly, that's pretty much the sexiest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He raised her chin so that he could see her face. "Yeah?"

"You want me to tell you how and when and how many times to make me come because knowing that you're pushing all the right buttons exactly the way I want them pushed is what gets you off. Yeah, Juice. That's sexy as hell."

"But you don't want me to call you Mistress, right?"

Her laugh rippled across his skin like warm rain. "That will never be necessary in any aspect of our relationship. So what are your thoughts on the drawer here?"

"Hhhmm," he said. He grabbed the one she'd pointed at earlier. "You used this one while I was on the road?"

"Uh huh," she said. Her voice had gone breathy. "It's, um. It's made for your G-spot."

"Oh. Yeah, you would like that."

He fiddled with the controls a minute until he got it going on the lowest setting. Pushed her gently back onto the bed and stretched out next to her. He kissed her stomach. Ran his tongue around her belly button. He lapped across her nipples. She made a soft noise that turned sharp when he pressed the flat tip of the vibrator against the curls between her legs.

He moved it up and down, then spread her lips with his free hand and trailed his tongue all around them.

She bit back a moan. He grinned up at her. Kissed the inside of her thigh. His stubble was rough on her skin and she wiggled. He brushed his chin back and forth against her just to make her squirm. He used the toy to trace the same path on her pussy that his tongue just had.

"Show me how you like it, Livvie," he said, his voice a hoarse rasp.

She ran her finger along the curve of one of his scalp tattoos. "You want me to show you what I did while you were away?"

"Yeah," he said, choking a little. "Please."

"Well." She flicked the motor off. "I usually start with my hands." She brushed a fingertip against her clit and shuddered. Dipped the same finger inside and spread the slick wetness all over her cunt.

He licked his lips. His eyes slid up to meet hers and she shook her head.

"You said you wanted to see what I did while you were gone." She pressed her wet finger against his lower lip. "I absolutely didn't have that eager mouth of yours, now did I?"

He sucked it in and swirled his tongue around it. "Keep goin', babe," he said.

Her eyes stayed steady on his as she turned the vibrator on again. She bumped the speed up a notch or two, and when she pressed it against her clit he panted. Her mouth fell open in a little o. She slid the toy from her clit down to her entrance and back up again.

"Liv—" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Baby, I know I said I wanted to watch, but—"

"But what, sugar?" she said.

He ran his tongue over his lower lip again, and this time he could taste her. He closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them again she was watching him with a lifted brow. "Let me. Please. I'll use my mouth on your clit and the toy inside you, and I'll lick and suck until you come so fuckin' hard, Livvie."

"Mmmm," she said, a long, low moan. Her head fell back and she let go of the toy.

He caught it before it could fall. "Is that a yes?" he said with a grin.

"Tease me and die, Ortiz," she said, only half-joking.

He let out a laugh and flipped the vibrator around to press it into her. He knew the exact moment he had the right spot because her hips jerked and she gasped hard. "Right there, baby?" he murmured against her slick cunt.

"Uh huh," she managed. "Like that, Juicy. Turn it—turn it up a little."

He moved the setting one higher and she cursed. He smirked a little. She grabbed the back of his head and pressed his face against her, and he responded fervently. He sucked the swollen nub between his lips and worked it with his tongue. She rocked her hips against him, something he took as encouragement, and he ran his tongue down from the top of her slit all the way until he hit the vibrator. He did it again. And again. Until she was writhing beneath him and practically incoherent.

"Fuck, baby," she moaned. "Yeah, Juicy, don't stop God you know exactly—fuck that's so good!" Her voice had gone breathless and high-pitched by the last word, and he knew she was almost there.

He adjusted the rhythm of the vibe and alternated long, hard sucks and short, quick ones on her clit. Her body arched and he felt the muscles in her legs dance against him. He lashed his tongue back and forth, firm and fast.

"Yeah yes that's it oh fuck oh God—!" She trailed off into incoherent whimpers. Her nails dug into his scalp and her hips bucked as the climax took her. He kept the pressure up with the toy but slowly, slowly eased off on her clit. She shuddered and moaned and shuddered again.

He turned his head to kiss the inside of her thigh. "Enough, babe? Or more?"

She absolutely wanted to come again, but not with a vibrator. She turned it off and tugged his hand away. "I'd rather have you," she said.

He set it on the nightstand and kissed his way up her body.

"I guess you weren't lying when you said you miss me when I'm gone," he said.

"Of course not, love." Her head tilted against the pillow and her green eyes sparkled. "I also missed you the night of the big welcome home bash. After what happened on the swings, remember? And before that I missed you after the botched rendezvous in the bathroom—after I got out of jail, that is."

"Hum." He traced his nose against her throat. "Any other times?"

"Oh, plenty. But I don't want to bore you."

His mouth quirked in a half-smile. He looked down at the drawer again. "Have you used all that stuff?" he said.

"At one time or another, yeah."

"Even, uh…" He leaned down and grabbed the plug. "This?"

"Yep," she said, her expression serene.

He swallowed. "On somebody else, or…?"

"Both. I mean, not that particular one. That one only on me. But the idea? Both."

"Huh," he said on a hard exhale.

She took it from him and pulled him down to whisper in his ear: "Maybe if you ask me real, real sweet, I'll use it on you one day." She flicked her tongue against his skin and laughed at the noise he made. "I knew you'd like that idea," she said.

"Didn't really know I did until now."

"Something to file away for another day." She slid her hand down his stomach. "In the meantime…?"

Olivia almost asked Gemma to take her to TM after they finished up with the judge, but she decided maybe that wasn't a great idea. She was still pretty pissed at Jax for the way he'd acted yesterday—accusing her of being a rat basically just to gauge her reaction—and she wasn't sure she was ready to see him yet.

Gemma tried hard to talk her into dinner. She said Wayne was coming over and she was making pot roast. Olivia was sorely tempted; Gemma's pot roast was no joke; but ultimately she declined. She wanted some time alone. She knew that might not be the best idea right now, but she assured Gemma she'd lock all the doors and keep her eyes and ears peeled for anything suspicious.

And she did. Except she knew Juice would be over later and he didn't have keys to all of her locks. All of her locks didn't even unlock with keys. So while she locked the knob and the deadbolt, she didn't set the police bar or the thumb bolt or the chain. Later she would curse her own stupidity, especially in light of everything that had gone down yesterday.

But she'd been the single most paranoid person on the planet (barring some sort of mental disorder) for the past seven years. Now all she wanted was a bath uninterrupted by the doorbell. She flipped on the porch light and wandered toward the bathroom. She started the water and added a bit of honey bath milk. Stripped off her clothes and slid into the tub.

The tension started to drain away the second she hit the hot water. She ran her fingers over the surface and stirred up a few bubbles.

Things had gone well with the judge. He'd agreed to rush her name change and keep the records sealed. Nero had pulled him aside during his weekly appointment, and surely the environment had added some incentive. She wasn't sure how much Gemma had told Nero. She didn't mind so much, really. She liked him. She liked anyone who put that much effort into transforming himself.

She stayed in the bath until the water grew cool and her skin was pruny. At last she hauled herself out of the tub and pulled the plug. She rubbed a towel over her skin and shrugged into her robe. The tub gurgled as it drained, the water chattered through the old pipes, and to her the sound was like music. When she was a kid Olivia and her mother used to make up silly songs to match household noises: a chant for the dishwasher, a dirge for the dryer; and it was a habit she fell into from time to time. The emptying bathtub got a hopping little ditty that was ridiculous and nonsensical, but it put a smile on her face all the same.

She swiped her knife off the counter and reached for the doorknob. Her fingers froze as she touched it and her body went rigid as she strained to listen. There was a noise in her living room. Boots. Heavy boots on wooden floors.

Not Juice.

Not anyone who knew her and had a key to her house, because anyone who fit that description knew how picky she was about her goddamn floors. She listened hard, and eventually she could make out three distinct sets of feet. One of them had an odd hitch-and-drag, like maybe from a limp. She held her breath and knelt to dig through her pants pockets for her phone.

She dialed 911 and pressed the speaker against her body to muffle the sound. She didn't speak when she heard the operator's voice, and instead opened the cabinet under the sink and shoved the phone in among the toilet paper and extra towels.

So far the footsteps had been confined to the living room/dining room/kitchen area. She figured they hadn't noticed the bathroom light seeping under the door, so she took the chance and flipped it off. She squeezed into the space between the tub and the door; if someone opened it, she'd be hidden behind it. She flicked her blade out and waited.

She heard a hurried, whispered conversation, and then two of them started down the hall.

"Bedroom's back here?" one said.

"Guess so. Should we check these doors?"

"Probably just a closet and the bathroom."

"Still. Bitches keep jewelry in the bathroom sometimes."

"Yeah, check it. I'll hit the bedroom."

Jewelry? What the fuck? Doyle's men wouldn't be after her fucking jewelry. Her eyes closed and her head fell back against the wall. Of course. The home invasions. They'd already hit up a crow eater and Wade. They'd attacked Wayne at Gemma's place. She lived alone, far out on the edge of town, and she was associated with SAMCRO. She was the perfect target, really—especially since without a car in the driveway it looked like no one was home.

She heard the linen closet door close. A second later the bathroom knob turned. She crouched a little and squeezed the grip on her knife. The door opened and light flooded the small space. Her eyes hadn't had a chance to grow adjusted to the dark, luckily, so she wasn't blinded by the sudden brightness.

She waited until he was all the way in and digging through her medicine cabinet before she leapt. She slammed the door shut and landed hard on his back. She didn't use her blade; not yet; but she made sure he felt it against his neck. He wore a ski mask, but she could see that he was white. There was a tattoo on his neck. A star, maybe?

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?" she growled into his ear.

He screeched and tried to throw her off, but she held on like a barnacle. Her legs were around his waist and one arm was locked around his neck. He choked and she pressed harder.

Feet pounded in the hall as his two buddies ran to his rescue, but she shifted her weight sideways and they fell against the door. He reached back and grabbed a handful of her hair. She yelped and plunged her knife into his shoulder.

He let out a shriek that could probably be heard three towns over. Her grip loosened and he threw her off. She landed on all fours like a cat and twisted up onto her feet.

Blood dripped down his arm and pattered onto the tile.

"You stabbed me, you fucking bitch!" he cried. He lunged toward her but she ducked and skidded out of the way.

The door burst open and suddenly she had nowhere to run. The bathroom was not big enough for three large men and an escape route.

"The cunt stabbed me!" the first one said.

"Let's get outta here," the biggest one said. He grabbed one of her towels and pressed it against his buddy's shoulder.

"Fuck no! I'm fuckin' bleedin', man."

"He said not to touch her. Come on!"

"Fuck him and fuck her, too. I'm fuckin' bleedin' all over the goddamn place."

He surged toward her and she slashed at him. But she was outnumbered now, and the third guy grabbed her from behind. She kicked and spat and clawed at him, but he had nearly a foot in height and a hundred pounds on her. He squeezed her wrist until she cried out and the knife fell from her numb fingers.

"Not so tough without your sticker, huh, little bitch?"

She snarled but he just laughed.

"Come on, man," the big one said. He sounded nervous. "We hurt her we're fucked. He's already pissed about the other night."

"The other night?" she said. "You mean when you beat up a sick man half your size? Fuck you, you fucking cowards. Give me back my knife and we'll see how you do."

"Shut her up," the big one said. "Shut her up and let's get the fuck outta here."

The one she'd stabbed looked her up and down and leered. Her robe had fallen open in the struggle and it was clear she was naked underneath. She glared back at him, eyes spitting fire, and dared him to touch her.

"Get your tiny little pecker near me, sweetheart, and I'll rip it off," she hissed.

The one holding her shoved her away and stepped backwards. "I'm out, man. We ain't here for no fucking rape."

"Who's talkin' about that? I'm not an animal. I just wanna fuck her up a little. Payback."

"Do it and come the fuck on," the big one said. His voice grew increasingly worried as the minutes ticked by. "Way you were screamin', neighbors might call the cops."

"Sorry, little girl. Ain't got time for romance."

He backhanded her hard enough to send her flying. Her head hit the tub and she slid to the floor in a boneless heap. She thought she heard sharp, panicked voices, but everything was muddled and blurry. The room spun and dissolved and then her world went black.

Well that took quite a 180.