I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. Every so often I would see a blurry figure walk by and he would often stop in front of me. I would always feel his hands on my face and once he even forced his fingers into my mouth. I tried to move my head away but found it impossible. The second his digits were gone, I spat out the salty, copper taste of his fingers.

I woke up some time later in a dark and smelly room. I was still groggy and when I tried to sit it became apparent that I was completely tied down. Instead, I tried to look around. I saw the stairs where I fell so I assumed that I was in the same room. Water covered most of the floor so when I heard dripping I figured it was from a pipe. I turned to find the source and immediately regretted it. From the corner of my eye I was able to make out the silhouette of a woman. She hung unnaturally from the ceiling. A metal hook pierced her back and exited just underneath her collarbone causing her head to hang limply off to one side. Both of her legs were missing and one of her arms had been cleaved from her body. Droplets of blood would occasionally escape the wounds.

I looked away from her and tried to focus on something else. The room was filled with various utensils that you would normally find in a butcher's warehouse. Hooks, cleavers and other knives decorated the worktable in the center of the room. All of which did nothing to calm my terrified mind.

The bang of the door above caused my eyes to shift to the stairs. I watched as a large man came into view. He had a hulking frame covered in muscle, which just made him look even bigger. A mask made of leather covered the lower half of his face. His dark eyes just stared at me as he moved closer. I tried to move away but my bonds were too tight. He stopped next the table I was strapped to and I could feel his eyes looking me over. I tried in vain to pull away as his hand reached up and touched my face. I closed my eyes and waited for something bad to happen, yet when nothing did I chanced a look up at the man. He was gazing down at me curiously. His hand slipped from my face back to his side. I moved around a little, straining against my bond in a vain attempt to get comfortable. I huffed angrily and resigned myself to the discomfort.

The man seemed to register my annoyance. He hesitated for a moment then picked up a long metal lever and removed the metal bonds at my throat and wrists. I sat up, rubbing my wrists. I glanced at him and whispered, "Thank you."

The man looked confused, like he had never heard those words directed at himself. He continued to watch my every move and it made me feel awkward. His eyes were dark and difficult to read. I had a feeling, though, that this man was responsible for the state of the woman on the hook. I had to make it my personal goal to avoid a hook of my own. "Um… my name's Sarah." He didn't respond instead he just continued to stare down at me.

"Thomas!" The man whipped around and stared up the stairs. "Get your ugly ass up here. Dinner's ready." I recognized the voice as Hoyt's. The man who I assumed was Thomas started rubbing his hands together like he was nervous. He glanced over at me then back up the stairs. He pushed me back against the table and reached for the metal restraints.

"Please, no." I pleaded to him. I didn't want to be left helpless in a place as strange as this. He looked at me for a brief second before disappearing and returning with twine. He wrapped it rather tightly around my wrists. When he was satisfied with his work he went up stairs.

I sat there in the dark and felt cold and alone. This was all my stupid ex-boyfriend's fault. He was the reason I was on the road that day. The night before I found him in bed with my supposed best friend. Then he kicked me out, forcing me to pack up everything I own and shove it into my car. Now I didn't even know where my car was.

I'm not sure how long I sat down there but it seemed like forever. Eventually, I heard more footsteps and Thomas came down the steps. He came straight for me. I closed my eyes out of instinct and flinched away.

I looked up when I felt something nudge my shoulder. I turned to his outstretched hand and held out my own expectantly. He let a bread roll fall into my palm. I looked up at him and his brown eyes stared back. I quietly thanked him before I started eating the food. It was still warm and tasted homemade. I heard clanging behind me and turned to find Thomas no longer standing next to me. I quickly scanned the room and saw he had moved to his work table. He was the only thing that provided any entertainment so I sat there and watched him work. It looked like he was fixing the blade of a chainsaw.

I watched quietly as he took the chain with the dull teeth and replaced it with a new razor sharp chain. Suddenly, Thomas shrieked and pulled his hand away from the blade. His hand had slipped as he was tightening the new blade and now a gash could be seen running across his hand. Thomas was holding his wrist while he examined the cut across his palm. He turned and started to search for something, but he couldn't find whatever it was.

As I sat there watching him search blindly for whatever he was looking for, a thread of pity wound it's way around my brain. "Come here. Let me see it."

Thomas stared at me for a second before he hesitantly moved closer. I reached out and took his hand in mine. The wound wasn't bleeding as much as I thought it was, but still enough to create a trail across the floor as he moved.

"Could you cut me loose. I need to get something." I said, looking up at him. He paused, eyeing me, before nodding and taking a knife to the rope around my wrists.

Now that my hands were free I could reach the bandana in my back pocket that I usually wrapped around my hair. I pulled it out and folded it over so I could bandage Thomas's hand. I tied it tightly to keep it from bleeding anymore.

"There you go." I said as I let his hand fall from my own. He looked at the red bandana then back up at me. He moved his bandaged hand up to my face again. This time I didn't try to move away. I looked up into his eyes again and they looked almost grateful. I forced a smile. His rough fingertips lightly ran over my cheek then down to my lips as they curved upward.

"Thomas!" a voice yelled from upstairs, startling the both of us. It wasn't Hoyt's; instead it sounded like an older woman. "Time for bed. I don't want you staying up all night down there."

Thomas pulled his hand back and moved toward the stairs. I sighed and watched him leave. I fell back onto the table and stared at the rotting wood of the ceiling. A minute later, the sound of the door at the top of the stair opening drew my attention. Thomas appeared around the corner with something in his hands. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched him as he approached. He threw a blanket over me before tentatively running his hand over my cheek one last time. His fingertips lingered as his eyes met mine then he was suddenly gone, heading back up the stairs to the house above and leaving me alone in the dingy cellar. I rubbed my palm over the skin he had touched before pulling the blanket to my chin and closing my eyes, hoping for sleep.