"Why, Dr Stark?" Danielle asked bluntly the next morning. "Why are you so reluctant to let me move wards? Given my circumstances?"

Just as she had feared, she'd hardly slept the rest of the previous night. Adam's call freaked her out, as much as she wanted to pretend it hadn't. Would that man ever leave her alone? She knew she was taking her anger out on the wrong person, but she couldn't help it. There was so much more going on here than she could tell her doctor. Her growing feelings for Michael, for one. Was she falling in love with him? If she was, the notion partly thrilled, and partly scared her. What should she do about it? Everything, or nothing. She knew Dr Stark only wanted to help, but how could she explain part of the reason she wanted to move wards was because she feared her own heart. Or because she didn't want to rely on Michael.

Even to her own ears it sounded like an excuse. No. It was because she was falling in love with him and was terrified. He could do a lot worse to her than anything Adam had. But surely, he wouldn't, would he? She'd let herself get close to him after all. She'd asked to stay with him. So how could she possibly say, oh Dr Stark, the real reason I want to move and am coming across as angry is because I'm falling in love with a killer, and it scares me? Simple answer was, she couldn't.

Dr Stark sighed. "The lower wards are for patients who are more…"

"Sighted?" she snapped, unable to help herself. Sane? Need less care than me? Going to be released a lot damn sooner than I am?"

"No," Dr Stark said, unruffled by her words. "You are in the care of the best people to help you overcome the trauma Adam caused. The other wards are filled with men, none of whom have been through what you have. Also yes, you being blind does play a part, we have the most well-trained guards here to protect you if needed."

"Which is why you put me next door to a masked serial killer and a sexual predator?" She knew her words were unfair, but she was angry, bitter. It was Adam's call, the hung jury resulting in a mistrial. Ellen Duckworth. Just her name made her hot with fury. The fucking bitch. Then there was Michael…

Dr Stark's voice remained gentle, which infuriated her even more. "Need I remind you that you care for said serial killer? We didn't plan or engineer that. Is this anger all because of what happened with Adam last night? Or is it the hung jury? What's wrong? This isn't like you. Believe it or not, we're trying to help you. Moving you just because you don't want to come across as dependent on Michael isn't the answer. Believe me, you won't get anywhere near the same level of care down there."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better, aren't you?" She looked away.

"Actually no," Dr Stark said evenly. "I'm saying it because it's the truth. If you absolutely insist, we can do it, but I promise you within twenty-four hours you'll realise it was a mistake."

"Yeah, because you know best," she said bitterly. "I'm the patient, you're the doctor."

"No, because it's the truth," Dr Stark said. "Listen if you really want us to consider it, we will. You're not a prisoner."

"Could've fucking fooled me! What the fuck would you call it then? You lock me in that fucking cell every single night, it's not like I can get out, is it? I don't know where the fuck I am or know my way around anywhere. Are you having a fucking laugh?"

"You can always call a guard if you need air. We'll take you out at any time you need."

"Would've been nice if you'd told me that way back then," she snarled. She'd just about had enough.

"At first we couldn't," Dr Stark said. "At first you were, for want of a better word, a prisoner. We had to watch you, make sure you weren't a danger to yourself. But you've proved we can trust you, you're not here because you're insane. I'll say that as many times as I need to. I was going to tell you today about these new changes."

"You're lying, aren't you? You're just trying to make me feel better."

"I can't make you believe me, but no I'm not. Dr Loomis agrees with me. Listen to me. You're scared and angry. If I believed for a second you were dangerous and didn't trust you, this window would already have been closed. Doesn't that tell you something? Do you want to lose Joanne? She can't follow you to a different ward. I don't think you'd like that. You like and trust each other; you are friends now it seems, as much as guard and patient can be. Joanne would be upset to lose you. Please let me ask you again. What is it? If Michael came in here right now and held you close, would it lessen your anger? Bitterness?"

She firmly shook her head. "Michael has nothing to do with it," she muttered. She knew she wasn't a good liar.

"Please tell me," Dr Stark softly touched her arm. "I genuinely want to help you. Please tell me what's wrong and if there's anything I can do. I care about you. I'm not out to trick, trap or mislead you. I'm just here to help you. Please tell me why you're so angry. Please just be honest with me. We've worked together for so long now. You know you can trust me. Tell you what? Give me two minutes, I'll go get you a cup of tea. Think about what I've asked you, ok? I'm on your side, not against you. Put your guard down or I can't help you. Give me just a minute."

She left. She took a deep breath, tears pricking her eyes. She reached for the box of tissues which was always on the patient's side of the window. Wiping her eyes, she tried to consider the doctor's words. She'd been angry since she'd got here. First it was because she'd been rescued when all she'd wanted was to die. Now? Most of her anger was at Ellen Duckworth. Because of her stupid personal circumstances, there could be a retrial and she wasn't sure she could face that. Not again. Adam. She sighed as more tears fell. That fucker had hurt her so badly, given her both physical and mental scars. Even if she found Mr. Right, she still wasn't sure they'd ever completely disappear.

You already have, said a voice in her mind. You just won't admit it and you're disguising it with anger…

Dr Stark quietly entered the room, handing her her tea. She gave her a faint smile, murmuring, "Thanks."

She knew she had to be honest. When Dr Stark sat down, she started to speak. "I'm sorry Dr Stark, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just Adam, he still won't leave me the fuck alone, and it's at that Duckworth bitch. It's a retrial which could mean his eventual permanent release and if that happens, I don't know what I'll do. Even now he's out, albeit under strict conditions and having to pay a lot of money for the privilege, that's bad enough. I don't mean I'll try and commit suicide again, but…" She ran her hands through her short hair.

"Thank you for your apology, but there's really no need for it." Dr Stark touched her hand again. "As for what you'll do, you'll be kept safe, given top security status. He'll never find you, even when you do leave here. She sighed.

"So why won't you release me?" She spoke quietly, finally asking the question she really wanted the answer to.

"Truthfully, because we want to keep you here until we know what's going to happen with the retrial and how best to protect you if necessary. You're safe here. That's the main reason. But as I said, you're not a prisoner, if you need to get out of your cell at any time just ask. I was going to tell you that today."

She sighed. "Ok. Thanks, I appreciate that. I guess I was desperate to move because I was worried you still thought I was a suicidal head case. Not just that, but Adam has already proven that he won't stop by calling me last night. I don't want to depend on Michael, or make it look like I'm relying on him to protect me. I genuinely care about him, but he's not responsible for me and I don't want it to look that way."

Dr Stark said nothing for a moment, then sighed. Could the Psychiatrist tell she was partly lying? Probably.

"No, being here does not mean you're and I quote, "A head case." That's a word the uneducated use for places like this, people who don't understand what really goes on here. You are not insane."

"What am I then?" She spoke in just above a whisper.

"You're a hurting young woman who's been through a horrific experience which caused you to try on your life, which is totally understandable I might add, as you felt you had no other way out. You were saved and brought here purely for help and care. We want you to get better. We know you have great potential; Charlotte has told us how clever, kind and outgoing you are. We want to give you the chance to fulfil your potential once again. Please believe me there. We just want to help you."

There was another moment of silence, before she reached forward and grasped her doctor's hand. "I'm sorry, Dr Stark. I just feel so… Powerless. I wish there was more I could do. I want Adam locked up for a long fucking time. But I'm powerless there. I've given my evidence as has Charlotte but there's nothing more we can do. We hate it. We talked about it that night. We both feel the same. Though she won't listen to me when I tell her that she's just as much of a victim as I am. Ok, so I went through more, but he still abused her. Abuse is abuse."

Dr Stark squeezed her hand. "You have absolutely no need to apologise to me. Its fine, honestly it is. I totally understand. Do you still want us to talk about moving you?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No, I… I didn't mean that. I like working with you Dr Stark and you're right, I'd miss Joanne something terrible. Joanne and…" She stopped herself. They both knew the name she hadn't said. Michael.

"Ok," Dr Stark said. "But would you like your own, bigger cell? Another thing I was going to tell you today. One of the big rooms has just come free at the end of the corridor. It'd be your own private space. Normally used for people who thrash about so they can't hurt themselves, but it would be perfect for you, it's bigger and you'd have more space.

"I won't deny I want to be further away from Chancer, Dr Stark." But not Michael…

"Again, which I totally understand. Come on, I'll show you what I mean." She went to stand up when Danielle stopped her.

"Dr Stark," she spoke quietly now and felt more tears building. Dr Stark sat back down. "That's not all of it. I think…" She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I think I might be falling in love with Michael and that part thrills, but also fucking terrifies me! He could do a lot worse to me than Adam ever did. But I want to be close to him all the time, but I also want to move to… I don't know!" She threw her hands up. "Shit! That I can do this myself! That I don't need a man to be happy! But Michael's done something to me, and I don't know what it is. Nor do I want to jump at the first man who's nice to me. But he's gone out of his way to help me and…"

"Ok," she could tell her doctor was smiling. She touched her hand again. "There is nothing wrong with love. Of course, you're scared of it, which is totally understandable considering all you've been through. I also understand your fear of jumping towards the first man who is kind to you. However," she stressed the last word stopping her from speaking. "If Michael wants to help you, even if it's only while you're here, let him. Remember, he's human too. In his own way, he has his own scars, as I've told you before. There's an old saying, you can't love anyone until you love yourself. Based on what you've just said, moving cells sounds like a good idea. You will have time to think, your own space and a chance to find yourself again."

She could only nod. She couldn't dispute her doctor's words there.

Dr Stark stood up again and came around to her side of the window by opening the secure door, then took her arm and guided her back to the block.

…

Adam was ecstatic after he called Danielle and could hear her obvious fear. He was still smirking as he closed the door behind the whore who had just left and checked his bed sheets for blood. If he found any, he'd wash them immediately, deny nor acknowledge. A bleeding whore meant either a huge fine or even the chance of being jumped by the whore's pimp. With a sigh of relief, he noticed his sheets were clear of blood. Climbing into his bed sexually satisfied, he prepared for sleep. But just before he closed his eyes, Adam Dawson made one final decision. After the call with her, he decided he wanted to know what she was doing and saying inside that nuthouse. Even if for no other reason than for his own kicks. Just to make it even clearer to her and those who thought she was safe, that even in there she wasn't. She was still his. It was his right to hear and see what she was doing, who she was talking to. Grinning to himself, he closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he'd put his plan into action. No one would be able to say he was breaching the restraining order, as he wouldn't be making any contact with her at all. Even the third-party clause would not be able to be proven, as no one would even know he was having her watched. Not even herself. He knew the people he'd hired would be able to do this and keep his name out of it, as easily as he would sleep tonight. So, with a contented smirk, he proceeded to do just that.

…

One week later.

"Hey Jack," Danielle said to the guard as he opened her door instead of the food hatch to take her dinner tray. This was one of two things the doctors had done recently to prove that she was not here as a prisoner. The other was that she was now eating her food off real dishes, not crap plastic. The knives were blunt as hell, but it was the principle of the matter as far as she was concerned.

"Hey," Jack said. "I expect you know all our voices by now, huh?"

"The important ones yeah," she smirked. "You spoke just before you reached my door,"

"Oh!" Jack sniffled back fake tears as he stacked her tray onto his cart with a soft clinking of dishes. "So, I'm not one of the important voices, I see how it is!"

"Shut up!" She said as she too started to laugh. She liked Jack for his playful attitude, yet knowing he could be serious when the need presented itself. She'd heard snippets of conversation between the guards about what'd almost happened to Rick just over a week ago.

"How can I help you?" Jack asked once they'd stopped laughing.

"Is Dr Stark still here?" She knew it was unlikely at 7PM, but she'd been thinking a lot over the last week and was bursting to get it out. "I know probably not at this time but…"

"Give me two secs," Jack said. "I'll go and check for you." The door buzzed closed.

She took a sip of her second cup of tea. She had to tell someone about all the thoughts that'd been swirling around her mind for the last week. Some nights she couldn't fall asleep until it was almost dawn. Not to mention Adam's twenty missed FaceTime calls. Her number may have been changed, but he was now using FaceTime. In the end, she'd deactivated that last night. She'd had no choice. She'd have to change her Apple ID soon too.

Then there was Michael. He'd been amazing. She'd seen him in the yard every day for the past week and told him the first day that she'd moved because the cell was bigger and more spacious. She was desperate to tell him the truth, but there was no way she could tell him she believed she was, is, falling in love with him. Not yet anyway. But perhaps the killer already knew. Judging by the way he'd held her hand in his warm, strong, and secure one. A couple of times in recent days, she'd wanted to ask him to move into her cell but had stopped herself. But now, tonight, she would.

As she sat on her desk chair, which was surprisingly comfortable, she found her thoughts going back to the meeting with the DV Advisor Stacey a few days previously.

…

"Hi, I'm Stacey. How are you? It's nice to meet you, I'm just sorry it's under these circumstances."

She couldn't resist a smile. "If I had a dollar for every time someone's said that to me in the last three months, I'd be very rich by now."

Stacey laughed. She reached through the still open window and shook the DV Advisor's hand. She was thankful to Dr Stark that she'd allowed her to use this room for the meeting, being in familiar surroundings helped calm her nerves. Also, that the window was open, speakers off.

"Ok," Stacey said as she sat down on the other side of the window. "I've read your file and I'll save the, "I'm sorry for what you went through" speech, as I'm sure you've heard that loads of times too."

This time she couldn't resist a genuine laugh, the first in what felt like months. She liked Stacey already. "Yeah," she grinned. "But thanks for saying it, or not."

Stacey laughed with her then she heard the rustle of papers. "Ok. So did Dr Stark tell you the spiel about what you say to me stays between us unless I deem it to be a risk?" She nodded.

"Ok, good. So, if you happen to have something you want to tell me that you don't want to tell Dr Stark, that's fine and it will stay between us."

She smiled. "Thanks, but I like Dr Stark, and I think she knows pretty much everything anyway."

"Good to hear. In that case it sounds like I'm here to help you get your number changed to stop him from contacting you. There is an emergency helpline I call to get people's numbers changed who are fleeing Domestic Violence. I must do it because I need a special code for ID and only DV Advisor's know it. But here's the thing. Because you are deemed safe, here in Smith's Grove and he can't reach you, your number won't be changed immediately, because it's not an emergency. We're talking within twenty-four hours. So, I can keep your phone overnight if you want, it's up to you."

She smiled at Stacey again. "Thanks, but I can just put it on, Do Not Disturb, and block his number. I already took him out of my favourites yesterday that was hard I can tell you. Took me a long time to do it. If just hanging up would get me bruises, you can imagine what something like that would've done once."

"Well done for being brave enough," Stacey touched her hand. "I know that must've taken a lot of courage. Especially in controlling relationships."

She nodded again. She was glad neither of them had used Adam's name, but then again, they didn't need to. They both knew who they were talking about, they didn't need to say his name.

"Ok. So, I'll make the call in just a moment. You're sure you want to hold onto your phone before the changes take place. Right?"

"Yep, it's got all my music and stuff on it too."

"Ah. The important stuff," Stacey smiled. "What's your favourite music?"

"Um," she considered. "I like eighties mostly and I don't mind take that."

"Ah, good taste," Stacey said. "Take That? Hmm, not so sure."

"Not a fan?"

"Not particularly. My daughter is and she plays them all the time. Drives me crazy."

Danielle laughed at this. Damn she liked Stacey already. A few minutes later, Stacey left to make the call. She waited and a few seconds later she got a text, simply stating DV Help in the Sender's line. It said: We have received a request to change your number, this will be performed within twenty-four hours.

When Stacey returned, she told her she'd got it. "Good," the DV Advisor said.

"Can I talk to you about something?" she asked without thinking.

"Of course," Stacey said immediately. "That's what I'm here for."

She took a deep breath and told her DV Advisor how she cared for and was even thinking she was starting to fall for the most unlikely man. The masked serial killer Michael Myers. How he'd protected and cared for her. "I still struggle to believe it sometimes," she said.

"Well," Stacey said. "He may be a killer, but he's still a man. He can fall victim to caring the same as any of us can."

"You know if you'd said that three months ago, I'd have laughed at you. 'He's Michael Myers. He's a serial killer.' But now I can't do that. Because I'm seeing it for myself. I keep asking myself, why? Is it because I'm blind and he wants to protect me? Or does he really feel something for me?"

…

Adam was furious. Absolutely furious. No, scratch that, livid. Apoplectic even. How dare his bitch think she could just block him, now that she's locked up in the nuthouse, away from him? She was still his, and that was the important word here. His. His property, under his control, obeying his every command. So how fucking dare she? She appeared to have forgotten who she belonged to. Well, he'd show her alright, as soon as she was released. Charlotte too, when he found her. He felt his cock harden at that thought. Oh yes, he'd punish her for daring to block his number, and both for daring to testify against him.

Reaching down, he palmed his throbbing erection. Where the fuck was tonight's pussy anyway? He'd ordered her over an hour ago. Women turned up when he wanted them. He gave them no pleasure, he never let them cum. Smirking, he resisted the urge to masturbate. He'd paid for a whore; he was damn well going to fuck that whore. Pulling his hand out of his pants, he reached for his phone.

"I'm sorry," said the disembodied voice on the other end of the line when whoever it was answered. Today they sounded like a child. Adam cursed silently. Why did they insist on using fucking voice changing software? He hated it. It wasn't like he knew their name after all, was it? It made them sound like a fucking twat. "The number you gave us isn't coming up in our database. It's just blank."

"What?" Adam snapped. "How could that happen?" This news made him even angrier. He knew the criminal organisation he was using was accessing an illegal database full of everyone's phone numbers and who they belonged to. How could it not be showing as her number? It was right there in his phone for fuck's sake.

"It means she's changed it."

For a second, Adam was speechless with rage. What, the, fuck? How fucking dare, she! He forced himself to calm down enough to speak. Danielle Hayward was dead for this. This was disobedience of the highest order. "So why am I still getting her voicemail?"

"It means it's been changed using a Domestic Violence code. Your number will be linked as the abusers, and the call will be sent straight to voicemail. This is to prevent the abuser from knowing that the number has been changed. It's something they can do."

Now, Adam was seeing red. So, she had them involved now did she? What the fuck was it with them? Domestic Violence? What a load of crap! Women were being taught their place! That was all! Adam had always said it should be law. He wasn't doing anything wrong! If they disobeyed a man, they deserved to be beat, fucked, whatever. What was so wrong with that? Men are in control, simple as that. Fucking Domestic Violence! He scoffed in disgust. Stupid fuckers. Women were second class and society are too fucking stupid to make it legal.

"Then I need you to get me a DV ID code," Adam snapped. "So, I can trick them into giving me her new number. How difficult is it?"

"Actually," said the child's voice, which was probably a man although he'd never know for sure, "it's almost impossible. It will require a hell of a lot of technical skill and hacking security systems. Domestic Violence victims are very, very well protected."

Adam fought down the desire to teach this guy his views about so-called Domestic Violence but restrained himself. Whoever he was talking to wouldn't care. Hell, they'd changed their fucking voice because they didn't want him to know what they really sounded like! So why the fuck would they care? He took a deep breath. "Can it be done?"

"We can try, but it'll take a lot of time and it'll cost you."

Adam cursed out loud this time. His, yes, his, fucking bitch was costing him a fortune. This time, the idea of killing her sounded even better. By God he was tempted. He knew Illinois had the death penalty, but Adam was too angry to care. Besides, they wouldn't catch him if he played his cards right. "How much?" He asked the child's voice on the end of his phone.

"Depends how long it takes, but it'll be one thousand bucks before we even start."

He'd do it, but when she was released, he would kill her. No waiting for her to use a rope this time, he'd plunge that machete straight into her damn throat and slit it. She'd cost him so much money with her disobedience, he wanted her dead. "Do it," he said to his contact. "Also, how much longer?" he snapped at the… God knows who it was on the other end of the phone. "Before I can even track her in that place? It's been a week, God damn it! What the fuck am I paying you for?"

"It'll be ready tomorrow, Sir," the child's voice replied. "We had to get all the programming done to meet your expectations and that takes some time you know. It must be something we can smuggle in there without the guards or quacks being any the wiser. This took a lot of technical skill to prepare."

Adam sighed. "Fine! But it better be ready tomorrow. Then your man in there will have it the next day?"

"Yes Sir," the child's voice said. "We've already briefed the person who'll be handing it to our mole in Smith's Grove. His gadget will have a way for him to contact us and we can then connect him to you."

"Right," Adam said. "What about the other bitch?"

"She still goes through that gate every night Sir, no change there and we can't get through it. They have a very strict system to stop anyone tailgating other vehicles. We've tried searching for it on both public and illegal domains, but no information yet to where it leads. We will keep trying though. Do not forget, you'll need to pay us another five hundred in two days for us to keep going on both counts. We don't get the money, we stop."

"Yeah, I know that already," Adam said. Greedy fucking bastards, he thought. "You'll get your damn money. But if you stop working, I stop paying. Got it? I call the shots here, as I'm paying the money young man!"

Adam heard what sounded unmistakably like a laugh before the phone went dead. Little shit. If that really was a boy on the other end, he deserved a good slap across the face. Several perhaps. Just as it did, there was a knock on his front door. That would be his pussy. Good, he needed it. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Right now, he was angry enough to fuck her until she bled, and if he did that, he'd face a hefty bill, or maybe worse from this high-class whore's pimp. Couldn't risk it. But by God he wished he could.

…

Lost in thought, Danielle couldn't help herself. She picked up her cane, unfolded it and rolled its roller tip against the soft wall enjoying the satisfying 'WHACK' it made every time it hit. The sound helped her relieve some of the mounting stress, anger, and frustration. Once she got her Apple ID changed, hopefully this would all be over. The calls, at least.

"Enjoying yourself?" came the amused voice of Dr Stark from outside the door, making her jump. She'd been miles away as she was hitting the walls with her cane.

"Sorry!" She blushed. "I like the sound," she did it again to show which sound she meant. "It helps my stress, as ridiculous as that sounds."

"Not at all," Dr Stark said. "They're designed to be hit. You carry on. Anything that helps is a good thing, right? Jack said you were looking for me?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I want to talk to you, but it can wait until tomorrow, aren't you going home soon?"

"Now we both know that's not true," Dr Stark buzzed the door open and sat beside her on her bed. "You know we have a session tomorrow and you would've waited until then. The very fact you asked Jack to find me now shows that something's obviously bothering you. What is it?"

"Damn therapists," she muttered, but was unable to stop a grin. "How do you do that?"

Dr Stark chuckled. "It's a gift. Seriously, how can I help you?"

"I'm being serious," she said stubbornly. "Aren't you going home soon?"

"That's irrelevant," Dr Stark said. "You asked for me, I'm here. I'll be here if you need me."

"You get paid overtime for that, right?" She asked, suddenly anxious. Her problems weren't that serious, in the grand scheme of things and could wait until the next day if it meant Dr Stark had to stay past her shift's end.

"You're a sweetheart," Dr Stark touched her arm. "But don't you worry about me. It's fine. What do you need?"

She sighed, realising she wasn't going to win this argument. "Can I talk to you?" She asked. "In the office? But can I ask one small thing this time?" She lowered her voice. "Can I sit on your side? Just for once?"

Dr Stark chuckled. "I don't see why not, but it's not that special. I just thought you wanted that side because it's the patient's side and has the water machine and tissues. I would say the paper and pens… But they're not of much use to you, the Braille machine hasn't arrived yet."

This made her laugh. She couldn't help it. "But of course you can. Come on."

She could hardly believe her ears. They must trust her. This was the final proof! She was going to be allowed to sit on the same side of the glass as Dr Stark. She was willing to bet she was one of if not the first patient to ever be given that privilege.

"So," Dr Stark said once they were sitting in the therapy room. She was now sitting in a luxurious leather chair opposite her doctor who was behind the handsome mahogany desk. "How can I help you?"

She hesitated for a moment, not sure how best to embark on what she wanted to say.

"I did what you suggested," she said quietly after a few minutes' silence. "I spent the last week thinking and trying to sort my damn head and heart out. And I arrive at the same conclusion every time."

Dr Stark didn't press her, and she knew she was waiting, and would wait if she needed. She took a deep breath.

"I think I'm falling in love with a masked serial killer."

"So…" Dr Stark said slowly. "What are you wanting to hear from me? Are you expecting me to condemn you for it? Say it's not a good idea? Sorry, I'm not going to say either of those things. You are your own woman, and this is entirely your choice."

She nodded. Her heart had picked up speed. She'll say no, said a nasty little voice in her head. I bet anything. Don't bother…

Something about her thoughts must've shown on her face because Dr Stark gently said, "what is it?"

"I'd like to bewithhim," she said, the last three words coming out in a fast mutter, as if she was trying to get them out as quickly as she could.

Dr Stark chuckled. "Sorry? I didn't catch that."

She took another deep breath and this time managed to get her words out slowly enough to be understood.

"I'd like to be with him, Dr Stark. I mean literally, as well as maybe in the relationship sense. Can he come down to my cell? Even if only so I can talk to him? I must get this out… Or I might lose my nerve."

Stark reached forward and lightly touched her arm. She felt a sinking in her gut and knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"I'm sorry, we can't do that now, for your own safety. I know Michael would most likely never hurt you, but we can't take the risk right now. I know the kill he committed before was because you were being sexually assaulted and it's obvious to Loomis and me that he really cares about you. But right now, it can't happen. I'm sorry. Soon though, I promise you that."

Absurdly, tears rushed to her eyes and Dr Stark handed her some tissues. "Why?" She managed when she could speak. Was this what a broken heart felt like?

"Hey," Dr Stark soothed, again touching her hand. "It's only because it's coming up to Halloween."

She looked blankly at her, not understanding, then clapped a hand to her mouth. She'd completely forgotten. She reflected, that meant she'd been here for almost three months. She let out a shuddering breath. "Shit," she breathed, speaking the word through a long exhale.

"Exactly. But I promise you as soon as it's over, we'll talk again. Ok?"

She shivered a little. She knew as well as anyone the events of 1963 and 1978. Myers normally only killed on or around Halloween unless he had other reasons. Even then she was pretty sure he killed even if he didn't have one. But she understood why her doctor wasn't prepared to take the risk. She, like many she assumed, couldn't help wondering why Myers had killed his sister in the first place. But she sure as hell wasn't going to ask the killer. She didn't want to join her.