DISCLAIMER: I only own my characters and the majority of my plot. Most things are borrowed.

AN: I'm sorry for the delay. I started working full time again and then hit a writer's block. Fortunately that's gone and I'll be able to update a bit quicker. This story is rated M for a reason. This chapter contains foul language and other graphic material. This is the last update for this chapter, I promise. Unfortunately all the changes I made in Word didn't transfer for some reason. Also, if there are any tiny errors, I appologize. I'm doing this chapter without a beta, and although I try, I don't always catch every mistake.

"I'd listen to the words he'd say
but in his voice I heard decay
the plastic face forced to portray
all the insides left cold and gray
there is a place that still remains
it eats the fear it eats the pain
the sweetest price he'll have to pay
the day the whole world went away"

The Day the World Went Away by Nine Inch Nails

Commissioner Gordon watched through the window as Roger Harper was dumped onto a hard, metal folding chair that had seen better days by the slightly balding officer arresting officer. Gordon didn't have to be present in the halls to hear the jeers directed at the suspect that spewed from the mouths of cops under his command. He didn't blame the cops either; three of their own had been attacked. Two of the officers were on the mend but Stuart Mitchell still hadn't shown any positive signs of recovery; in fact his condition had deteriorated over the past few days. And to say that Stuart was popular with his precinct was an understatement; nearly everyone loved the younger man.

Roger Harper's brilliant blue eyes gazed at the two way mirror with malice, boring a hole straight through Gordon, almost as if he actually knew where he was standing. Gordon observed the man through the glass as Roger propped his arms up on the chipped Formica table, his wrists still bound tightly in metal handcuffs. Everything about his posture screamed defiance and authority.

"Well, Commissioner. I assume it is you that sent your little pigs after me. Mind telling me why I'm here before I lose even more clients today," he asked with a bite.

Gordon scowled at the man. He'd heard stories about Harper that made Bruce Wayne's worst tabloid fodder look like evidence for sainthood. Still, despite the stories, he'd been somewhat surprised when the Batman had sent his evidence over. He wouldn't have thought Harper to be a murder; a hateful womanizer that had a penchant for eight balls, yes, but not a cold blooded serial killer. Still, even the most gruesome, unhinged men could live a farce that fooled even their loved ones until they were suddenly exposed; just look at the once respected Dr. Crane.

Roger looked up at Gordon as he entered the room through the bulky gray door; his icy smirk never leaving his lips.

"Nice of you to join me, Commissioner, I was beginning to wonder when you'd slither in."

Gordon resisted the urge to slap the smirk off of the other man's face.

"Tell me James," Harper started, "it is James isn't it? Why exactly did your incompetent pigs drag me out of my office during a very important meeting with prospective investors from New York, wealthy investors no less, to haul me down to this pathetic shithole? Oh, and James," Harper spat the name as if it were the most vile thing he'd ever come across, " you better make it good or else you might be out of a job after my tee time with Mayor Garcia."

Jim Gordon narrowed his eyes at the threat without saying anything as he placed the brown file on the table top, dropping into the seat opposite of Roger Harper as he did so. Taking his time, he began shuffling through the file, flipping papers, until he reached the one he was looking for and pulled it out.

"It says here, that you were charged with assaulting your former wife, Andrea Harper. Is that accurate?"

"Seriously? You had me brought in for this bullshit? Those charges were dropped," Harper growled.

"Ah. So they were. My mistake. It seems that there was one other assault charge, against a Miss Alicia Davis wasn't there? Care to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly."

"I see. I could always get Miss Davis' side of the story. I believe she lives in Metropolis now, doesn't she?"

Roger's face stiffened. "What does this have to do with?"

"Just answer the question."

"Yeah, we had a fight back in senior year of high school when we were dating. I was charged and got probation." Roger shook his head back and forth, chuckling in disbelief. "What does that have to do with anything? It was over twenty years ago."

Gordon placed the paper back in the folder before flipping through it again. "It seems a bit coincidental that you've been charged with assault twice, all in domestic situations, pertaining to violence against women."

"What are you playing at Gordon?" Harper asked suspiciously.

Gordon removed a photo and slid it across the table. "Miranda Johnson. Remember her?"

"Of course. Alex brought her over a few times."

Gordon slid another picture across the table. "That's what she looked like the day we found her."

"What the fuck? Why the hell are you showing me this?"

"Miss Johnson cheated on your son. Broke his heart. Maybe you wanted to exact revenge?"

Harper pushed the photos away. "Over what? Some silly little slut? Girls like that are a dime a dozen, he would've found someone else in no time! He's a good looking kid. "

Gordon dug another photo out and slid it across the table. "You recognize her?"

"Sure, that's that cheerleader chick."

Gordon gave a grim smile before he slid something else over.

"What the hell is this," Roger bristled, a lock of blonde hair falling across his forehead as he paled.

"That, Mr. Harper, would be photos found at Miss Anders' residence. Rather intimate photos of you two aren't they? I believe there was also a tape, one amongst many, which were found. There were even a few notes written in your handwriting that her friends found in a keepsake box. Tell me, Roger, it is Roger isn't it? That makes her a little more than just that "cheerleader chick" doesn't it?" Gordon paused momentarily, letting the barb hit its mark. "Did you kill Tiffany Anders?"

Roger Harper stared straight ahead, blue eyes narrowed in anger, and chose his next words carefully after a momentary pause, though they were filled with malice. "What you have is circumstantial at best Gordon. I want my lawyer. And you better kiss your career goodbye."

Bruce Wayne attacked the case files with renewed vigor after his breakthrough during the morning hours, however minor it may have been. After looking at the dossiers with new eyes, Bruce was drawn to the file of Tiffany Anders. The brutality of the murder was all wrong. At first he chalked it up to the killer escalating but even then, something about the violence nagged at him. Somehow, with Anders, it was as if the murder were personal in some way. Running with that avenue of thought, Bruce began searching headlines about Tiffany and was surprised to find a photo of her on the arm of Roger Harper. And then some of the pieces suddenly seemed to fall in place. Harper's company owned the murder site, he'd been romantically involved with one of the victim's, and his son was linked to another victim. Bruce had immediately sent the lead to Gordon.

With Alfred's help, Bruce began locating stores that sold Belladonna. On a hunch, Bruce made a list of the ones near Harper's office and other areas that he was known to frequent. He was able to narrow down the list to twelve stores, all located in various areas of Gotham.

By early afternoon, Bruce was shooting down the vast driveway of Wayne Manor on his motorcycle and speeding into Gotham on a hot summer day. He started with the store located the farthest away and began working his way in. After the eighth store, Bruce hadn't gleaned any new information other than a pocket full of phone numbers from eager store clerks and was beginning to waver in his resolve. Still, he would see his plan through. He pulled the bike into the side alley of Henrietta's that was reserved for parking and locked it up. Removing his helmet, he attached it to the back of his bike and slid a Gotham University cap from the pocket of his jeans. So far the fake name and casual getup hadn't attracted any unnecessary attention; most people just assumed he was an attractive student at the University. It would draw unnecessary attention to his mission if he threw around his real identity.

The aroma of Henrietta's assaulted his nostrils as soon as he stepped through the door. The spicy and flowery smells conflicted with each other as if they were warring to be the dominant scent. Unfortunately he was caught in the middle and felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. The store itself was full of incense and dried herbs among a barrage of eclectic items. It was one of the more unique places that he'd visited today.

The young brunette looked up from the book she was reading and stared at him with a smile as he approached the kiosk. "May I help you," she asked, a little too excitedly.

"Hopefully. Do you carry belladonna," Bruce asked.

"Normally, but we just sold our last batch a few days ago," she added, the brightness of her smile fading just a bit. "It's kind of odd," she mumbled.

"What's odd?"

The young girl turned a shade of red. "Oh, I didn't mean to say that out loud!"

"Don't worry about it, it's really intriguing. Mysterious, actually."

The brunette grinned. "Well, it's just that we don't always get a lot of guys asking for Belladonna. It's not one of our best sellers either so we don't carry a bunch of it. You're the second guy within a few days to ask for it."

Bruce treaded carefully with the next question. "Really? Did he say what he wanted it for? Maybe there's some secret cult of belladonna enthusiasts."

She grinned at his joke. "He seemed like the type. He was all mysterious…and just…I don't know weird."

"What was weird about him?"

"It's really hard to explain. At first he seemed really handsome. You know, older, tall, and blonde. But his eyes, they were this strange shade of blue. And they looked cold," she thought for a moment biting her lip as she recalled the memory.

"That is weird. Hopefully you won't have to see him again," he added thoughtfully.

"Yeah. Hey do you want me to get your number and call you when we have more," she asked, the warmth returning to her voice.

"You know what, I think I'll just come back, I'm not in any hurry," Bruce replied apologetically. The young girl in front of him couldn't have been more than eighteen and as naïve as the day was long.

"Oh," she started with less pep than before, "well hopefully you'll come back."

"Sure thing," Bruce said, and bid her goodbye.

She watched his retreating form until he stepped out of the glass door, the bell above ringing behind him. Bruce had hit pay dirt. Her description matched that of Roger Harper, though he couldn't vouch for the coldness in his eyes. Looking west he mentally started pinpointing the location of Roger's realty office from the shop when a siren wailed past going in the opposite direction. He absently followed it with his eyes to see it heading toward Gotham General, which didn't surprise him much. But as Bruce straddled his bike the siren reminded him of something. Some of the victims had been injected with drugs that normally only anesthesiologists had access too.

He'd already found out where the belladonna was from. The next logical step was to find out who had given Harper the drugs to sedate his victims with. Could Harper have been blackmailing a friend or a client that worked at the hospital? Did he know someone on the inside? Gotham General made the most sense location wise considering it was nearest to Henrietta's and Broadway Realty. Still, he'd have to find a way to check all of the hospitals in the areas for missing stocks, though he wasn't quite sure how just yet.

Bruce put on his helmet and started his bike before peeling out of the lot and into traffic. He still had much to discover and the clock was ticking too fast for his taste.

It was the music that had broken Nicole's concentration at the task at hand. It was old music to be sure, the kind you would hear in a movie from the Forties, but that didn't mean that it was disagreeable. The pleasantness of the sound confused her momentarily, and she briefly thought she was imagining it, until she heard a whimper from across the room.

Nicole tensed at the noises Cassidy made. Normally she ignored the quiet whimpering the other hostage made; though the noises were stressful to hear, she realized it was Cassidy's way of coping with her situation. And although the woman had told her little of what she'd been through, Nicole knew enough about the cases to know that it hadn't exactly been a bed of roses for her.

While Cassidy began panicking, Nicole took the opportunity to discreetly slide the long, flat head nail back underneath the area of sheetrock from whence it came. She had been lucky to find it at all, and wouldn't have, if it hadn't been for the gigantic spider that sent her scurrying from the middle of the floor and haphazardly into the sheetrock. When she'd collided with the bottom of the wall, her nails had unexpectedly caught on something and one had broken painfully. Soon, she had found the head of the nail and had spent the majority of the night working it out. After multiple hours and, at the expense of many fingernails, Nicole had succeeded in pulling the nail out of the cheap sheetrock. Luckily for her, it hadn't been secured very well due to an odd gap in between the two pieces that had been hastily thrown up.

Seconds after Nicole had hidden her prize, the door above her opened, spilling light into the room and she shut her eyes against the bright assault. Cassidy suddenly began screaming shrilly and Nicole wrenched open her eyes against the glare. With a speed she couldn't comprehend, their captor leapt over the wooden railing of the staircase and was on Cassidy in less than a second.

With a resounding crack the man slapped Cassidy so hard that Nicole was sure Cassidy's cheekbone had been broken. But Cassidy only wailed louder, not responding to any of the man's threats. Nicole was frozen with disbelief at the scene before her. There was no way she could help except attract attention to herself and she doubted that with Cassidy going on as she was that it would do any good at all. Above all, Nicole selfishly wanted Cassidy to shut up before she angered their captor any further and made his punishments any worse for them. She'd been beaten more times than she liked already in all honesty.

Finally tired of the wailing, the man covered Cassidy's mouth with one of his large hands and began choking her with the other. Struggling for air, Cassidy stopped screaming and the man removed his hand from her throat, leaving behind red indentations of his fingers that were already turning to bruises. Something unsaid transpired between captor and captive in those moments. Cassidy let herself be freed from her bonds without making so much as a peep. Nicole watched silently, stunned that the girl wouldn't fight back. The defiant screaming was much better than this acquiescent silence.

The man led her across the cellar, hand in hand, with Cassidy trailing behind him like a scared and reluctant tot. As she passed, Nicole looked into Cassidy's eyes and could discover nothing except a temporary absence of something akin to sanity. There was no reaction; no feeling in those eyes, and that scared Nicole more than anything.

Slowly, almost gently, the blond man led the fair haired woman up the steps and guided her through the door, closing it behind him.

Nicole stood in the darkness, gulping in air and trying to calm her nerves. In the few days that she'd been here, in this balmy prison, she'd experienced beatings and intimidation—things that weren't exactly pleasant to deal with. Cassidy had been summoned a few times and returned sullenly. Instinctively she knew that the girl had been raped even if she never said as much. She remembered Stuart telling her that the previous victims had been sexually abused. Even if it hadn't happened to her yet, the threat was still there.

But seeing Cassidy mentally break in front of her and submit to their captor terrified her more than anything that had yet been done to her. Cassidy had abandoned all hope.

Nicole sullenly sank to the ground, terrified. Self perseverance told her that with Cassidy mentally broken, she might be discarded soon, as harsh of a thought as it was. And then the focus would be on her. If Cassidy couldn't survive, she doubted she would have much of a chance. Closing her eyes, she slowly blew out a sigh, suddenly overwhelmed.

The only way to conquer and have control over your fear is to face it head on. Nicole's head snapped up as the thought ran through her head. She mulled the statement over a few times and slowly broke out into a grin. She imagined how cocky Bruce Wayne would be if she told him it was that statement that gave her hope. In fact, if her plan and his advice actually worked, she'd give him the biggest kiss of his life when she saw him again.

Slowly, she removed the flat head nail from its hiding place and began picking at the lock of the shackles.

Nicole had been missing for days now. For all the ground and momentum that Bruce and Gordon had gained in such a short time, there were still unanswered questions and time was running out - the next major holiday was only a few days away. Gordon had just confirmed via phone that Harper had been less than cooperative during questioning, especially since he'd lawyered up. But at the Batman's request, he'd asked Roger about Henrietta's and the man had seemed thoroughly confused. Gordon was great at reading people and Bruce believed the Commissioner's doubts, but it put quite a snag in his theory.

Still, Bruce had formed yet another plan. Considering the proximity of Henrietta's and Gotham General, it was likely that the missing drugs had originated from Gotham General. So he called in a favor from Lucius Fox.

Fox had once mentioned that a favorite niece of his was a surgical tech at Gotham General. If there were any drugs being pilfered, chances are she would have heard rumors. And a trusting Uncle was much easier to talk to in casual conversation than the Batman or Bruce Wayne.

Lucius was due to meet with Maureen in the next hour. Until then, there was nothing that Bruce could do but wait. For the first time in almost three days, Bruce settled into an uneasy sleep, if only for a few hours.

Sweat was dripping down her brow and stinging her eyes as she fiddled with the nail in the oppressively hot room when she heard the slight click. She couldn't believe her ears and she slowly removed the nail from the hole of the left shackle and laid it on her jean clad leg. With her right hand, she pulled on the metal bracelet and was overjoyed when it snapped open. Nicole wanted to dance with happiness. Still, she had another shackle to unlock. Knowing what she was doing this time, she was able to unlock the other bracelet in little time. Slowly she laid it on the ground so that it wouldn't make a noise.

Nicole temporarily wondered if she should turn on the ancient cellar light but eventually decided against it. Instead, she shuffled toward the staircase with an outstretched arm until she felt the old, rough, wooden railing. Even though vintage swing music was still wafting through the air, Nicole took her time going up the stairs, not only trying to decrease her noise, but partly due to the fact her ankle was killing her. It had had little chance to heal since its initial injury.

Once she reached the top, she grasped the cool metal knob and hesitated, suddenly afraid. She closed her eyes and repeated the thought that had become her mantra in the past hour: the only way to conquer and have control over your fear is to face it head on. If she had any hope of saving herself or any chance of helping Cassidy, she would have to risk the escape.

Slowly, Nicole opened the door outward, praying that it wasn't a door that creaked. It wasn't. With a sigh of relief, she slowly shut the door behind her until it clicked. Taking in her surroundings, she realized that she was in the kitchen. The appliances looked like they might have come off the show room floor in 1959. Though they were old, they were white and clean, as was most other stuff in the kitchen. It looked like there had been recent repairs to the area as well. She briefly wondered what kind of sadist would live and murder people in his own home. Seeing that the door to her right bore rusty hinges, she chose to pad across the kitchen slowly toward the open doorway.

The next room wasn't lit well, but she could feel the shag carpet beneath her feet and tell that the walls were painted a dark ruby red. The was a cluster of furniture in the middle covered with a white sheet and she assumed that this must have been the dining room considering the shape of the furniture under the cloth and the proximity to the kitchen. Slowly, she turned to the right and headed for the open doorway.

As she moved forward into the next room, the music grew louder. It was a large area with emerald walls and a couch near the staircase. An old wing back chair sat in the corner in front of two large bookshelves full of leather bound books as well as an antique record player with a stack of records piled nearby. The staircase to her right was made of dark wood with a beige runner on the stairs. She saw the big glass door across from the staircase that led into the enclosed foyer and then the heavy wooden outer door that led onward to freedom.

Just as Nicole warily approached the large glass door, she heard the record player off to her left begin to skip. Fear seized her as she listened to the creaking noises upstairs stop, followed by footsteps coming her way. Slowly, she backed into a table, but was able to catch the lamp before it clattered to the ground. The steps were too close to allow her to bolt for the door, so she ran into the dining room and dove under the white sheet.

Her heart pounding, she scooted back as far as was allowed as she crouched on her stomach, trying to peer out from under the sheet.

She saw his bare feet step off of the bottom stair as she sat perfectly still. Still jovially singing the song that had stopped playing, he dusted off the record and replaced it. Glenn Miller started right back up and she cringed at the loudness of the music. He began to ascend the stairs when he stalled momentarily and slowly descended again.

Suddenly Nicole realized that not only was the lampshade ajar, but she hadn't put the lamp in its proper place. The man studied it, the song gone out of him, and turned slowly toward the dining room. Nicole sat absolutely still until he passed and exited the rear of the room through the open doorway on the left.

Nicole's eyes widened when she realized where he was going. She bolted out from under the sheet, miraculously not making any noise and ran with a limp silently to the large glass door; thankfully there weren't any creaky floorboards on the way. Upon reaching the cool glass, she turned the knob and realized that it was locked. Dumbly she stared at the handle.

The only way to conquer and have control over your fear is to face it head on.

Nicole realized her options were to break through the glass and hope to get the solid wooden door open in time or to flee upstairs and find an exit. Her time was up. She could see the small hallway on the other side of the staircase with a closed door with rusted hinges. The same door she'd refused to use in the kitchen. The same door that would soon be opening. Nicole bolted up the staircase as she heard the cellar door being thrown aside without abandon.

The upstairs hallway was dark since most of the doors were closed. There were five to choose from and she went for the one at the end of the hall and to the left, since there was a little bit of light visible from underneath it. Hastily, she threw open the door and found Cassidy lying on an old iron double bed, completely naked, with a vacant look in her eyes. She could hear the bellows of rage coming from below. She had only seconds.

"Cassidy! Get up! We have to go! It's time to leave!"

Cassidy barely moved, tears blurring her vision.

Without waiting for a response, Nicole ran to the window, only to see a two story drop and the nearest town home a few yards away. The only other door led was another entrance to the bathroom that had been at the end of the hallway. There was no exit from this room for them.

Nicole could hear the footsteps pounding up the stairs. She snatched Cassidy up and began dragging the girl behind her. She ran into the room across the hall and softly shut the door as Cassidy just stood there, naked and confused.

Nicole frantically began searching for a way out, for a phone, for a weapon, for anything, but there was nothing. The room was neat and clean and obviously a male's room from the décor. But none of those details helped Nicole when the door behind her was suddenly thrust open.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing in this room?"

The ire in the man's eyes burned through as Nicole she realized she'd accidently gone into his sacred lair.

As he stalked closer, Nicole instinctively stood in front of Cassidy, shielding her without answering.

"OH, Protecting HER again? I guess you really don't learn well do you cunt? Is she even worth it? Look at her? She's lost her marbles. She's GONE. BROKEN. Just another piece of trash!"

"If you ask me, you're the one who's broken" Nicole spat back with venom. "I mean you're fucking nuts! Who the hell kidnaps women and keeps them chained up in a basement. What, did mommy not love you enough? Or did mommy love you a little too much?

The blond man reached out and grabbed Nicole's shirt, tearing it open as he slammed her into the wall.

"Oh you're going to see how functional I am, sweetheart. You see you're right; I do have "mommy" issues. She was an ungrateful whore. Just. Like. You. And you know what happened to her? Hm? She got what she deserved."

Before Nicole could retort, a lamp came crashing down on her captor's head. He dropped to his knees, momentarily stunned as Nicole stood in awe of Cassidy.

"Go! Run!"

And Nicole did until she reached the stairs.

"Take one more step and Cassidy dies," the monster boomed from behind her.

Nicole stopped, peering at the glass door at the end of the stairs. She was so close to freedom.

"Turn around."

Gnashing her teeth, Nicole did so and although she expected it, she was still surprised to see him holding Cassidy with a silver knife pressed to her throat. Running wasn't an option anymore.

The only way to conquer and have control over your fear is to face it head on.

"Walk, back down to the cellar slowly. Don't try anything. If you do, I'll slit her throat," he stated calmly if as if this was an everyday occurrence. Hell, maybe it was for him, she considered.

Nicole obeyed and slowly they reached the cellar without another word. As she stepped onto the upper landing, she felt the kick to her back and she tumbled down the steps head first. She hit the concrete with a grunt and fought the urge to curl into the fetal position.

"You! In the corner," he ordered above her.

She was vaguely aware of Cassidy stepping over her. She was definitely aware of the pain when she was yanked up hair first from the ground. She struck out blindly and made contact. Her reward was a knee to the ribs and a punch to her face. Suddenly she was flung against the wall and felt the cool metal blade bite into the front of her neck.

"You know, you've got spirit, I'll give you that," he purred, his lips so close to hers that she thought he might try to kiss her. He pulled away slightly. "But it seems we'll have to do something a little…ah…different for you."

He pushed her over to the corner where Cassidy stood, trying to cover her nakedness. At least she had returned to a state of semi-awareness.

"You see, hero, she's just a little slut. And I'd broken her. She'd learned to obey me. But then, well, I'll never understand why she tried to help you. But there's a price to pay for everything you do, and its time for you to begin to learn that lesson."

Suddenly, he grabbed her around the waist. "I've been thinking about what to do with you for days, Nicole Miller. You're a hard one to crack. How could I get a rise out of you? And then it occurred to me, that you like to fancy yourself a hero. And heroes always have a weakness. But I couldn't quite find your fatal flaw until just a few moments ago."

Nicole struggled against his hard body in vain but his hold was too tight. With more power than was necessary, he grabbed her clenched fist and pried it open as he stood behind her, the two locked in a hateful embrace. He lowered the knife from her throat and Nicole lamented that she couldn't fight back during this opportunity. With his left hand, he placed the black hilt of the dagger into her right hand and closed her fingers around it. She wanted to slash at him; to drop the knife; to do anything but hold the warm weapon.

"You see, normally, I like this part. The judgment. Oh I've let a few go in the past that were worthy…but now every one of you I bring home is guilty of something. But tell you what: I'll make you a deal. You punish Cassidy-you slit her throat-I let you walk. It's that easy Nicole. Take her life. Show me your true nature, and I'll let you walk out of this place alive."

Nicole stared into Cassidy's frightened eyes. "No," Nicole choked out. "I won't. I can't."

"Sure you can sweetheart! Just press the knife into her neck. Cut the carotid artery. It's so easy"

He held her arm as he lightly demonstrated the motion, forcing her to scratch Cassidy's neck while Cassidy began to quiver with fear.

"No. I won't. I won't take her life," Nicole frantically asserted.

Cassidy let out a sigh of relief that earned a sideways glance from the blond man.

"Oh well," the man said, deflated, as he lowered his head into Nicole's hair and breathed her raw scent in.

Nicole felt the man tense behind her, but before she could react, he lunged, still holding her hand in a vice like grip and plunged the knife up to the hilt into the middle of Cassidy's throat.

Nicole's eyes widened in disbelief as she felt the blade sink into the alabaster flesh with little resistance. She tried to remove the knife as she stared into Cassidy's eyes in horror but the man's strength was too much for her.

Cassidy's mouth dropped open, full of blood that began leaking down her chin, and emitted a gurgle as she fought for oxygen. Cassidy's eyes were filled with shock and pain, and Nicole could sense a feeling of betrayal as they gazed into her soul.

"Eh, this is gonna get messy sweetheart. It's better to slit, but hey I'm not complaining. We'll do it like this," he stated, his grip never lessening on Nicole's body and fist as he forced her to slide the blade through the soft flesh and crunchy bone until Cassidy was nearly decapitated.

He pulled Nicole back as Cassidy's marred and lifeless body dropped to the ground, voiding itself of bowels and blood during its throes of death as it did so.

"Well, how does it feel now, eh hero? What a great job you did for your first time! You understand that you forced my hand in this don't you," he asked, giggling. "You get it right? The pun? Oh I see, my humor is lost on you," he commented when he saw the look on her face.

The man drug a shell shocked Nicole backwards and gently removed the knife from her hand before violently shoving her to the ground, sending her sprawling toward the body.

"It's going to get pretty ripe in here with that mess in the corner. I'd really hate to be you right now. But I think you need to think about the consequences of your actions, don't you," he asked mockingly as he backed up the stairs. "Oh, I wouldn't try to escape again either. The door will be barricaded on the outside, just so you're aware. There's no use in shackling you back up since you found a way out the first time. I hope you enjoyed your little escape attempt. Don't let it happen again."

The door slammed without an answer, sucking all of the light and hope out of the room with it. Nicole tried to get up but her ankle gave out from the abuse and she found herself back on the ground with a grunt. It wasn't until some of the pain subsided that she felt the warm, sticky, wetness on her hand that she realized her hand had landed in the ever growing puddle of viscous, maroon blood. Blood that had once been Cassidy's she realized.

She removed her hand as if it were burnt by fire, wiping at her tattered shirt, trying to rid the life force from her skin as if it were the infected by the plague. Suddenly, Nicole was overcome by the gravity of the situation and began heaving and expelled what little content her stomach held. After a few more times, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sought a corner far away from Cassidy's limp body. For the first time since her capture, Nicole wept violently, choking on sobs and rocking back and forth on the nasty basement floor, consumed with fear and guilt. And then Nicole did something she hadn't done in a long time—she prayed—begged really—that someone would find her before it was too late. It was almost the Fourth of July.