I very much do not own Heavy Rain, or anything along those lines.

Also, there are going to be some HUGE spoilers throughout the story, so don't say I didn't warn you.

She hated it here. I mean, what is there to like about a depressing motel? The cars that drove by, the smell of gasoline, and that obnoxious sign out front with the flickering lights that spelled out, Cross Road Motel. She knew it all too well, especially because it used to be her only place to go when her husband would have too much to drink.

The only real reason why she returned to the shit hole was to hide away from Troy, an ex-client. He would return to her apartment daily, demanding sex or he'd beat her. She despised him, always acting as if he owned her. She needed to take a break... just for a few days, at least.

She trudged out of her car. "Raining. Again." She sighed to herself. Besides the fact that it didn't get along with her hair, it's been raining nonstop. It also brought back rotten memories. She ran into the little, "sign-in-center", to shield herself from the pounding water, looking up only to see the disappointingly familiar room that she despised once she got inside.

"The atmosphere here is one of concern as there is still no news about 10-year old Shaun Mars who disappeared yesterday. A recent report indicates that the police are now treating this as another kidnapping by the Origami Killer." The 3:00 news buzzed from the old TV.

She stood there in shock, which soon turned into complete anger. "That diseased bastard! When the cops catch you, you better have a good sob story, asshole!" Ranting to herself, she stopped briefly to catch the rest of the story. "If this information is confirmed, he may still be alive as the previous victims were, all killed 3-5 days after their abduction."

"Johnny." She started to mumble, right before she continued to rage. "Three to five days, my ass!" She cursed to herself, slamming the reception bell forcefully. She didn't care for the rest of the story. It was the same thing every time, the police, along with the parents, fail to safe the captured child, and four days later, there's a report up on the TV, informing the area about the child's "recent" death. It all sickened her, especially because she's made the same mistake as a parent.

She watched the green door hidden behind the rounded desk creak open almost immediately, followed by that redneck counter-guy. He gave her an awkward stare-down before almost recognizing her. "Laura, sweetheart. Longtime since you've been here, doll. What can I do for ya?"

"It's... Lauren." She spoke under her breath. She could smell his tobacco breath from inches away. "And, I'd like a room."

"For you, anything." He flashed her a creepy smile and slapped a large pad down next to her from over the counter. "Fill in the registration." The man continued chewing on... whatever he had in his mouth.

She would always make sure her jacket was buttoned up to her neck before she came in, because this was his opportunity to stare at whatever he could when she wasn't looking. Especially when she was bending downward.

He gave her jotted down information a quick scan before he read it aloud. "Lauren Winter, 35, single. How long will you be staying with us today, Miss Winter?"

"I- I don't know." She really wasn't. She just wanted to get away from it all. Sleeping with sleazy guys is something worth taking a break from, no matter how much she gets out of it. He looked into her eyes as she thought to herself, digging underneath the table for her new room keys.

"Room 201. Last floor, stairs on the right in the courtyard." He spat. She grabbed the keys from his tight grip, not wasting another moment to thank him. She's dealt with enough psychopath-men and sure didn't have time for this one.

"Enjoy your stay." He grinned, looking forward to getting a good glimpse of her backside as she walked away. "Pervert." She rolled her eyes as she scampered out of that shack of his.

She took her usual route, up the endless flight of stairs, onto the top balcony. She was out of breath by time she reached the highest point, but still managed to notice the man slumped up against the railing. Squinting, she tried to get a closer look, slowly approaching him while doing so.

She hoped he wasn't drunk, because he was slouching over the oddly designed bars, looking as if he was about to be sick. That's when she stopped to notice the huge gash across his forehead, a freshwound. She trembled mildly, rushing to come up from behind him.

"Sir...?" She let out nervously, reacting to his violent shaking. The next thing she knew, he flipped his whole body around to face her, which caused him to nearly fall to his knees. "Oh my god!" She wrapped her arms around his elbow that wasn't still on the railing. Luckily, she had a good grip on him, allowing her to balance his arm against the cold metal once again.

"Are... are you okay? What... how... um." It was none of her business what happened to him, all that mattered is that she had an ambulance show up right away. "I'm going to call 911, okay? Stay-"

"No ambulance." He nodded in disagreement, panting from exhaustion. He kept his left hand against his chest while his head swung around in every direction. Why didn't he want medical attention? He was badly injured from the way he appeared; bleeding head, and some type of abdominal pain.

"But... you're bleeding. And-"

"Please... just help me... to my room? It's number 207." Without a second thought, she placed an arm around his back, holding his side while the other was secure in his hand. He moaned and whimpered as she searched for his bedroom, trying to prevent him from weighing her down. She felt like no matter where she put her hands, she was causing him pain, which left her torn.

"Okay. Number 207." She gently unwrapped his arm from her and held him by his elbow instead. "Do you have the key?" It took a moment for him to place it in her palm, and once she held it in her fingers, she unlocked the door, and turned the knob.

He limped into the gloomy suite, which looked untouched. She placed him onto his bed as he tried to keep his balance. She examined the stranger for a moment. Messy brunette hair, pale blue eyes, and an unshaven face. Besides the cut on his forehead, he was a decent looking man.

"You're in bad shape." She warned, helping him remove his jacket. "You really need medical attention."

"Must have one... maybe two broken ribs. It's not fatal, but it's sore as hell." He groaned.

"You have a deep gash along your head, and it's still bleeding." She felt bad for him, the pain must of felt pretty bad. Without realizing it, she started to inspect his forehead, accidentally poking at the cut a few times. "I'm really sorry." She seemed to flinch whenever he complained.

"I'll be back with bandages and medicine, just try not to move too much." She left him on the bed as she rushed into the bathroom to raid the cupboards for supplies, making sure to grab disinfectant and painkillers.

"Okay." She called from the open bathroom door. "I'm going to clean your wounds first." He sighed a little. I think the current pain was enough for him to handle.

She took a cotton ball and poured some of the fluid on it, swiping it across his cut very lightly. She could see that he was grinding his teeth a little, so she decided to stop.

"Ain't that bad, was it?" She simpered. He just nodded and shrugged. "Well, at least it won't get infected..."

"Thanks." He muttered.

Once the top was screwed back onto the disinfectant bottle, she replaced it with the bottle of Paracomol painkillers on his night stand.

"And now, take this." She dropped a single pill in his hand, considering the directions recommended only one every 24 hours. "It should do you some g-"

"What is it?" He asked before she finished speaking.

"It's a painkiller. It'll help reduce the pain from your injuries." She sat on top of the table next to him, keeping the bottle in her grasp.

He gave her a look before snatching it from her. "It says that you're only supposed to take one every 24 hours on the box. Exceeding the dose is a little risky." She felt silly still trying to persuade him not to, since he was already downing a handful at a time.

"I can't afford to wait." He hung his head low.

"You shouldn't move around for a few days. You're gonna feel pretty damn sore." She sat on the other side of the bed.

"...I'm gonna take a shower." He tried to get up, but plopped back down onto the cushions because of his ribs. Poor guy.

"Let me lend you a hand." She led him towards the bathroom door, already open from before. "I'll wait here until you get out. If you need anything, anything at all, I'll be out here." She rocked back and forth on her feet, swinging her hands by her side. Let's hope he was still able to undress himself.

She watched as he pushed the door so it would close, but ended up leaving it open just a crack. Okay, maybe a little more than just a crack. She couldn't help but peek in, wondering if he wanted it shut all the way, but she already noticed that he was taking his shirt off, so she just kept her mouth shut. Besides, this would help her patrol him better if he happened to get hurt.

"We could talk... just so I know if you pass out again." She leaned against the wall, trying not to look into the bathroom too much. She didn't want him to think that she was constantly staring at his naked body.

"What's your name?" He called back.

"Lauren." She wasn't sure if she should give out her last name, too. I don't think he cared much, anyway.

"Are you staying at the hotel?" Good question...

"Well, actually, I live in an apartment building. It's only up the street from here."

"Any reason why you're staying?" Another good question. "Um, well-"

I'm a prostitute that is being abused by a client, so I came here. Yeah right! Lying was not a favor of her's, but she had no other choice.

"The building is pretty trashy, and I don't really like the people who live next door to me. I just needed a break. A vacation. I used to come here a lot in the past, so I decided to return for a bit, and like I said, it ain't too far from my home. I'm surprised I even got a room! Anyway, I'm kind of looking for a house, and-" she laughed at herself. "Why am I telling you all of this? I don't think you even care much anymore." She tended to do that a lot.

"Heh, well, I'm... I'm just passing through." He told. "What else do you do, Lauren, apart from fixing up strangers?"

"Uh- I, um." What could she say now? "I ain't really occupied right now. I'm searching for work at the moment, but it could be stressful." He had no idea. "And you?"

"I... I'm an architect." And with that, the water had stopped running and the sound the rustling clothing was heard behind the door. Within minutes, he appeared in the bedroom again, and his cut wasn't bleeding anymore.

"Thanks for staying. I feel a lot better now." He leaned his elbow against the doorway, giving her a smirk.

"Good." She looked at him awkwardly for another moment. "I guess I'll be on my way, then. Take care." She made her way towards the door, stopping before realizing that she was missing something.

"By the way, you never told me your name."

"Ethan."

"Take care, Ethan." She made sure the close the door behind her.