Retribution

When he awoke the next morning, she was sitting on her bed, knees drawn to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around them, watching him as if desperately awaiting a command. It didn't take long for him to orient himself enough to realize she likely was doing exactly that. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Go on, use the bathroom".

Permission granted, she scampered off toward the bathroom. He sighed when he realized she hadn't even shut the door. Obviously, privacy was a completely foreign concept. He reached for his rumpled shirt, pulled it over his head, and without giving further direction headed for the lobby to take advantage of their continental breakfast to find them something to eat.

The spread proved more than gracious so he grabbed a box of cold cereal and carton of milk for himself and filled two plates of food for her, hoping perhaps she could at least decide on what she preferred to eat. When he returned to the room she was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands on her lap. She hadn't changed, presumably had simply done her business and returned to the bed to await further commands. He threw his own food on a nearby chair and set the remainder of the food on the small table.

"Go ahead and eat. I'm going to shower, then we will head out. I won't be long."

He left the door open himself, no purpose in his worrying about privacy if she wasn't concerned. He took longer than he anticipated in the shower, trying to sort through his current dilemma and come up with a way to get out of the babysitting business and back to his real form of employment. If he'd wanted to drag a woman around all day he would have taken a position as a private bodyguard, it would have paid much better than the FBI.

He had just pulled on a clean pair of slacks when he heard retching from the other room. Rushing from the bathroom he found the girl, head over the trashcan. A quick glance at the table showed the problem. He couldn't keep the frustration out of his tone.

"When I said eat I didn't mean you had to eat all of it!"

The girl looked up at him terrified.

"I'm sorry master," she whimpered.

So, the girl speaks, he thought. That only served to add to his frustration.

"I am not your master. Not even close."

He reached down to help her up, sighing when she instinctively drew her hands up to protect her face. Softening, he pulled her gently up and led her to the sink. He handed her a cup to rinse her mouth, but on further inspection found it wasn't going to be sufficient. He took her by the hand, guiding her into the bathroom. Determined to maintain control this time, he kept his voice intentionally level.

"Go ahead and take off the sweats, I'll find you something else to wear."

When he returned with a clean t-shirt, underwear and a pair of pants she had neatly folded the soiled clothing and was standing beside the toilet naked. He turned on the shower, checking to ensure that the water was the right temperature, then prompted her to get in. She trembled at his touch as he gently took her elbow and guided her under the stream of warm water. She stood there listlessly, and he didn't have the energy to give further commands. Instead, he grabbed the small bottle of shampoo and dumped it into his hands, methodically rubbing his hands through her hair. His eyes followed the soap suds as they trailed down her back and he cringed.

While he'd seen her naked, repeatedly, he hadn't taken the time to thoroughly examine the markings that crisscrossed her back. It wasn't pretty; deep welts had broken the skin in many places and the bruises ranged from mottled blue to fading yellow. He rinsed the soap from her back gently, pulled her hair back from her neck and noted additional markings consistent with fingerprints. Sighing, he turned off the water, drew her out of the shower, and toweled her down.

"Go ahead and get dressed, please. I'll go pack our things."

He threw the few possessions he had in a bag and grabbed the grocery bags with her clothing, leaving the soiled garments where they folded in the bathroom for housekeeping to discard. Tossing the bags into the back of the car he headed back into the room. She stood at the door of the bathroom, now fully dressed.

"Ready to go? Our stuff is in the car."

"Yes mas...sir".

Still over the top, but he couldn't ask for miraculous changes all at once. Sir would do for now. She followed him out to the car like a lost puppy dog. He opened the door for her, letting her settle in before he walked around to the driver's side door.

Attempting to carry on a conversation seemed pointless, so he simply turned on the radio and proceeded to ignore his passenger as much as possible. Perhaps too well. A couple hours into their trip he heard a desperate moan and looked over just in time to see his passenger bent over, once again vomiting. Her automatic response was completely desperate, flinging her hands over her head she buried her head between her knees obviously expecting a beating.

"Well...shit."

It's about all he could come up with in the moment, he was simply pleased that he managed to keep a relatively even tone of voice.

"It's just a bit to the next exit. No worries. Go ahead and breathe and we'll find somewhere to clean things up".

At the next exit, he pulled into a gas station and instructed her to stand next to the car while he went in and begged a roll of paper towels and some garbage bags off the gas station attendant. He pulled out her bags and extracted another clean outfit. Guiding her into the single-stall handicapped bathroom he left her with the change, directing her to come find him when she had cleaned up. Thankfully the floor mat had caught the worst of it, he double bagged it and called it good. He wandered back into the gas station, thanking the attendant and grabbing a few items off the shelf. She came out of the bathroom and stood listlessly by his side as he snagged a few more items.

"More food probably isn't the best idea right now, but something to settle your stomach might be good. Maybe a Sprite or something?"

The girl was seemingly shell-shocked, she barely blinked at his query. Sighing, yet again, he grabbed a bottle of soda and tossed it in his basket. As they checked out the attendant asked the girl if she was feeling any better, having no more luck getting a response out of her than he had.

The rest of the drive was virtually silent, yet again. The girl sipped on the bottle of soda when directed to do so, and other than that stared aimlessly out the window. Finally, they arrived at the cabin. He opened the rear door, chucking the bag with the soiled floor coverings onto the porch. After pulling the passenger door open he walked away, hoping she would eventually follow, and dug between the loose floorboards on the porch to find the hidden key.

By the time the door was unlocked the girl had exited the car, but she stood aimlessly next to it completely still. He tried half-heartedly to smile at her, waving her inside. The interior of the cabin was dim in the evening twilight and he had to search for the light switch; having avoided visiting the cabin for years it took a moment to reorient himself. Finally, the light flipped on and he wandered around the main room pushing open curtains and cracking windows to air out the room. The girl closed the front door, but that was the only initiative she attempted. He sighed again, counting back from ten in his head as he tried to decide what to do with her.

The cabin wasn't massive but did offer a master bedroom and bath off the main room as well as a second bed and bathroom in the loft above. Considering the girl's mental state, he decided the loft was the best option for her, allowing him to stay off the main area and prevent her from attempting to run if she became overwhelmed and decided to fall back on flight, since she seemed completely incapable of the fighting side of the equation. Pointing to a nearby couch he ordered her to sit while he brought in their few bags and the groceries he had purchased and prepared a simple meal.

Once the food was warming in the oven he stepped outside to retrieve the rest of their bags, stopping to grab his cell phone on his way out the door. Standing in the chill of the autumn air on the porch he quickly pulled up James' phone number. He didn't bother with niceties, jumping straight to the crux of the problem as was his habit.

"What the hell am I supposed to do here? The girl's a wreck. You know damn well I'm no good with women as it is."

James sighed.

"Be nice. I know it doesn't come naturally to you. I can't say I know what to do. Sounds like she's broken, my Hannah never broke. Don't push her too far, especially with physical contact. Hell, fake it and try to be a gentle, emotionally responsive guy. You've got to be patient, give her time."

"Time...sure. Easy for you to say. I've got all the time in the world, right?"

He hung up the phone without saying goodbye.