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"Finish the story. You don\'t want it to kill you from inside." The words echoed throughout the room. Like the voice of reason, the experienced textures of the voice made the room buzz with intensity. Ethan had spoken, and to ignore his ideas would be a fool\'s act.

"I\'m trying!"

"No, you\'re not. Try harder. What the hell spooked you?"

"Joe! He is... a monster. Anthony, please, you have to save me. I didn\'t tell him a word."

"Cienna, continue with the story. You\'re not convincing anyone, here," I asked her softly, knowing that the tension in the room was close to combustion.

"No, you stop with your bickering! I didn\'t open my mouth. You\'re just using my state as ammunition and accusing me of things I haven\'t done! To think that I trusted you and told you all that shit," she screamed, and grumbled and whimpered throughout the sentence. She was still in no control of her body, but she was recovering, and the glimpses of the non-bitchy Cienna were slowly making an appearance.

"Just like you trusted Joe and the cabbie, Cienna?" I taunted. I couldn\'t help myself. If she was going to be ungrateful and ignore my advice, she could go to hell with her pride and her imperfect memories.

"You-" she scrambled off the bed and threw herself at me, but I moved an inch away, making her tumble over. She fought to regain her balance and stay on the bed, but couldn\'t do so until I lend her a hand and repositioned her firmly on the bed.

"Sit tight and answer their questions before they squeeze your neck like a lemon and kill you." She glared openly at me, and I gave her the cold eyes and turned towards Anthony. He, on the other hand, was staring at me with an appreciative smirk. What he was appreciating, was not in my knowledge.

"So, Cienna. Do you need an invitation to fucking talk?" Anthony said as he turned away from me and looked straight at her. Her head snapped towards his direction and she hung her head in defeat.

"There was blood." She breathed. "A lot of it." Her lips trembled as she tried to resume composure. "He made me clean it," she whispered. Her eyes fell to her feet and tears rolled down her cheeks. "It was all dried and..." she sucked in a breath.

I wondered why I felt nothing. At this rate, I would give myself whiplash. I stared at her face and around the room. Anthony seemed more angry than worried. Ethan, though, was squirming in his seat, looking like he was about to bolt at any minute. And as I stared at him, for a moment he turned his head and his eyes met mine. For the first time since I had known Ethan, I saw fear in his eyes. They had a faraway look in them, and his mouth was agape, his breath coming in pants, yet not making much sound over the insistent sobbing of Cienna. Anthony; didn\'t take notice of the other vulnerable person in the room, but I clearly did. And as his gaze flicked away from mine, I couldn\'t help but wonder if it was necessary for me to stand beside him and give him a sense of comfort. I felt like a opportunist. I had used him as a source of information and yet had not reciprocated the trust that he\'d placed on me. Therefore I was an opportunist, and I felt bad for it. But was it my place of my duty to comfort the tormented man when he was clearly placing the torture on himself by being present in the room and sharing the space with the cause of his suffering. Or it was partially the reason of his suffering and probably a trigger of him remembering his time in captivity.

No, I didn\'t move from my spot beside Cienna. I knew that I was needed right there to handle her and take care of her if that was what Anthony asked of me.

"While I was in the living room, I heard a weird noise. I also heard Joe speaking. I-I went inside." Her gaze locked with every person in the room. "He had her tied—Samantha. And he was... god. He was forcing himself on her." And therein began the sobs, again.