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Roger was pulling her out the door by her arm. He spoke not a word to Elena, which was fine with her. Her cheek still hurt and stung.
    As Alex walked them out the back to show them out, Elena could think of only one thing. Get out or die. She ran to the front door, only to find it padlocked as well as the back door had been. She couldn’t leave out the back where he was.
    She searched frantically for a key, hanging somewhere near the door, in the desk drawer, on the counter. He would be back soon. She ran to the door and tried to pull at the lock, but it was too late. He must have come in behind her when she wasn’t looking.
    He grabbed her arms and swung her around pushing her up against the door, holding her arms up near her head.
    “What are you doing? Didn’t I tell you not to try to run away? It’s in the middle of the day for crying out loud. It’s not even a good plan.”
    His face was so close to hers and he seemed to be jokingly mocking her. Like she would never have gotten away with it in a million years but he still wasn’t happy that she had tried.
    She was breathing heavy and didn’t appreciate him being so close to her. He let go of her slowly and motioned for her to sit on the couch. He went straight to the back door, bolting the padlock and placing the key back in his pocket. Elena waited for the smack, the slap, the punch that surely would come from her disobedience, even though he’d just told her he’d never do that, but nothing happened.

    * * *

    Alex’s anger at Roger had been tamped down by Elena’s illustriously bad plan to escape. It was amusing and he’d tried not to laugh but that’s exactly what he wanted to do. Laugh. She was so petite and small and tenderhearted. She wouldn’t make it around the block before someone noticed her. He’d warned her about it. He knew too that she would try, even if it was just once. They all tried at least once to leave.
    He knew too that she was struggling. Roger certainly hadn’t helped things. Idiot.
    And she was strong willed and eager, a hard worker, a survivor. He could tell that from just the first day she was there. And those hideous clothes he’d gotten her were way too big but she wore them and didn’t say a word about it. He bet that she’d looked really nice in clothes that fit.

    * * *

    Alex replaced the ice in the towel and sat next to Elena on the couch. He held it to her cheek once again, so intense and focused on his purpose. He sat there with her for a few minutes, then got up and dumped the ice, laying he towel out on the counter to dry. He came back in and looked her over once more.
    “It’ll be sore in the morning but you’ll be ok. I’m really sorry he did that. I know it’s been a rough day and I’m...well, I’m just sorry, Elena. Why don’t you go take a shower or lie down? I’m pretty beat, myself.”
    She got up, without a word to him and walked to her bed, tears already coming down before she even got to the bed. She pressed her swollen aggravated cheek to the cool silk pillowcase and felt her chest heave as she was racked with sobs.
    How had this happened? What did she do to deserve this? Why had he defended her? Why had Roger flown of the handle at her over a plate? Why did this have to be her life now?
    She again dreamed that night the same things; the horrid faces over her, the sick noises they made as they violated her and hit her, smiling as they did so. She woke up sweating and crying more than once but pressed her face into the pillow to go back to sleep. She didn’t want to wake Alex.
    That still didn’t seem like a good idea.

    * * *

    The next day she woke and it was déjà vu. Nothing changed. Alex was on the couch reading in the morning, coffee was made. She cooked, they ate, he watched television. Elena cleaned the bathroom and washed her clothes, then sat around in a daze. She decided to ask him why he had helped her and whatever other answers she could get out of him. At this point she’d talk