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When she finally woke up, sun was flooding the room. She hadn't slept so deeply in a long time. She was still on the sofa, but he had thrown a blanket over her at some point in the night. Pushing it away, she sat up and stretched, feeling stiff from the awkward position she had slept in.

No one else was there.

Her ankle was throbbing again already, but she ignored it and stood, hobbling towards the direction of the door. When she made it to the hallway she noticed, with a sigh of relief, that her coat was hanging on a hook by the door. She grabbed hold of it before leaning against the wall for a few minutes to rest. She was already panting with the effort of trying to move around on her swollen ankle.

"But," she reasoned, "I don't have to get far. I doubt he's going to come looking for me."

She reached for the door handle and pulled, but the door didn't move.

"He's locked me in. The bastard locked me in!"

She screamed in frustration, wishing her ankle was better so she could at least give the door a good kicking, but all she could do was hobble back towards the living area.

She only made it halfway down the hall before her ankle finally got the better of her and she slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall. Tears filled her eyes as her anger subsided, replaced with a maelstrom of feelings she had suppressed till now, not being able to afford the luxury of breaking down while she was out on the street. But here, in the dim hallway of an expensive Edwardian townhouse, she finally let go and allowed herself to be swept away by the emotion. Guilt, shame, frustration and most of all fear. She had been living on a knife edge for the past two months, last night had nearly been the end of her, and still her future hung in the balance. She was trapped in a stranger's house, unable to run or fight, and subject completely to his whims.

She didn't know how long she had sat there crying, the tears seemed to keep falling of their own volition, but she was startled out of her state when she heard the door open, and the winter sunlight came spilling in through the gap.

Her captor stood in the doorway, obviously taken aback to find her in a heap on his tile floor. The pale light behind him caught his blonde hair, a golden halo that contrasted with another dark outfit.

Eventually he gathered his senses enough to step inside, and shut out the cold draft blowing through the doorway. He dropped the bags he was carrying on the mat and walked over to the girl now huddled up against the wall. She was a different creature to the one he met last night. Before she had been angry and defiant, now she was...broken.

She said nothing as he helped her back into the living area and settled her once again on the couch. All she did was curl up into a ball and continue to sob. He had no idea what to do. It had been easy to deal with her when she was behaving like a petulant child, he had just acted the parent and made her do what was good for her, but now he was lost. He reached out for her and rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.

For a long time neither of them moved, but eventually, she ran out of tears to cry.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was hoarse.

"So am I."

"You tried to help me, and I was ungrateful, I..."

"I was overbearing. I just wanted to...Well, I don't know. What I've done, well, it doesn't make a lot of sense. But, I would like it if you would stay. Till your ankle is better at least?"

"OK. I don't even know if I can trust you really."

"I don't know if I can trust you. I guess we just take a leap of faith."

"I guess. Your name is Mister Gore right, that's what the guy was calling you last night."

"Martin. Just call me Martin. What's your name?"

"Angela."

He started laughing. He had a very loud laugh.

"What? What's so funny?"

"You just don't seem too angelic to me."

She actually smiled a little at this.

"Oh wait a second."

He disappeared out in the hallway again, returning with his abandoned bags from before.

"I umm, picked up a few things for you..." he offered her the bags, blushing as he did so.

Bemused she took them and peered inside. Soap, toothbrush, shampoo, a hair brush, he'd even bought tampons. He'd thought of everything.

"You went out and got all this for me?"

He looked really embarrassed now, he was staring at his feet, shuffling around slightly.

"Well yeah, umm, I didn't know what you needed so I thought I'd just, you know..."

"Thank you." She really did smile at him then, and he grinned back, still looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, if you want to head upstairs and have a shower I can make us some lunch. It's the second on the right. Oh shit, can you get up the stairs?"

"I'll manage." She gathered up the bags and headed for the staircase.

Pausing, she turned around and said, "Look, umm, thanks. You're actually pretty alright." before limping slowly up the stairs, leaning on the bannister.

Martin watched her retreating form with a smile, feeling better than he had in weeks.