Home

The neck of the bottle hit the edge of the glass, almost toppling it. After a few glasses of wine, his aim wasn't so great. He hadn't bothered to put the overhead light on, just the lamp standing beside the sofa, so he sat in the semi-darkness staring at the blank TV screen, brooding over his drink.

The doctor had left just over an hour ago. She would be mad he called a doctor, afraid of...Well, whatever it was she was afraid of. He slammed the glass down.

"Ungrateful little cow."

Here he was, putting himself out trying to help her, and all she wanted to do was leave.

"I should have just let her go. I should throw her out right now if she's so desperate to be back on the streets. If she won't trust me."

His head fell into his hands and he sighed in frustration.

"Why won't she just let me help? Whatever it is, I could just fix it."

All he needed now was for the doctor to say something to the press.

"Badly beaten girl held captive in rockstar's home."

He laughed, but it was angry and hollow. That would be the first time in years the British press had said anything about the band at all. He might eclipse Dave's headlines with this one. All he needed now was for her to die, that would finish the whole thing off nicely.

"Maybe God just dropped her in front of the car to annoy me."

The wine was soon finished. His head lolled back against the sofa cushions, trying to piece together the puzzle that was the young woman currently unconscious in his guest room, but nothing came to him. She didn't seem like a junkie, but hell, he wasn't so great at spotting them was he? She was too old to have argued with her parents and run away from home. He got carried away and started to imagine that she was a deserter spy, forced to live off the radar so that she wasn't apprehended by the authorities and silenced before she could divulge any national security secrets. She was a bit clumsy for a spy though.

With a sigh he forced himself from the sofa and up the stairs, the alcohol making him less steady that usual. As he passed the door, he couldn't stop himself from peering in and checking on her. She was where the doctor had left her, sleeping soundly it seemed. Even in the dim light the ugly bruises stood out on her head. He withdrew quietly and went to his own room, dropping down on the bed without bothering to undress, and falling asleep almost straight away.

When he woke the next morning he regretted it. He also felt like someone had filled his mouth with feathers in the night.

"Damn wine."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to feel a little more alert. His clock told him it was still early, so he headed for the shower before facing Angela.

She was so comfortable, she didn't want to move ever again. She had a long stretch before curling back up again to drift back to full sleep, but something was stopping her. An insistent something, jabbing at her shoulder. She tried to roll away from it, but it followed. Tap tap tap.

It was the hardest thing in the world to open her eyes, but somehow she managed, and when she did she saw Martin hovering above her...With toast and orange juice? She squinted at him, convinced she wasn't seeing things quite right, but there he was, fussing over her like an old woman. After she was sufficiently propped up with pillows for his liking, he thrust the breakfast tray at her and sat on the edge of the bed.

She began to eat, feeling rather nervous, since he seemed to be watching her like a hawk. Finally she finished and he sighed with relief.

"The doctor said that I needed to make sure you weren't sick again." he announced, moving the tray away.

"Doctor?"

"Don't get mad at me, I'm not in the mood. You really hurt yourself. Just be thankful I didn't take you to the hospital and leave you there."

"Thank you."

She looked down at her hands. He was pretty angry with her, she could tell. She couldn't really blame him.

"I thought you were going to die on me."

Her eyes flew back up. He wasn't really looking at her, but he seemed genuine.

"Sorry. I had a bad dream. I got scared."

"What was it about?"

She hesitated. But she owed him something at least. She couldn't just put him through all this hassle and then be a complete bitch.

"When you found me, some guy had been following me, chasing me, I guess he was going to try something, but while I was running I fell into the road and I guess he saw your car and freaked out..." her voice trailed away, remembering the terror of that night. She knew there was more to the dream than that, but she couldn't tell him all of it, not yet anyway.

"He didn't hurt you?"

"No. Like I said, you found me before he caught up."

"I'm glad then."

There was an awkward pause before he continued.

"Why don't you trust me?"

"I've only known you for a couple of days."

He hadn't really thought about it like that before. He nodded silently and was about to get up and leave, when her voice stopped him.

"I could tell you some stuff, if you want to know."