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“I wondered when you might come and see us,” smiled Winter. “Did Yori send you?”

“Yori, Nathan and the others. I don’t want to bring up painful memories for you, Winter.”

“They will always be painful memories, Nash but I’ve learned to handle them. I can thank Hiro for that,” she said smiling at her husband.

“I want to help her.”

“You are helping her,” said Hiro. “You’re here for her. You’re not threatening her and you’re being patient. Just keep doing that.”

“But she seems almost worse than when she got here.”

“She is,” nodded Winter. “She’s worse because Bree and Ashley are forcing her to speak about it. Every time she relives that day, the wounds open again and bleed.”

“Then why make her relive it?” he asked, frustrated by it all.

“If she doesn’t, Nash, it will eat her alive. She’ll continue to fold into herself and hide from the world. She’s too young to do that. Too full of life, love, and goodness to hide. Don’t allow her to do that.”

“Winter, I can’t force her to speak with me,” he said shaking his head.

“I don’t want you to force her. I just want you to be there for her. She’s going to crumble at some point.” Nash just stared at the couple unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Listen, Nash. When Winter arrived here she was a shell of what you see now. She barely spoke to anyone other than Keegan. She kept her hair over her face, she hid the marks and tattoos that had been placed on her.”

“Tattoos?”

“My grandfather’s motorcycle club put an ownership tattoo on me. Hiro bought the laser machine that took it off,” she said smiling at her husband. “That’s how I knew he would never harm me. Also, he didn’t push me. He was there, ready in case I fell. But he never pushed me. I think the turning point for me was the day I screamed.”

“Dear God,” muttered Nash. “You screamed?”

“It’s not what you think. I screamed to let out everything I had held in. You see, my grandfather delighted in hearing the women cry or scream. Me included. I was caged, forced to be without clothing and food, beaten, raped, and sodomized.” Nash had tears in his eyes shaking his head.

“Winter, I’m so fucking sorry,” he wept.

“I know,” she smiled, touching his arm. “I was lucky. I had all these people to help me. I’ve watched the film of Jenna. It was-it was horrible but I noticed something. Although she attempted to fight back, she never screamed. Never.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“We think that she was probably taught that screaming was not appropriate,” said Hiro. “The convent would have encouraged her to be a quiet, well-behaved sister. Even while being beaten and raped, she didn’t let go of that. If I had to guess, she was most likely praying that God would help her. That’s why she’s lost her faith right now.”

“What if those men find her?” asked Nash. “What happens if she actually has to face that guy in a courtroom? I’m not sure she can manage that. She thinks she’s doing well, managing things well, but I don’t think she is at all.”

“I can’t answer that,” said Hiro. “You being there for her makes a difference. All of us being there for her. She won’t crumble but if they have a good attorney, she might find it difficult to speak about the details.”

“I don’t want her to go through that. It’s not right,” he said. “Did you face your grandfather?” Winter smiled and nodded.

“Not in a courtroom, but I faced him. I stood in front of him and let him know that he would never touch me, or any woman ever again. Then I shot him.” Nash smirked at the tiny woman.

“Good for you,” he grinned.

“It felt wonderful,” she said. She looked up to see Jenna seated on the dock and kissed her husband. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to offer a makeover for Jenna. Hair, nails, make-up, all of it. It usually makes a woman at least feel better for a while.”

They watched as she walked toward the woman who was seated with her head down, not looking at anything except her feet.

“She won’t be able to handle the courtroom, Hiro.” He nodded as they turned to see the man walking toward them.

“I have an idea.”

Weaver Crup pushed what passed for food, around on his plate. He was losing weight every day trying to avoid the slop they were feeding him. His old man promised that he’d have him out and he trusted him. He wouldn’t lead him on.

Twenty-six and the bastard son of the head of one of the most vicious one-percenter clubs made him feared by many. For the rest, he was their daily target. Fortunately, he’d learned to fight and that was keeping him alive and preventing him from being raped.

When the alarms went off, again, he knew someone was doing something fucking stupid.

“In your cells!” yelled the guard. “Crup! Move!”

“I’m moving. Fuck!” he growled.

He walked up the steps to the level of cells above them and took a seat inside his own cell. When his cellmate didn’t arrive, he wondered if it was him causing the problems. He seriously doubted it. The guy was afraid of his own shadow.

The doors closed and the locks were engaged, the sirens still blaring. He leaned his head against the wall and let out a long sigh.

“I fucking hate this place.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be leaving soon,” said the voice.

He jumped up looking around the cell then moved to the bars. No one was there. Walking back to his bunk, he sat back down and shook his head.

“Hearing things, Weaver?”

“Who is that? Who’s there?” he called.

“Ain’t nobody anywhere, Crup,” yelled the inmate in the cell next to him. “The guards are taking care of something. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”

“You raped that nun, Weaver. You beat her, raped her, and nearly killed her. For that, you deserve to die.”

“No. No, you’re not real,” he whispered to himself. “It’s the drugs.”

“Funny you say that,” said the voice again. Suddenly a man appeared before him, only his head but he was there. Weaver tried to lash out at him but the man disappeared, moving out of his reach.

“You’re not real. You’re not real!” he yelled.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Crup?” asked the inmate again.

“It’s time you paid for your sins,” said the voice. “You hurt Sister Agatha and now I will hurt you.”

He felt the burning sting of something on his hand and looked down to see the long knife wound, bleeding on the floor. He gripped it with his free hand, shaking his head.

Then he felt another sting, this time at his neck. From his spine to just below his ear, another knife wound, bleeding everywhere. He kept turning inside the cell, searching for what wasn’t there. Dizzy and losing consciousness, he sat back down on the bunk, trying to squelch the bleeding.

“You’re going to die, Weaver.”

“M-my name is Banger,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“No. You are no one. You are nothing. And you will not enjoy hell.”

He felt the stab and twist of a blade, then another sting as it was brought around his neck, ear to ear. Choking on his own blood, he could say nothing as he stared at the emptiness of the cell.

Suddenly a man appeared. A full body of a male. Naked.

“I’ll tell Sister Agatha that you’re on your way to hell. Just like she prayed. Enjoy the weather.”

Juan watched as he choked on the last bit of warm blood flowing from his body, falling back against his bunk. Blood was everywhere, making it appear that multiple people attacked him. He waited a few moments, then checked his pulse. The alarms stopped and he knew that David had done his job on the alarm systems.

Pulling the stealth netting over his head, he disappeared once more, leaving Weaver Crup dead in his own blood. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no cellmate. Locked inside his cell and dead.