It turned out to be a troubled and restless sleep. The bed creaked with every toss and turn she made, the promise that Carter would be back to perform some other type of assault always forefront in her mind. Visions of what else could come-to-be plagued her. And when she decided she wasn’t going to get any rest, all she could think about were the possible plans he had for her.

She didn't know how much time had passed, how much longer she would be free of his presence. While she tried to treasure those moments, her anxiety went into overdrive making it impossible.

Every little noise made her jump, made her heart race. She cowered against the wall each time she thought the cellar door opened, which was almost every minute, or heard a creak on the stairs. Of course it was all in her head. He never made an appearance.

Like a song on repeat, her mind kept flashing pictures of his facial expressions as he had taken advantage of her, the look he'd had as he licked his fingers. The tone in his voice as he'd said that was just a tease might have been the worst. That re-sparked the merry go-round emotions and worries.

Feeling sick, but too worried to do anything about it, Sloane slouched on the bed, doing her best to tamper it all down. If she tried to get his attention to allow her to use the bathroom, she felt he’d see it as an invitation for him to have his way.

Like the rest of Sloane's imprisonment, time was lost. Her stomach now ached from hunger as it churned from anxiety. It made her restless and further messed with her mind.

Every thought she had led back to the cellar and Carter. She couldn't think about Danielle without realizing there was a good chance she'd never see her again. She couldn't think about all the places she still wanted to go hike without realizing she wasn't going to experience them or hike again. All her mind kept coming to was that she was going to remain trapped in the cellar with Carter as her captor.

But she hadn't thought about the sexual abuse he had and was capable of inflicting on her. The terror that had gripped her mind and body was being overtaken by severe depression.

In his usual, creepy habit, he stared down at her as she woke up. Immediate dread coursed through her body, bile burning her throat and nose. Before she could swallow it down, it spewed from her mouth. Another course of dread shocked her as she stared at the sticky greenish fluid that coated her hand.

"You okay?" Carter reached out, careful not to touch the mess.

Sloane felt weak, drained from all the emotions she'd experienced since his last visit. She wanted to throw up again; her stomach twisted and saliva filled her mouth.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up." He stood and she heard the sound of her shackle falling away. Within seconds, he leaned down, sliding his arms beneath her.

Her mind screamed no and shirked away from him, but her body didn't listen. Without any strength to push him away or hold onto him, she was lifted, cradled against his chest.

When she opened her eyes, she realized that she'd passed out at some point. Carter had her propped against him, water just touching the bottom of her breasts. It took her a minute to realize that he had stripped them both and they were in the bathtub.

The feeling of a soft cloth rubbed against her arm and the smell of bourbon and vanilla soap filled her nostrils. A part of her just wanted to relax there, enjoy the smell. But the last sane part of her knew this was bad.

Her body tensed in a myoclonus shiver, causing him to wrap his arms around her and rest his chin against her shoulder.

“Are you cold?” The plop of water dripping from the cloth he still held had an odd, calming effect on her.

She swallowed hard and stared straight at an imagined stain on the tiled wall. “No.”

He placed his lips against her neck before removing his embrace. The slow strokes resumed as he went back to washing her.

The apprehension was heavy, making Sloane feel sick again. She told her arms to push him away, but nothing happened. She wanted to scream, sure that it still wouldn’t do any good. But even as she willed her vocal cords to work, nothing happened. Frustration grew as his hands continued to roam about her body.

He’d made no sexual advances but that didn’t stop her from fearing that he would. After all, they were naked, skin against skin, in a bathtub. And he was washing her.

Before she was able to decide what her next move was, he was pushing her forward with a gentleness that contradicted the actions that scarred her memories. He swiped the cloth across her shoulders and back. He was done in seconds and began scooping water up to pour over her. He ran his hand along her skin where the water rinsed away the soap.

Her body tensed, unsure if he’d make a move or not. After several shuddering breaths and dry swallows, he was done. He was careful as he got out, never taking a hand away from her back to keep her from falling. Once he was standing on the outside of the tub, he turned to her, pulling the plug from the drain before bracing his hands under her arms.

“You’re gonna have to help some so we don’t fall.” His eyes were full of caring and maybe even a little worry.

All she could do was nod. She used what little strength she had to push herself up, but it wasn’t much. He grunted with the effort from the awkward position, but he held her with a firm embrace once he had her out of the tub.

He managed to dry her off and then carry her to the living room where he laid her on the couch. She realized that they were both still in the nude and worried that he planned to leave her that way. There was a blanket along the back of the couch and she reached for it.

He grabbed it before she could, causing a tremor of fear to course through her body before he spread the blanket over her. He turned away, swiping the towel across his arms and torso as he walked back to the bathroom.

It was a few minutes before she felt him lift her again, the blanket still covering her. She wasn’t sure where he was taking her, but she was sure that there was something coming that she didn’t want. He was still naked.

She heard the cellar door open followed by the creaking on the stairs as he began to descend. A few moments later, he placed her on the bed and put the shackle on her ankle.

A small scoff escaped as she tried to roll over. But he laid down beside her and pulled her against him.

Her body stiffened and her breaths became short gasps. But all he did was hold her and place small kisses on her forehead. “I’m sorry you don’t feel good. Just rest.”

It took a while before she was able to relax, but she did, even snuggling into him a little. He ran his fingers through her hair as his other hand traced small circles along her shoulder, lulling her into a false illusion that all was okay.

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Banner photo found at https://www.greenplumbingnj.com/your-slow-draining-tub-could-be-trying-to-tell-you-something/