She screamed repeatedly, her head beginning to throb. Why weren't they coming back? Why weren't they doing anything for her? But the biggest question in her mind was - why was she in this godforsaken place?
She recalled what had happened that had led her down this path... The three young men in that arena parking lot in Connecticut... Their voices, teasing and taunting her as they stalked her through the deserted area. No one else around... As she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the hot tears as they rolled their way across her cheekbones, she recalled the one guy grabbing her... The other, coming around, face-to-face with her - literally - and demanding a kiss.
It went to the point where she could no longer scream. Her throat was horribly parched and sore, and she had lost all sense of time since being brought into this little dingy room.
She nearly choked on her tears as the sobbing grew to be out of control. She couldn't even move, except for barely raising her head. Her wrists and ankles were shackled to the damn table upon which she was laying. She felt lower than she'd ever experienced in her life, as though she were a trapped animal. Why wouldn't someone help her? Why wouldn't anyone come to their senses and realize that what they were doing to her was simply not right?
She closed her eyes, willing the situation to not be real but a mere figment of her imagination. Of course, she knew her wishes were hopeless, but blessedly, she fell asleep after a few more minutes.
Torrie bolted awake, her breathing too fast - impossibly fast - and her heart thumping like a kettle drum. She was also drenched in a cold sweat, but that place had really done a nasty number on her. She knew she was scarred for life, thanks to that experience.
She felt her dog Rocky stir on the other side of her bed and calmed down a bit. She was safe.
You're fine... You're at home, in your own bed, she thought. It was still dark outside.
A quick glance at the digital clock on her nightstand to her left told the blonde it was little after three in the morning. She sighed and laid back in the bed, allowing her head to relax on the soft pillow. But after the memory-dream, she sensed she wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon.
Torrie sat up again, pushing herself over so that her legs dangled over the side of her bed. She couldn't help but suddenly think of Jeff. The day earlier, she'd received that beautiful bouquet of flowers from him. She had given him a call immediately after to thank him for them. They'd ended up talking for over two hours. Before they had hung up, the young man had told her she was welcome to call him anytime - literally.
She sat there, pondering for a few minutes. Should she call him now? She had a feeling he wouldn't mind, and besides, she knew she wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Maybe hearing his voice would lull her back to it. Not that he was boring - Jeff Hardy was anything but that.
Her mind made up, Torrie leaned across to the nightstand, her hand quickly finding the phone's receiver. She had already memorized his cell number and punched it in. She only hoped his phone was on and that he would hear it.
After three rings, she heard him pick up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Jeff... It's Torrie."
"Hey, Torrie," he replied.
She smiled despite herself. Strangely, he didn't sound as though he'd been sleeping. She couldn't detect any real hint of tiredness in his voice.
"What's up? Wow, you're up late."
"Well, I was asleep," she explained, "but I had a bad dream."
Jeff sighed, sensing what it had been about.
"Ah, I gotcha," he said. "Memories of that place, huh?"
"H-How did you know?"
"Just a hunch... Don't worry about it. That's all in your past now."
Torrie stretched back, getting comfortable in her bed again while keeping the phone pressed against her ear.
"I know," she said. "Um... I didn't wake you or anything, I hope?"
"Nah, I haven't been to bed yet," he assured her. "Can't sleep."
"Oh, you too?"
"Yep... But it's okay. I usually don't turn in till real late on my days off," he said. "And when inspiration hits, I can't sleep unless I jot something down."
"What do you mean?" the blonde asked.
"Poetry," came the man's response. "I've been writin' ever since I can remember. I love it."
"That's great," Torrie said, impressed. She found herself learning more and more about the rainbow-haired man every day. "I'd love to read some of your work sometime... if that's okay."
Jeff laughed easily on the other end.
"Sure. Of course it's okay," he said. "I'd really like it if you read some of my poems."
Torrie found herself smiling brightly. Not for the first time, she was so glad he had been in that hallway corridor that night. Jeff was really a great guy. She'd noticed that she found herself thinking about him quite a lot as of late, even when she was home on her days off. And it usually comforted her when he sprang to mind.
"Yay!" she squealed. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she asked, "What's the poem you're writing tonight all about?"
"Uh uh... You'll have to wait until you read it, Miss Boise Belle."
The blonde chuckled, and for some reason, she felt a little happy twinge at him calling her 'Miss Boise Bell.' She could hardly wait to see him again.
They spoke for nearly an hour. It got to the point where Torrie found herself drifting a bit - not that Jeff was boring her, as that seemed impossible. But she'd already been exhausted. On top of that, she knew he had to be as well. So, they called it a night.
"Sweet dreams, sweet Torrie," Jeff said with a smile.
"Nighty night, Jeff," she replied.
They hung up, and the blonde fell back asleep with a smile on her face.