The young woman didn't know how much more she could take...

By now, she'd been in this hellhole for at least a week, although she hardly possessed any concept of time any longer.

She was beginning to lose all hope of ever getting out of this place...

She cringed in horror at the memory of what had happened the other day - when she had tried to fight the bastard again.  She knew he had suffered some minor burns to the face from the coffee she'd tossed at him, and fortunately for him but unfortunately for her, his eyes had been spared.

The woman had hidden in the bathroom of the dingy basement for awhile, cowering and crying in the corner.  She'd been unable to believe that there were bars on that damn tiny bathroom window.  It would have been her means to escape - and perhaps had been her only way out.

And then, the psycho, John, had come in - he'd had a key after all.  There'd been nowhere for her to go, so she'd tried to stand her ground, fight back.  It hadn't done much good, as she'd been weak and aching from everything she'd endured in the past several days - but she'd be damned if she'd sit by and act all docile and allow him to do whatever the hell he wanted without a fight!  She still had that much strength and willpower left.  Because of that - although he'd beaten her badly enough to leave visible bruises, and although her body was wracked by pain - he hadn't won yet.

Yet... Now, she shuddered at these thoughts.  It had been an absolute miracle that the asshole hadn't raped her again, or at least tried to.  But she wasn't going to complain about that.  On the contrary, she counted her lucky stars he hadn't violated her in that disgusting, horrible way again.  At least the bruises he left on her flesh would eventually heal - the bruises in her mind and on her soul would not...

The woman raised her head painfully, her left eye aching from where he'd punched her.  She knew she had a shiner, as she could actually see a blackish bruising at the edge of her vision.  She gazed up at the window above her, its small curtain drawn as usual.  She still hadn't gotten the opportunity to check out this one, but she prayed it wouldn't have bars on it like the one in the bathroom.

She had devised a mental plan on how and when to conduct her examination.  There was a step ladder in the small closet further in the room, near the bathroom.  Sometime, when she knew the maniac was out, she would get in there and retrieve it - and then she would check the window.  Maybe, if she was lucky, she could even somehow get out of it and out to safety...

She also finally realized where she was.  She'd been in Queens, New York, as the company had held a live show at the Elk's Lodge on the 4th.  She realized she was still in Queens.  The small glance out the bathroom window had given her a suspicion of this, and then the asshole had confirmed it by mentioning something of the location.  Naturally, he wouldn't tell her exactly where in Queens this was - not that the knowledge would do her any good if she couldn't get out of here...

Damn it... If only there were a phone down here.  It would be so much easier for her to get some help - she knew when this John character went out - that is, when she was awake and alert.

Suddenly, as though reading her bitter thoughts, she heard footsteps and knew the psychotic bastard was paying her a visit.  Oh, no... She shrank back against the wall instinctively, deciding it might be best to play catatonic this time after what had happened when she'd last paid him a whole heap of attention.

"Angelica..."

God, she hated that voice... What was more, she was really beginning to hate that name, too.  She decided that when - not if - she got out of here and returned to work, she was going to see Paul E. and insist on her stage name being changed.

"Angelica, how are you?" John asked, his voice actually sounding concerned.  Dear God, this guy really was a nut... Just the other day, he'd nearly beaten her senseless, and now he was asking how she was...

The woman ducked her head as the bastard knelt down, and she cringed, shutting her eyes tightly as his hand was suddenly on her face.  So much for playing catatonic...

"That doesn't look so good..." he said, hissing through his teeth as he checked her black eye.  He raised a finger, gently touching it as though it were something wondrous to be scrutinized.

She hated this - she didn't want this prick touching her... She felt the bile rising from the back of her throat and bit back the scream she felt building within...