Leila shivers from the cold, having been secured for well over two hours, and unable to move her limbs. She hears the door of the rundown trailer unlocking. John walks in holding a paper bag of cans, which he sets on the kitchen counter before approaching the bed. Putting his finger to his lips to signal her to be quiet, he removes the tight scarf from her mouth with his rough, nicotine-stained fingers. The smell almost makes her gag, but she uses all her willpower to resist the urge to react.
Slowly, he unties her ankle from the metal bedframe. Walking over to the door, he re-attaches the chain to the handle.
Gratefully, Leila gets up, shaking out her arms and legs. “Thank you,” she whispers. “I was afraid you’d never come back.”
From across the room, he turns to stare at her intently
