The room was dark when Sandra opened her eyes and immediately pain began filtering into her consciousness from various parts of her body. She grunted and pushed up onto one elbow and held her breath. Her breasts hurt, her thighs burned and her face felt thick and puffy. She hitched her way to the end of the bed and levered up onto her feet, groaning and almost falling over. When she reached the bathroom and flipped on the light her breath caught again at the monster in the mirror.

The left side of her face was swollen and the eye was red. Her lipstick was all over her mouth and chin and her hair looked like it had been brushed with an electric fan. The only top she had hung in tatters from her shoulder and her torn bra was down around her waist.

Sandra leaned hard on the sink and turned on the cold water. The cloth sent a wave of short relief through her head as she placed it on the puffy cheek and she edged back to where she could sit on the toilet lid. Things just had to change—and fast.

Gabe was a psycho and the longer she was with him the worse it was going to get, although the way she felt right then it didn't seem possible. She soaked the cloth in cold water again and held it on her face, rocking back and forth until the fog in her head began to break up and she could hold a thought for a reasonable length of time.

When Gabe came back to the room she was sitting in the chair with the sheet from the bed wrapped around her and the cloth on her face. He made a rude sound and tossed a shopping bag on the bed then went to the dresser, removing a bottle from a brown paper bag.

"Reassessed your role on this team yet?"

She didn't answer.

He tipped a generous amount from the bottle into a glass and leaned on the dresser looking at her. "Just to clarify things, the only thing you get half of is the front seat of the car. Next time you want to talk back about what you get just remember last night."

She jerked her head up and shot a look to the window. Last night? How long was I out? She watched him drink and then he capped the bottle and set it aside.

"I got you some stuff to wear since the crap you had got in my way." He picked up the shopping bag and tossed it on her lap. "Put it on; let's see how it looks. There's some makeup crap in there too. Actually, this'll help with the disguise, eh? Mrs. Maxwell had a fall. Ooh, too bad, such a nasty bruise."

She slowly lifted the bag and stood from the chair. Her legs shook and the pain in her face and groin made her gasp slightly.

"C'mon, hurry up for Christ's sake." Sandra moved to the bathroom and closed the door. "Oh, suddenly Miss Modesty." He made a nasty sound with his mouth. "Just hurry up, bitch."

In the shopping bag Gabe had provided were navy slacks, a short-sleeved blouse in blues and yellows, a set of racy lingerie all lace and frills and a pair of yellow sling heel sandals. Foregoing the silly, strip club bra, she tucked the lingerie into the empty shopping bag and put on the rest. Surprisingly he'd managed the correct sizes and the outfit was not unpleasant to look at, at all. Some saleswoman must have advised him, she sighed, brushing her hair, he couldn't pick his nose without direction.

The makeup was generic in shade, likely because he couldn't answer any of the questions from the saleswoman properly, but with the mascara and lipstick she managed to regain some attractiveness to her battered features. She went back into the bedroom and stood unhappily by the door.

"Oh boy, aren't you the fashionista." He handed her the credit cards he was holding and told her to get busy.

"I can barely walk, Gabe. I need more rest. What the hell did you do to me?"

"What I'm gonna do a lot more of if you don't get movin'". The threat was not made with any humour and Sandra found her purse and walked painfully to the door.

"Do I get a ride?"

"When you get back," he snarled, waving her out.

******

Curtis Martin saw the young woman enter the bank and hesitate before coming to his window at the counter. She was walking as though in pain and the bruise on the side of her face made him feel uncomfortable as she put her purse on the shelf and opened up her wallet. Until now his morning, every morning for that matter, had been one of repetitious, mundane procedures that continually ate away at his soul.

He envied his co-workers for their ability to carry on their lives regardless of their environment. The women, all young and fashionable, openly flirted with the men, all young and hungry but nobody bothered with Curtis.

Like all through his school years, Curtis was the odd man out. The one girlfriend had been a set up and only to have him ridiculed cruelly in front of his peers. This woman reminded him of himself. Timid. Nervous and in need of a friend.

"I'd like to get three hundred in cash please." She pushed the credit card across the counter and tried to smile,

Curtis looked at the card and then at her. "I need some ID, Miss."

She nodded and lifted the flap on the wallet so he could see the driver's license. The plastic was slightly yellowed and with her face swollen and discoloured the picture was maybe fifty percent authentic. He leaned closer then glanced at her, seeing the almost desperate look on her face and let out a slow breath.

"Three hundred, Miss...?"

Sandra hesitated and then answered, "Maxwell. Yes, please."

He looked at her again when she didn't correct his address and then pulled a piece of paper over and wrote something, passing it to her.

Sandra took it automatically and read the words: Coffee shop around corner. Ten minutes. I want to help. She looked up at him and he was checking to make sure they weren't attracting attention then he nodded and offered a sympathetic smile. She picked up the credit card and hurried out of the bank without a backward glance. What did he mean he wanted to help? Gabe would kill her for sure if she didn't get any money. She stood in the street undecided and then headed for the coffee shop for no coherent reason.

Curtis came through the door and spotted her immediately and his face lit up as he made his way to her corner table.

"I'm really glad you came," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting next to her. "I'm Curtis Martin." He held up a tentative hand waiting for her introduction.

"Arlene Maxwell." She kept her hands on her lap.

Curtis stared at her, at the bruised and swollen cheek and the red-rimmed eyes. Her hair had been brushed but with a token effort. Even the makeup, in this light, was a poor attempt. He thought she'd look quite beautiful if it was properly applied. Her eyes were a pale greeny brown and she had very attractive cheekbones... at least as far as he could tell from the one good side. He took a breath and clasped his hands in front of him.

"Listen, I uuh... I know that's not you on the license. Not, Mrs. Arlene Maxwell, and I think I can safely say that from your appearance you're in some kind of trouble. I'd like to help."

She stared at the table, keeping her eyes away from his. "Why?" How did she attract these people, Gabe, the violent bully and now this guy, the nerdy creep?

He gave a short laugh. "Tell you the truth I don't really know. I just feel like I want to help you." Curtis sat back and coughed, clearing his throat. "Look, I've got thirty minutes for break, can I buy you something? Coffee? Something to eat? We can talk about your problem..." her head came up sharply. "Or not. Just conversation?"

Sandra thought about Gabe and how he would lift off if she returned empty-handed and then she thought about this dorky Samaritan beside her. Maybe this was an opportunity to dump Gabe. Dorky trumped another beating for sure.

"I wouldn't mind a coffee... and maybe a bagel or something."

He rose instantly. "Sure thing. Wait right here and I'll get it."

She relaxed slightly, shifting her purse off her shoulder and onto the empty chair on the other side and watched Curtis Martin grab a tray and begin placing their order with a jerky enthusiasm. Play this right, Sandra thought, and you might just get your money anyway and a new place to hide out. Anyplace away from Gabe would be preferable. He hurried back to the table, setting out her coffee and bagel carefully in front of her with a couple of paper napkins and then sat himself, putting the tray on the next table.

"Sesame was all they had."

"Its fine. Great. Thanks."

"You sure? I could get a croissant or something?"

"No, really." She took a bite and the pain shot up her jaw and she winced.

"Jeez that looks awful sore, maybe some soup or something would be better." He was watching and fidgeting nervously.

She closed her eyes and waved a hand. "Mmnuh, It's okay." She chewed slowly and washed it down with a swig of coffee.

"How uh- how did you get that?" Curtis looked so genuinely concerned, she almost started to cry and he reacted to her expression by shifting his chair around next to hers and putting an arm around her shoulder, murmuring a string of soothing clichés.

By the end of Curtis's break Sandra had allowed him to commit her to waiting in his apartment until the end of his shift and they would work out a solution to her problem. Gabe had been painted in very broad stokes as the abusive bastard he was, omitting of course her deeper involvement.

Curtis had puffed up with angry belligerence, vowing all kinds of boastful threats if they should ever meet and Sandra felt a little sorry for lying; she knew that if they ever did meet, Gabe would shoot him without a blink. But right now, Curtis Martin could just be her freedom song and she was going to play that tune for all it was worth.