Minutes turned to hours and hours to days, all the while I had been stuck in that hellhole of a house. Those same four walls I stared at day in and day out had became my prison.

The best part of my days, believe it or not, were when Bubbas was with me. He kept me company and I actually felt somewhat safe with him. We read and practiced sign language. He seemed to love it when I taught him new words. To be honest, It was nice not being alone. It was when he left to do whatever the heck those people did that my thoughts started to wander to dark places and the fear and worry over what's become of Matt began to boil up.

Guilt washed over me in waves when I thought of him. I'm sitting here in clean clothes, with a full stomach, and a roof over my head and he's probably- I pushed the thought away. It was too morbid. I just hoped he was okay.

"Where are we going?" I asked, tying the laces of my boots and pulling my hair into a ponytail to get it out of my face.

Bubba turned his face toward the basement door and pointed a finger in its direction.

"Upstairs? We're going upstairs?"

He nodded and grabbed his yellow apron off a chair, slipping it over his head and knotting the straps behind his back. We ascended the stairs and stepped into the hall where the familiar sound of the record player filled my ears as it drifted through the house, muffling the sound of a conversation being held in another room.

Bubba held the screen door open, allowing me to step out onto the porch. He's letting me outside? He actually trusts me enough to let me out of the house? That means I'm making progress.

Goosebumps rippled across my skin when the hot sun kissed my body. It felt like ages since I'd been outdoors. I followed close behind him as he moved further away from the house and toward the barn entrance. Just the sight of the building made my heart race.

"Why are we coming here?" I asked a little frantically, my mind vividly recalling the hunger, sleepless nights, and panic attacks I experienced inside. "I don't want to go back inside. Please don't put me back in there." I pleaded, my feet frozen in place.

"Safe" he sighed, "No danger" and pulled the heavy barn door open sending a sea of chickens rushing out and swarming around our feet.

"Aww, look at all the precious babies," I gushed, kneeling down and petting their silky feathers.

He grunted and rapped on the door to get my attention, motioning for me to come inside.

"Why can't we stay out here and play with the chickens, Bubs? They need to be loved on."

He sighed and knelt down, scooping one up and thrusting it into my arms. It squirmed in my grasp, but I held it firmly.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, little chicken. Stop squirming and let me love you,"

Cuddling it in my arms, I hesitantly followed him inside. Sadness and fear overtook my emotions as soon as I crossed the threshold. The scent of hay and mildew along with the sight of my former cage drew my mind back to the traumatic weeks spent locked up inside.

My chicken friend wiggled out from my arms and flew off to the ground, taking me by surprise and drawing my thoughts back to the present.

Bubba tugged on my arm, urging to keep moving as he led me down a narrow closed off hallway with various ropes and chains hanging from the walls and ceiling. The pungent coppery smell that seemed to permeate the barn grew stronger as we neared a dimly lit room at the end of the hall. A short wall and some tarps hanging from the rafters partitioned the two spaces off from one another.

"What is this place?" I asked, my voice nothing more than a whisper.

He didn't answer me and honestly, I didn't need him to. I knew exactly what that place was. It was a slaughterhouse.

I hesitantly stepped into the room, my legs practically moved in slow-motion. His hands fell on my shoulders and guided me forward, pausing before a tall built-in bookshelf containing nearly a dozen different chainsaws. Some appeared to be unusable and broken with their chains dangling freely off the tracts and, morbidly enough, tufts of hair caught in between the links. Others were coated in what appeared to be either rust or dried blood. He waved his hand in front of his collection, brandishing them to me.

"That's a lot of chainsaws. You must be a collector?"

He nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear as he adjusted some of his pieces around on their shelves into a more prominent place.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I paced about the room and took in every unsettling detail: glass jars full of teeth, dishes full of jewelry and other random pocket junk, what appeared to be a new mask in the making tossed upon a table. My eyes fell onto a metal door beside the chainsaw shelf and I couldn't help but wonder what was through the doorway.

A shrill screeching sound made me jump like I was struck by lightning. My eyes scanned the room in search of the culprit of the sound, finally landing on Bubba dragging a wooden stool across the floor towards a table by the door. He dusted off the top then gestured for me to sit. I smoothed my dress over the back of my legs and took a seat on the stool that threatened my skin with splinters if I were to shift around too much.

Holding two fingers up to his eyes in a V-shape, he signed the word "Watch."

Positioning himself before the table beside me and taking a large cleaver off the wall, he began to hack up what appeared to be the ribcage of a large animal...at least I hoped it was an animal. I turned my head away unable to watch. Something told me it was no cow or pig he was butchering.

Blood dripped from the table's edge and puddled on the floor by his feet as he took a different blade off the wall and sawed through the bone. I hummed to myself in hopes of drowning out the sickening noises but to no avail; the sound of it all still filled my head. He turned around to look at me, the front of his apron splattered with droplets of crimson.

"You stay here" he signed, then holding his index finger beside his face he extended his arm before drawing his finger back to his face again to sign, "I'll be right back".

"Okay, I'll wait here for you," I said with a smile and nod secretly shocked that he'd leave me by myself.

The thud of his footsteps moving down the hall became fainter until I couldn't hear them at all. Good, he's gone. Perfect time to see what's behind the metal door. I know the old saying, "Curiosity killed the cat," but what if Matt's back there? I couldn't keep wondering if he was dead or alive. Disobeying Bubba could get me killed, but I at least had to try.

My fingers squeezed into a crack in the door and pulled it open just enough to fit my body through. All at once, the overwhelming smell of old blood punched me right in the face. I pinched the bridge of my nose to avoid gagging.

Giant meat hooks hung from the ceiling and on those hooks, bodies; some were missing arms or legs and some were just torsos. One dangled from a hook faceless exposing a mess of muscle and tissue. It took everything in me not to scream. I threw my trembling hand over my mouth to muffle the cries that did slip out.

I know what these people are. I'd known they were psychos from the start, but the actual danger I was in hadn't sunk in until that moment. My knees felt weak, and I wanted to fall down and die right there, but I also want to run as far away as my legs would carry me.

The sound of chains clanking together drew my eyes to the corner where a large white chest freezer sat against the wall. A dirty barefoot with a shackle around the ankle poked out from behind.

"Matt?" I whispered, my voice wavering.

The rattling grew louder as a thin figure crawled out from behind the freezer. I almost didn't recognize him due to the yellow and purple bruises covering nearly every inch of his face.

"Tills?" he choked out, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper.

"Matt! Oh, God! It's you!" I ran to him, falling to my knees at his side and throwing my arms around his frail shoulders. "I can't believe I've found you!"

"I thought you were dead, Tills!" he sobbed, tears poured from his puffy eyes.

I hushed him and wiped the tears that rolled down his clammy cheeks. Just feeling him in my arms again, just hearing his voice was like being in heaven. I could've died a happy girl in his arms. He was everything I had been fighting for. He was the only reason I was still going on.

"What have they done to you?!" I asked, examining the heavy rusted chains bound around his feet and wrists.

"Here, see if you can help me get these off." He held his wrists out revealing red sores where the cuffs were cutting into his skin.

I pried at the chains with all my might and even attempted to rip them from where they were bolted into the wall, but they wouldn't budge.

"I-I can't get them off! It won't come off! What do I do?!"

"It's okay, Tills..."

"No, it's not! I have to get you out of here before he gets back! I have to!"

My hands shook and every muscle in my body seemed to work together in an attempt to rip the chains out of the wall in one last attempt to free him.

"Stop. Just stop. It's no use." He said grabbing my wrists and pulling me back to his side.

"Don't say that, Matt..."

His hands cupped my cheeks as he looked me dead in the eyes, our faces only inches apart.

"Promise me that no matter what happens you're going to fight. You're going to make it out of here. If you see a chance, you have to run."

"No, I won't leave you here. I left you once and they separated us for all this time. I can't do that again. I can't..."

"Don't you dare say that. Above all, you take care of yourself, Tills. Promise me now.

"Matt, I-"

"Promise me, Tilly!"

"Okay, okay, I promise...I- I love you, Matt," I sobbed, tears rolled down my cheeks into his hands.

He bridged the gap between us and pressed his lips against mine. They were rough and chapped, but I didn't care. I melted into his kiss and the world seemed to fade away. This place, the pain, the family, everything seemed to not matter anymore and all that did was that moment. Me and him. The love between us.

The shrill scraping of metal on metal startled us both and our lips drew apart abruptly yet reluctantly. I snapped my head around to find Bubbas figure silhouetted in the shadow of the doorway, his body nearly filling the entire square frame. His deafening manic screeches echoed through the room as he rushed in, pushing past the hanging bodies and sending them swinging wildly.

It's too late...we've been caught.