On the second or third night she had been there, her body made the mistake of having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. She crept slowly out of the bed, feeling the cold air hit her skin, instantly giving her goose bumps. She opened the door to her room, walked down the hall, and forgot which door was the bathroom. She soon got distracted by the sound of whimpering coming from down the hallway. She walked towards the sound and cracked the door open enough so that she could see what was happening.

She saw Miguel’s back. She could tell it was his because of the way it stood there. The shoulders were back, and the weight was on it’s toes. It was almost as if his crotch led him wherever he went. It creeped Spencer out. Sitting in front of Miguel, she saw a man tied to a chair. He was wearing a blood soaked button down shirt. Whenever Spencer goes back to that night, she can’t help but chuckle at how cliche it all seems now. He had a ball gag in his mouth and was making the pitiful noises of a child with no home.

She watched as Miguel grabbed a cigar cutter from a metal table with various "tools" on it. He asked the man a question. Spencer could never remember what the question actually was. The only thing she remembers is the visual of a grown man being destroyed in front of her. How he reverted back to childhood, in his bed, face to face, with the monster that was in his closet.

He whimpered and Spencer watched in absolute terror as Miguel wrapped the man’s left pinky with the cigar cutter. The horror and tears that welled in the man’s eyes still makes her shudder, seared into her memory for ever. She heard the crunching sound of hundreds of tiny little bones being crushed and watched as the limp digit fell to the ground.

Always the one with excellent survival instincts, she held back her scream, and slowly backed out of the room. When she finally reached the four walls that would be her room, she realized that she had lost control of her bladder and cried herself to sleep that night. Understanding that she would be stuck here for a VERY long time.

She snapped out of the memory and prayed to god that these two agents could help her. She washed her face trying to wash the worry out of herself. She felt helpless and worst of all, lonely.

For the first time ever, Ashley was grateful for the lack of privacy in a public restroom. She watched the silent battle that took place in Spencer’s psyche. As she bent over and splashed the water in her face, Ashley decided to walk out of the stall.

"Hey," Spencer said as she watched Ashley’s reflection walk up to the sink beside her.

"Hey," Ashley responded.

"Sorry about the attitude earlier. This is all so surreal for me."

"It’s cool. I understand."

Spencer raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, well not totally," Ashley relented. "But, I can assure you that you’re not alone. And that we happen to be the very best at this."

Spencer smiled weakly, "Thanks."

She wished for the life of her that she could believe the small brunette. Still, it was nice. Ashley managed to say the one thing that Spencer needed to hear and she appreciated it.