Corey eased over to him, resting her head on his chest as she draped an arm over his middle. She snorted a little; think happy thoughts? She was drowning in memories of her past, of their past, and he thought she could even find a happy thought?
"Tell me a happy story then," she encouraged him as she nestled closer to him, her eyes closing as she inhaled the mingled vanilla and bayberry scent from the two burning candles.
She knew they'd get through it. Knew that time marched on. Eventually, this would be over. Friday or Saturday, according to the pattern that had been implied. Bad things happened for a week and then went away while their captors probably watched their every move and recorded their every heartbeat.