Brooke crawled a little closer to the pole, sitting up as best she could. She could see him better from this angle, even through the sting of the mascara that had leaked into her eyes. "Please just let me go," she said, her voice breaking as her head fell forward. "Or... at least give me a blanket. Or something! Please!" She was crying again, in earnest, terrified at the thought of being left here in this dark, scary warehouse, all alone. "Please, Master," she added in a sob, hating having to call him that. He was Damon, not her Master. She didn't have a Master. But for now she would play along. She didn't want to make this any worse for herself. When she got the chance, she would run.