A week of work had been too much for his distracted mind, and now he couldn't stand to be at home, where he was fully faced with everything that he hadn't gotten done that week. He thought about texting Chris and a few other friends to see if they wanted to go out, but somehow, that idea just wasn't appealing. So instead, he decided to take a walk.

He drove downtown and parked, then got out and just started to walk. He kept his earbuds in, trying to zone out the world, but the same face that had haunted him all week still wouldn't leave his mind's eye.

What was she doing now? Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she was at home with normal parents watching a movie or lying on her bed snapchatting her friends. Maybe she was at a dance studio practicing the art she'd been so skilled at.

Or maybe she was locked in a room with a man, having terrible things done to her for the millionth time.

He sighed heavily as his last song finished and "Hero" started, just like it had when it had given him that final push to call. He just wished he could know that she didn't need a hero, that she was safe. And if she did, he wanted so badly to be that hero for her. And he didn't even really know why.

Because she was just a girl. And even if she was being trafficked, there were so many others in the exact same position. So why did this one matter so much?

Because he'd never met any of the others. Somehow, he knew that if he had, he'd want this badly to save them all and get to know them personally. He wanted to see them all free, but Shae... Shae was personal for him now. He'd looked into her eyes, seen talent and potential that would be so forgotten and suppressed in that environment, seen a human being that would be looked at as a piece of meat day after day.

He sighed, gazing around the city. All these people, and yet the only one that he wanted to see was the one that he knew he probably never would.

A girl on the street corner caught his eye. Her skimpy, white dress made him look away, trying to respect her even where she wasn't respecting herself. But something that wasn't the dress made him want to look back.

He had halted, his head still down, his eyes still averted. It wasn't her. He was going crazy. He'd been tortured all week, and being around so many people was making him see what he wanted to see instead of what was actually there.

But he just had to be sure.

So he raised his eyes, focusing on her face and only her face.

He closed his eyes and looked again.

It couldn't be.

But it had to be. Her body posture was vastly different than it had been the night before, but he could see the girl from Wal-Mart hiding inside of this one. She was leaning against a building, one of her high-heeled feet balanced against it so her knee was presented in front of her. Her left arm was wrapped around her exposed stomach, while her right hand twirled a strand of hair casually. She looked like the picture of seductive confidence. But it was her eyes, shining in the street lights, that gave her away. While she fought to keep them up, they gravitated towards the ground, written with fear, pain, and utter shame.

His mind started firing faster than he could keep up with. What did he do? Call the police? What if someone picked her up before them? What if someone saw them coming and pulled her away? Try to get her away himself? If he did that publicly, someone might be watching her, and then he could get them both killed.

He needed to get her alone, and then he needed to get the authorities involved.

Frantically, he checked his pocket. He had his wallet, thank heaven. And he'd pulled out several hundred dollar bills earlier in the week. He hadn't even really know why. But now he did.

This was stupid. It wasn't the way they told you to do it. But it was the best way he could think of to guarantee Shae's safety.

He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on. He wasn't wearing a hoodie, but if he disguised his accent, he should be able to pull it off.

So he took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and approached her.

"How much?" He lowered his voice as well as putting on the American accent, hoping desperately that she wouldn't recognize it. Not yet.

She glanced at him, obviously deciding how much she could take him for. It broke his heart to see her so good at this game. And it made him sick to even pretend to be a player in it.

"Two hundred would get you an hour," she said at last, her tone silky and fake.

"How about three hundred for two?" he asked.

He wanted to get her for as long as he could without it getting suspicious, so that they'd have as much time as they needed before people started missing her.

She considered the offer, then shrugged. "Deal."

It hurt something deep inside of him to see her sell herself so readily.

"Lead the way," he directed, forcing a sly smile that made him sick as it passed his lips.

She nodded, turning away from the street and leading him down an alleyway and up the stairs of a tiny, filthy motel. She slipped a keycard from her dress and slid it into one of the doors, unlocked it and going inside. She knelt before a bag at the foot of the bed as Tom closed the door behind them.

"Money on the nightstand."

He moved to obey, then slid off his sunglasses and tucked them away while her back was still turned. Losing the fake accent, trying not to scare her, he addressed her.

''Shae, it's okay. Leave that. I don't want to... I'm just here to help."

She spun around in fear and surprise, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. Shock and terror filled her eyes.

"Shae, Shae, it's alright," he told her steadily, not moving towards her. "Just sit down, alright, Love? I just wanna talk."

She stayed frozen for a long moment. "How... how are you here?" she asked finally. The shame was once again taking over the look in her eyes.

"I was out for a walk," he explained steadily, "and I saw you, and I wanted to help. Okay?"

Another long silence, before she nodded slowly, timidly. "Okay..."

"So will you sit down with me?" he asked gently.

Hesitantly, she sank down on the edge of the bed. Still leaving a safe distance between them, Tom did the same.

"Okay," he said softly. "Just tell me a few things, alright? First, you don't want to be doing this, do you?"

She hesitated, but seemed to know she couldn't lie to him. "I... no." She stared at the carpet, tears filling her eyes.

"You've been sold into it, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Will you let me get you out?"

"How?"

"I have a number to call. We're gonna stay in here, and they're gonna get us from here. And I'm gonna protect you, no matter what. Okay?"

This hesitation was longer than any of the others. She stared at the floor, desperately fighting tears, her face written with turmoil.

"I didn't think this was ever going to end," she whispered finally.

Slowly, gently, he reached out and took her hand. "It is, Shae," he murmured to her. "You just have to let me help. Please."

Another long silence, before she finally looked up at him, fear written in those pain-filled eyes. "Okay."

A great weight seemed to lift off of him, as he squeezed her hand. "Thank you. Thank you."

He rose from his seat, slipping his phone from his pocket, and crossed the room to call, hoping not to risk triggering Shae or freaking her out.

His fingers trembled as he found the contact in his phone. His mind was still struggling to comprehend that all of this was really happening. She'd felt so out of his reach for the past week, and now she was sitting, shaking, just across the room from him, so close to being free.

He couldn't mess this up. He had to get it right.