Michelle inhaled deeply, her pale knuckles contrasted with her dark skin as she gripped the car steering wheel tightly. Tyson's incessant shrieks and pleads rang through her head on a endless loop and while she thought hearing him beg for mercy and watching him die at her hands would bring her peace...she was wrong.

Her baby was still dead and she was still trapped, bound to the agency like an African slave to their master. Despite the pain that her reality brought her, she still managed to smile at the thought of her husband. She managed to make it back to him in one piece.

Michelle yanked the hood from her head and treaded out of the vehicle, the crisp night breeze welcomed her as she turned her key into the motel door. She stepped into the compact room and relaxed in the warmth that immediately provided a sense of comfort.

"Lincoln, I'm back," the brunette's face contorted in confusion once she realized her husband wasn't there to greet her as she expected. But, once her ears picked up on the sound of running water emitted from the bathroom, her expression relaxed. She planted herself at the edge of the bed and ran her hands over her tired face. "I did it. He's gone," she projected her voice over the running water. "And I don't feel any better," she whispered.

The woman knelt down and loosened her shoe strings then slipped out of her boots and wiggled her toes against the warm fabric of her socks. She freed herself from her shawl, allowing it slip off of her skin and fall freely onto the bed before lying down against the comforter and staring up at the popcorn ceiling above her.

What she had done, it wasn't an easy task by any means, but she did it, which meant that they were one step closer to being free. Although the task proved to be difficult, she knew her next target wouldn't put up as much of a fight. While a part of her wanted to spare Martin from all of this death and destruction, the other part of her knew that it was crucial for him to die just like the others. She'd complete the job with a heavy heart, but she'd do it none the less.

Michelle bit her lip and shook her head, she knew that she'd have to do it eventually, maybe even tomorrow, but not now. Right now all she had to focus on was staying alive and keeping Lincoln safe. Right now, both of them were okay and that was enough, it had to be.

"Lincoln, are you almost done?" she pondered impatiently. It had been a long day and she wanted nothing more than to relax in the embrace of her husband and let the events of the night melt away from her thoughts.

She sat up and rose from the mattress once she noticed her husband's lack of response. As she inched closer to the door, realization dawned on her. The only sound that could be heard in the room was coming from the bathtub and not once since she returned had the gushing water stopped. Michelle crept impossibly closer to the door and her socks instantly dampened. Her eyes darted towards the wet carpet that bridged the gap between the bedroom and the bathroom.

The brunette gripped the gun that protruded from her holster that remained snuggly attached to her waist. She clenched her teeth, turned the doorknob and rushed into the bathroom. Her socks instantly became soaked, the white tile that made up the bathroom floor was completely covered in water. Her grip tightened on her pistol as she pointed it into the small restroom.

Her eyes narrowed at the orange and white patterned curtains that hung around the bathtub, surrounding it entirely.  She gritted her teeth, cocked her gun and aggressively yanked the curtain from the security of the rings above it.  However, her hostile expression instantly dispersed at the sight of her husband lying face down in the overfilled tub of water.

Michelle shrieked at the gruesome sight, she tossed her gun onto the floor and frantically yanked on the man's upper body in attempts to pull him from the water. But, his dead weight proved to be too much for her.

"Lincoln, get up!" she demanded as she gripped his arm with all her might, she slid down to the chilly, wet floor while slowly pulling him from the bathtub. His face remain submerged in the water, until finally, her adrenaline kicked in and she successfully wrenched him from the lethal clutches of the water.

She carefully lowered his head onto the tiled floor before leaning over and forcing his eyes open. "Baby, look at me." Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her husband's eyes. She found them to be distant and dull. For the first time, they looked straight through her as if she weren't even there.

Lincoln lied still on the floor, his soaked clothing dripped heavily onto the tile. Michelle knelt beside him and laced her hands one on top of the other before beginning compressions. She pumped his chest frantically, her mind struggled to recall the CPR training that Lincoln gave her when they first started dating. She never thought she'd actually have to put her basic skill to use let alone perform it on her husband.

She leaned down and breathed into him two consecutive times, the oxygen slithered past his lips, but he remained motionless. She continued the compressions that seemed to last a lifetime. Again, she allowed her breath to pour into him, but still, his lungs wouldn't accept it.

Michelle lied her head onto his chest and listened for any sign of life, the lack of his heart beat made hers spike astronomically.

"Lincoln!" her pleads came out as an unsettling roar that shook the Earth to its core. She forced herself to continue the CPR, the lump in her throat prevented her from uttering another word. Her vision blurred as the tears in her eyes spilled over and stained her cheeks.

The faucet continued to spurt water into the tub and onto the floor. It was the only sound throughout the room other than her frantic double breathing. Her hands pumped into him uselessly as she began to hyperventilate. Her own chest rose up and down rapidly. Despite her attempts, he wasn't moving, he wasn't breathing, she wasn't saving him...and she knew that.

She crawled to the other side of the bathroom where her phone lied next to her pistol. Against her better judgment, she hurriedly dialed 911. The last thing they needed was the police being on their radar, but she knew that she couldn't save Lincoln and she had to find someone that could.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"My husband's not breathing, I need help now!" Michelle demanded shakily. "We're at the Bentley Motel, 5209 Weston Avenue, hurry!" She rapidly ended the call and scurried back to her husband's side. Her hands gingerly pulled Lincoln's lengthy dreds away from his face. She chocked on the sob that threatened to escape her throat before gripping his hand and lying down on the cold, wet, sticky bathroom floor. She curled up beside him and ran her palm softly across his cheek as she faced him. Her tears traveled down her cheeks and settled onto the floor.

Michelle examined Lincoln's features. He never looked so calm, so peaceful, so serene until now. "Lincoln," the whisper came out barely audible.

Her breathing stopped momentarily once she eyed the small, white business card that was propped up on the toilet beside them. She snatched it down and allowed her eyes to glide across what Michelle recognized to be the address to the law firm as well as a phone number. She gritted her teeth at the little picture of Mr. Everette that sat in the upper righthand corner. She flipped the card over and narrowed her eyes at the three bold letters on the back, the letters that granted her unnecessary confirmation as to who was behind the entire ordeal, as if she didn't already know.

V.V.S.