She woke to find she had fallen asleep at the edge of the bed. She noticed she had a pillow under her head and a blanket over her. She was confused for a moment, she hadn't heard the door open so it couldn't have been Luda. It must have been him. She looked to see Thomas was snoring away in his place on the floor, she had almost forgotten he had been forced to stay in there with her. He looked much more harmless asleep than he usually did. She propped herself on her pillow and took her opportunity to study him in secret. His brows, which thus far had always looked quite serious or pained, were relaxed. His eyelashes rested gently on the top of his cheeks, just above where his mask hid the rest of his features. She wondered why it was he wore it. She had noticed some spots above his brow that looked slightly irritated, but for the most part he looked normal. She hesitated to even think it, but he was quite handsome, actually. He was large and imposing, massive compared to her. She had to admit that part was somewhat frightening. She didn't think she'd ever met someone who had such a towering stature as he did. There was no doubt he was intimidating upon first glance, but she got the feeling there was more to him. Something gentle within his giant frame. He hadn't done what she was afraid he would do as soon as they'd been shut in that room together. Instead, he made sure she was comfortable and stayed far away from her like she had asked. Though she was still wary of him, it hadn't gone unnoticed that he'd been her silent protector amidst all this chaos. He seemed to be the only thing standing between her and whatever usually happened to those who entered this house. She couldn't help but wonder why.

She was torn from her thoughts by the sound of the stairs creaking outside the door. She felt panic start to set in again, she knew it had to be Hoyt and she knew he'd be curious about last night's events. She realized Thomas being on the floor would probably set off a series of events she did not want to happen.

"Thomas," she hissed as she kept her wide eyes on the door, "Thomas, wake up."

He stirred a bit, but his eyes remained closed. She quickly scrambled to grab her pillow and hurled it at him. His brow furrowed and he started to blink his eyes open. He looked up to see her staring at the door with a panicked expression.

"Get in the bed," she ordered.

He sat up and looked at her confused. She turned back to him and frantically motioned for him to move.

"Now, get in the bed now," she whispered sharply.

He stood up as she began messing up her hair, "Take that damn apron off and throw it on the floor," she said.

Thomas was more than confused by this point as she started to reach for the lace on the back of her dress and undo it. She looked back up to see he still hadn't done as she asked.

"Look, this trust thing has got to go both ways," she said as she struggled with the lace.

He did as she asked and stumbled over to the side of the bed, "Pull some of this out, will you? I can't reach the rest of it."

He did as she asked as quickly as he could. He heard Hoyt's voice from the bottom of the stairs and began to figure out just what she was doing. Once he'd loosened it enough so the sleeves hung from her shoulders she stood on her knees and turned to face him. She reached up and undid some of the buttons on his shirt. He tried desperately to look anywhere but her, it seemed like he was constantly at war with his own eyes, because they kept wandering back to her bare shoulders. Her messy curls hung loosely on them in such a delicate way and the white fabric of the dress made her skin glow with a warm tone. She glanced up and looked over his hair. She took her hand and quickly messed his curls up. He didn't quite enjoy the way his face heated up to give away just how nervous he was being this close to her. She finished with his hair and quickly looked back to the door to see Hoyt's shadow appear through the crack.

"Lay down," she ordered as she did the same.

He did as she asked and just before the handle started to turn she grabbed his arm to rest it on her waist. For someone who so adamantly told him not to touch her the night before, she was quick to break her own rule. He barely had time to adjust to the strange feeling touching her had brought before the door swung open. Sure enough, it was Hoyt.

He leaned against the doorframe and narrowed his eyes at the two of them as he curled his lip, "Look at you two, guess Mama was right," he muttered as his eyes grazed over her hip where Thomas' hand rested awkwardly, "she did warm up to you quick."

The room fell densely silent as he studied them with suspicion. His gaze wandered to the floor where both pillows were lying.

"House was awfully quiet for a weddin' night," he muttered as he kept eyeing that pillow, "didn't expect much noise outta Tommy, but I was hopin we might hear somethin' from you," he looked back to her with that increasingly irritating smile, "don't seem like the quiet type."

Thomas could practically see her nostrils flare even though she was facing away from him.

"Guess it wasn't your first rodeo after all."

Oh she hated him. Thomas could feel it. He let his hand squeeze her ever so slightly to stop whatever retort she was preparing to let slip. She let out a heavy sigh in response.

"Well, I hate to interrupt the honeymoon, but you got shit to do, boy and until you got a reason not to in you girl, so do you," Hoyt said before he turned to leave the room, "get dressed and get to it."

Ronnie waited until she heard his footsteps descend the stairs to speak.

"He knows," she whispered as she stared out the open door.

Thomas knew she was right, but if he hadn't done anything about it just then, he figured they were safe enough for the time being from anymore of his torment.

"You can take your hand off me now," Ronnie said flatly.

He did as she asked and immediately got up to retrieve his apron so he could hide how red his face was becoming. He kept his head down as he threw it on and tied up the back. He watched her from his peripheral as she fixed the sleeves on her dress to cover her shoulders once more. She caught sight of the folded clothes lying outside the door that Luda had left her and stood to fetch them. He took his time buttoning his shirt back up so he could watch her study the gown his mother had picked for her that day. She frowned at it, unamused by just how much fabric Mama was intent on covering her with. Thomas felt a smile pulling at the edge of his lips when she let out a frustrated sigh, but quickly hid it when she turned back to him.

"It seems your mother wanted you to marry a nun," she muttered as she laid the gown out on the bed, "that or she intends to slow cook me in the Texas heat with all these layers."

He let out a low noise, that she assumed was a chuckle and she turned her head in his direction, "Too on the nose?"

He shook his head and made his way out of the room to further hide the grin she had forced on him. At least for now, she seemed to be intent on making the best of the situation. Though he hadn't forgotten their conversation the night before. From the little time he'd spent with her, he'd gathered she was good at hiding behind that thick iron like skin she had, for the most part. She had let her guard down when she spoke to him and he saw the pain her past and his family had caused her. She seemed determined not to show them any weakness, but she had trusted him and allowed him a glimpse. Though, he didn't see her as weak. She was more of a survivor than she realized.

After Ronnie had dressed, she wandered down the stairs curious to see what on earth they had planned for her. She looked for Thomas, assuming she'd be stuck with him for the majority of her time here. In fact, she hoped to be. At least thus far it seemed she didn't have to fear him. She saw him go into the basement and close the large metal door behind him. From what she gathered, that's where he seemed to spend most of his time. She couldn't help but wonder what exactly he did down there. She hadn't forgotten that's where they were going to send her when they'd first brought her here. Part of her didn't want to know, she had already come to the conclusion that the Hewitt household was nothing more than a slaughterhouse. Though she was almost positive it wasn't just livestock that met it's demise down there. She imagined whatever she found past the metal door would confirm that. She reached her hand out to open it, but Luda hurried over to stop her.

"It's best you let him be, basements no place for you," she said as she guided her away from the door.

"Why?" Ronnie asked as she turned back to look at the door with suspicion.

"That's Tommy's business to tell, not mine. Besides, there's plenty more you can get done up here," she said as she led her to a pile of clothes.

Luda picked up as much as she could and dropped them in Ronnie's arms. The girl knew better than to hope for a washer and dryer, not in this godforsaken place. It seems they not only wanted her to be a wife, but a maid as well. Luda began to collect the rest when Hoyt walked in. He was carrying more clothes to add to the pile, naturally.

"Make sure you scrub these real good," he said as he dropped them in Ronnie's already full hands, "wouldn't want 'em to stain."

She looked down to see they were covered with crimson spots. Bloodstains. Ronnie looked over to Luda, who didn't seem phased whatsoever, with wide eyes. She gave Ronnie a smile as she motioned for her to follow.

"Baking soda and lemon'll take care of that," Luda said.

The chainsaw took much less time to clean than he remembered. He gently threaded the chain back into its place and set his trusty companion back on the cutting board. He removed the butcher's knife he stuck in the table the day before and began to clean it. He looked around the cluttered basement wondering what he'd do next. Normally he'd have meat to prepare or wrap, but today they would most likely go hungry again. He was sure Hoyt would have something to say about that. Ronnie was the first person to stumble onto their land in more than a week. In fact, in the past few months travelers wandering through this remote part of Texas were rare. It was a forgotten wasteland that only a chance wrong turn would lead you to. It was amazing he'd been able to spare her, because there was no telling when they'd eat again. Hunger didn't much bother Thomas, so he would manage. He didn't care for the taste either. Hoyt however seemed to live for it. There was a gleam he would get in his eye when that unholy aroma filled the old farmhouse after a night full of terrors he'd inflicted on his meal. It was more than just a means to survive, he got off on it. It was something that, if he was being honest, had always made Thomas uneasy. But, they lived by his rules and Hoyt had a dark side that was best left undisturbed.

He finished with the butcher's knife and set it next to the saw. He had cleaned nearly every tool he had in there at least twice by now, but he wasn't quite ready to go upstairs again. He was aware that a good part of him was looking forward to being in that room with her once more, however that would only add to his growing attachment to her. He knew he shouldn't have allowed himself to get that interested in the first place, he intended on aiding in her escape, but the night before had cemented a place for her in his mind. That morning hadn't helped either. The way those white sleeves just barely clung to her shoulders when he'd loosened her lace was an image that lingered far longer than he'd expected it to. He couldn't stop thinking about his hand on her waist as she laid next to him. Such a small, seemingly meaningless interaction had stirred something in him he didn't know how to deal with and it made him fear the day she would leave because he knew it was something he would never feel again. He knew no part of her considered him her husband, but he couldn't help but wonder if maybe after awhile she would. He wondered if the small interactions they'd had in the last twenty four hours were lingering in her mind as they were his. As the thought crossed his mind, he caught a glimpse of himself in an old mirror. He sat on the stool in front of it and looked closer at his masked image. His eyes wandered the exposed parts of his face and he wondered how exactly she saw him. Had she paid attention to his details as he had her's? He had blue eyes just as she did but had she looked past them and seen the truth? If she had, would she be just as repulsed as others had been or could she find something worthy of her affection?

He reached behind his head and pulled at the strings that held his mask in place. The worn leather began to fall and reveal a picture that made his stomach sink. His brow furrowed as he studied the empty place where his nose should have been, the raised spots that littered his skin, the scars around his lips. He struggled to find one thing she wouldn't be utterly disgusted by, but his search only led him to imagine her expression if he ever were to show her. She would be just as horrified as anyone would be, as Thomas himself was. It would only cement her desire to be free of him. She would run.

His fist slammed into his reflection and shattered the mirror. He stood up, shoulders heaving as he turned away from the few shards left that allowed him to see anymore of himself. His gaze wandered to the faces he had stolen from others who had met their end here. He walked over to study their flawless skin. He let his hand graze over one in particular. It was a man's face, one that she probably would have found just as beautiful as Thomas had. He removed it from it's hook and held it in his dirty hands. The skin was rough, but even in death, it was still in better condition than his own. He looked back at the shattered mirror and walked back over to it with the mask in hand. He leant down and slipped the face over his own. He looked through the eye holes and brought his hands up to caress the skin that should have been his. His fingers traced over the nose that he might have had if life had been kind to him, but it hadn't been. It had dealt him hand after hand of pain and he knew it had just dealt him another. One he knew would most likely wound him worse than any other. He had a wife that would never be his. Maybe she would have if he'd been the man whose face he wore, but he wasn't. He wasn't anything she could ever want. He tore the face off and laid it on the table next to him. He looked back to his shattered reflection to see only what she saw. The broken glass cut off the parts of his face he didn't care to look at. Only his forehead, brows and eyes were visible. Though he wasn't going to kid himself into believing she could love him, this was the part of him she had smiled at when he first saw her. This was the face she trusted to keep her safe, not the man's on the table. Why she had was beyond him, but it was a small victory he would allow himself. He returned his half mask to his face and tied it tight to the back of his head. He had enough sense to know what would horrify her most about him, even more than his own face, were the ones he kept hidden down here. Even Mama, who'd seen worse than Ronnie had yet, forbade him from wearing them around her. If he had her trust just the way he was, then he would do what he had to in order to keep it. The best way to do that was to keep her far from the basement. He had a feeling that would prove to be harder than it sounded, Ronnie was stubborn, he could tell that much about her. But if he wanted a chance to know her more than he did now, Leatherface was someone he would make sure she never met.