This is no where near good, this following chapter. But I wanted to have something out for you, for my loyal readers, to look over. I'm not sure if I'll keep this one up, or take it down. Oh, and just so you know, Sam is /not/ ever going to rape Lora. Ever. That's gross. So don't worry about that.

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Samuel stared down at the girl, as if just realizing his situation. He was wanted for murder, kidnapping, holding up a store… might as well rape the kid, he’d get a good lifetime sentence anyway. But as he held Lora’s hand and walked her to the front of the house, he shook his head. He wasn’t that kind, to sleep with some little kid. And she must be what, five, six? Sick.

Fucking Nathan. That a-hole had deserted him when he needed him. But at the same time, Sam’s mind was rolling with thoughts. Why had he shot the lady? She was stupid, yes, but innocent. She hadn’t done anything to hurt him. He screwed up… big time. And now he was in the middle of no where with some kid and a hundred and seventy dollars, give or take. It wasn’t even worth it.

Lora was still sniffling, and Samuel tightened his grip on her hand. Thankful he had parked in the back of the house, away from the road, he walked up the stairs to the door. The place was old and dusty, dirt clung to the windows. He opened the door with ease, glancing around the old place with a hint of disdain. He attempted to walk around the house, but Lora’s annoyingly slow steps made him aggravated. So Sam swooped her up in one arm and walked around, catching a good layout of the place.

In the kitchen were a few old cans of fruit preserves, real old stuff by the looks of them. There was a moth-eaten couch, and a broken television along side a radio. Upstairs were two bedrooms, both with ancient twin beds and disgusting quilts. Sam exhaled, putting his new charge on the bed and staring at her. “Fuck.”

Lora burst into tears instantly, and Samuel regretted the word. “Hey, Hey! Chill.” He demanded, trying to soften his voice. Lora’s tears slowed, but her lips still trembled. “Look, it’s okay. Once this thing blows over, I’ll get you back to Mommy, and… you can… whatever, okay?”

“Kay.”

It was all he got in response. Sam glanced around, wondering if he should tie the kid up, or something. But they were in the middle of no where, was it really likely that she was going to run away? He turned to her. “If you run away, Lor, is it? If you run away, you’ll be in big trouble. Do you understand?” His tone was now harsh, and his eyes narrowed at her.

Lora cringed, moving away from her captor as though he were deadly. Then again, he was. Samuel rolled his eyes, and glanced at the window. The drapes had a lope of some kind of decorative rope running with them. He pulled the rope down after shutting the drapes, and then grabbed Lora’s wrist. She began to cry out as he bound her hands to a bed post, just for security reasons. Part of Samuel felt bad for the poor child, while the other part wanted to slap her unconscious. She really needed to shut the hell up.

His eyes hunted for a gag of some sort, a handkerchief or something to make her endless crying stop. He wasn’t in the babysitting mood, and entertaining some little kid wasn’t that great. Right now, he wanted to go back downstairs and listen to the radio for any signs of police activity in the area. Samuel pulled open a few drawers, searching for something to bind around her mouth. He found nothing, and finally moved back over to Lora, who was still sobbing her blue eyes out. “If you cry, I’ll hurt you. Do you understand?” He asked, his face in hers. Lora seemed to understand, so he shut the door and listened to her sobs die down.

He had really screwed himself over this time.