And she sat there, looking out into the dark night that she could see from her window. She was wrapped with a thin blanket, the cold making her skin pluck where it caressed it. Nothing, not even the penetrating stare of the agitated man standing at her door aroused her from her thoughts.

Her eyes were vacant and her expression blank.

"He's not coming back," the man said finally having enough of the heavy silence.

She didn't turn to him, the only acknowledgement he had that she heard him was the stiffness in her posture. When she spoke, her voice was eerily calm, like the waves before a storm. "How do you know? He may, if he wishes."

The man sighed, a defeated and tired sound. "He's not a good man. He killed and manipulated and not to mention that he's wanted in two more states. He's a villain, the bad guy, he's not what you need."

The woman flashed her eyes at him, her stare pure fire and fury. "He might have been all that to you, but he is my hero. He took me out of the hands of killers and gave me freedom."

"He's a villain."

The woman turned back to the window, her posture lax and waiting. She ignored the man at the door. He knew nothing. He was not the one who found her gagged and beaten. He was not the one who spoon fed her, who cared for her, who bathed her and he sure wasn't the one who killed those people who the law is trying to avenge. He was not the one who avenged her. "The Villain" as they called him was the one who had her loyalty, the one who had her trust and the one who she is waiting for.

"He is my Hero." She said to the empty room, sitting, waiting for her Villain to come and find her.