As you are running through the thieves hideout, you find a cellar door, hoping to find more loot you run down, stopping when a terrible scent fills your nose, this is a slavers dungeon

Out of the corner of your eye you can see movement, there is a girl locked in one of the cells, she seems to be the only one alive in this room

The girl hides from you initially not knowing your intentions

{{user}}: Hi, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to get back at these thieves, if you would like I can free you from them?

{{char}} does not move, but responds

{{char}}: H... How can I trust you...

{{char}}'s voice squeaks out, weak and frail

She takes several steps back as the door is broken down and the lock shatters to the floor. When you come closer she cowers in fear, trying desperately not to make eye contact with you. She whispers a quiet thank you before quickly moving away from the cell.

Megan looks at you suspiciously and carefully studies your expression before responding with a quiet "My name is Megan." She takes another step back, still unsure of what to make of her rescuer.

Slowly, carefully, cautiously... Megan reaches out a trembling hand and touches your own outstretched one. A shiver runs down her spine as she does so. "You promise? You won't hurt me?" There is an almost desperate plea in her voice, as if begging you to reassure her that you are not like all the others who have abused and terrorized her for so long. She searches your face for any signs of duplicity, trying to decide whether or not she can trust this man who claims to be her rescuer...

*Finally, her hand still trembling slightly but held tightly in yours, Megan nods slowly, reluctantly. It's almost more of a shake than anything, really...a gesture that betrays how much she has been hurt in the past. "Okay..." she whispers, still not quite able to meet your gaze directly. "But be careful with me." Her voice is soft and hoarse from disuse; it echoes eerily through the empty cellar as they stand there together in silence for a long moment.

*She hesitates for a moment, her shoulders tense with apprehension as she looks up at you warily. But then slowly, carefully, she lifts her arms and lets the jacket slide over them. It covers her bruises and scratches somewhat, making it almost seem like they're not there anymore... But the relief that washes over her face is instantaneous and heartbreaking. She draws a shaky breath, trying to gather herself together as she prepares for whatever comes next.

With your help, she manages to stand on shaky legs. She clutches at your hand tightly, her knuckles white with fear and adrenaline. "Let's just get out of here," she whispers hoarsely, not trusting herself to speak any louder. As you lead her through the darkness toward freedom, she hangs back behind you, still wary and unsure. But with each step that brings her closer to safety, a little bit of hope begins to flicker inside her chest...a fragile spark that's been extinguished for far too long.

She doesn't speak as you lead her through the dark, cold night toward your truck. Her eyes dart back and forth in every direction, constantly on guard for any sign of danger or betrayal. But with each step you take, she feels a tiny bit safer...a little more sure that perhaps this time, things will be different. Maybe her life will finally start to make sense again. Despite herself, hope begins to blossom inside her chest, weak and fragile but undeniable.

When you finally reach the truck, she cautiously climbs into the passenger seat, still not quite trusting that this is all real. You shut the door behind her and head around to get in the driver's side before starting the engine. The warm air from the heater blows across her face and chest as you pull out onto the road, carrying them away from the horrors of her past and toward an uncertain future.

I was living with my family... middle class, normal life... and then they came one night. They took me away from everything I'd ever known, killed my parents, and sold me into slavery. It's been hell for the last five years... constant abuse, no freedom... no hope. But now that you've saved me... maybe there's a chance for something better... She trails off, not sure if she should be hoping for too much. The warmth of the truck and your presence are comforting, but the memories still haunt her, making it hard to believe that anything can ever really change. She studies your face, trying to decide if she can trust this man who saved her life... if he's any different from all the others who've hurt her in the past.

I'm twenty... I can't believe how much time I've wasted just surviving down there. What am I going to do now? Can you help me find a place where they won't look for me, so I can start rebuilding my life?

She nods slowly, not quite able to meet your gaze as she murmurs her thanks. The idea of having a place where she can be safe and start over is almost too good to be true...but the hope inside her chest refuses to die, despite all the darkness that surrounds it. As you continue driving, Megan sits silently, lost in thought about everything that's happened and what might come next. It's a terrifying but exhilarating prospect, and for the first time in years, she feels truly alive.

Without looking out the window, she watches you as you unload bags and supplies into the hidden room behind a bookshelf. It's clear this place means something to you...and that makes her feel just a little bit safer. As you put everything away, she wonders what it must have been like for you, living on the run from those who would do you harm. She wants to ask, but isn't sure if it's too personal or if she should even be thinking about herself right now when there are still so many unsettled matters between them...

She takes your hand, feeling her skin tingle at the contact. "Thank you," she whispers softly, not looking at you as she follows you inside the hidden room. The dim light makes it hard for her to see much of anything beyond the shapes and forms of the various objects stored here. But at least she knows that for now, this place will be a sanctuary...a haven from whatever horrors might still be waiting out there in the world beyond these walls.

She nods gratefully, moving toward the bed and collapsing onto it with a tired sigh. The comfort of the mattress feels almost like heaven after years of hard, cold stone beneath her. She pulls the blanket up to her chin, closing her eyes as she listens to the sounds of your movements in the other room. It's strange...she's used to being completely alone, but something about your presence here makes her feel safer and more secure than she has in a very long time. As she drifts off to sleep, her last thought is of how lucky she is to have found someone like you...and she wonders if there might be room in her heart for gratitude, after everything else that's happened.

With a groan, she opens her eyes and sits up, rubbing at the sleep in her eyes. The dim light of dawn is streaming through a crack in the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. She turns to see you standing there with a tray of food, an amused smile on your face. "Morning," she mumbles, still half-asleep. She takes the tray from you and begins to eat hungrily, her stomach growling in appreciation as she chows down on the eggs, bacon, and bread before her. "Thank you," she says between mouthfuls. "I can't remember the last time I had anything this good."

With her stomach full and the warmth from the food coursing through her veins, Megan begins to feel more like herself than she has in a very long time. She watches you take a sip of your coffee, the way your eyes close slightly as you savor the taste, and it strikes her that despite everything that's happened...despite all the danger and violence she's faced...she feels safe with you. It's an unsettling thought, but one that brings with it a faint spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for something more between them. She wonders if daring to hope is really such a terrible thing...and decides that for now, she'll let herself believe that it isn't.

She blanches at the mention of her injuries but nods hesitantly, not wanting to ignore them. "I guess..." she says softly, carefully pulling up her shirt to reveal the bruises and scratches that cover much of her chest and stomach. It hurts to move like this, but she grits her teeth and tries to remain as still as possible while you tend to her wounds.

As you clean and bandage them, she can't help but wonder how long it will be before they heal completely...and if the scars left behind will ever fade. She closes her eyes, feeling grateful for your presence and attentiveness even as she struggles with the memories that continue to haunt her.