Lindsay flinched when she heard the door open. It seemed that only a few moments had passed since he'd left the night before. Of course, with how completely exhausted she was, it was no wonder she'd fallen into such a deep sleep so quickly. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Let me the fuck go." she demanded as soon as he reached the bottom of the spiral staircase. She growled for effect, though she had to fight to keep from wincing at the pain it caused her. Her throat was always raw and sore from all the yelling she did every day, but it wasn't going to stop her. No, if it annoyed this man, she'd scream until it bleed. "You bastard! You can't keep me here forever!"

"I can, and I will." he replied cooly. She thrashed against the ropes that held her to the wheelchair and tried to ignore the pain they caused as they rubbed harshly against her skin. "You have no say."

"The hell I don't!" she shrieked,"Untie me!"

"Nien." he replied in German as he rolled her to the sink. Crap, he was going to wash her again, and there was nothing she could do about it. She struggled against her binds as he turned the water on and filled a nearby bucket. She hated this, she hated him!

"Psycho! Maniac! Animal!" she knew she was just repeating herself once again, but they'd been through this so many times she'd long since ran out of insults. He ignored her completely, as always, and proceeded to dump the bucket over her head. The water was like ice, and she screamed her protests as she thrashed against the ropes.

He grabbed a washcloth and squeezed some liquid soap on it, then ran it over her body. "Get off!" she snapped, though she knew full well he wouldn't. He cleaned every part of her with the little rag, and afterwards dumped another bucked of cold water onto her. A towel was then used to dry her, and he wasn't exactly nice about it as he dragged it over her skin. "Get away from me." she hissed, trying to squirm away from him, "You-" she was cut off when he roughly grabbed her by the throat.

"Quiet." he barked, glaring daggers at her.

"Fuck off." she gasped out, his hand making it very difficult to breath. He growled dangerously at her, but still he let go.

She watched him carefully as he went to the cupboard and opened it. When he walked back to her, he had that... thing, in his grasp. The hairbrush. Just a brush, light blue, thick bristled. As always, she went completely still and quiet at the sight of it.

He, very lightly, pulled her hair back from her face as he stood behind the chair. She wanted to spit some insult at him, but she couldn't think of anything at that moment. Then, she felt the first soft stroke, and despite herself she closed her eyes, relaxing at the touch.

Heiter was gentle while he did this, and for a moment, she forgot who he was, what he'd done. For just a little while, she let herself enjoy the touch, the repetitive movements of the bristles over her scalp. Minutes passed, and he kept going long after all the knots had disappeared. Sometimes, she wondered if he purposely dragged this out just to keep her quiet.

He stopped, and she heard him put the brush on the counter. Before she could even open her eyes to look at him, his fingers entangled themselves in her hair and stroked it. He caressed it softly, almost lovingly, and she heard a soft sound bubble from her sore throat.

Then it was over. He stood in front of her, an odd look on his face, as if he were studying her. She was the one to break the silence between them, "Why won't you leave me alone?" she asked darkly.

"Why won't you quiet?" he asked, his tone matching hers. He turned and went back up the steps, and she wanted to call him back, ask him to keep brushing her hair. She felt a stab of anger at herself, disgusted at the urge. But...

But she was so tired, mentally and physically. She'd been stuck down there for months, and he was the only person she'd seen. She wished he'd just let her go, but she knew that wasn't going to happen.

She felt tears gather in her eyes. He'd be back within the hour, probably to feed her, and part of her wanted him to just let her starve. She was just so tired, and very so confused.

She wanted to hurt him, and yet she felt empty when he wasn't there. She despised his every movement, his every breath, and yet she liked it when he touched her. She wanted to fight him until she breathed her last breath, and yet she, so badly, wanted to give up and just rest for awhile, let him take care of her.

A soft sob escaped her as she began to cry uncontrollably.

She hated him, and yet...