SLIM SHADY The Butcher of Detroit 3 ∆M

Marshall pulled up to the small house, the car coming to a stop underneath the street light. The neighborhood was quiet and still, the only sounds the distant hum of traffic. He turned off the ignition and looked at her, seeing the nervousness on her face.

__Marshall: "Here we are," he said, his voice soft. "You can come inside, it's safe. No one's gonna find you here."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain. But she could see the sincerity in his face, and knew that he was telling the truth. She slowly nodded, and unbuckled her seatbelt, her fingers trembling slightly.

__Catalina: "You sure it's okay?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "I don't want to cause you any problems or…"

He smiled reassuringly, interrupting her nervous rambling. He reached out and took her hand in his, his touch gentle and warm.

__Marshall: "It's fine," he said, his voice firm and soothing. "You're safe here, I promise. And I won't let anything happen to you. Now come on, let's get you inside."

She didn't argue, and allowed him to lead her out of the car. She followed him up to the front door, their footsteps soft on the gravel driveway. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let her enter first.

She stepped inside, her eyes darting around the small but tidy living room. It was cozy, and the faint smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the air. She looked around, taking in the small details, the photos on the walls, the worn-in sofa, the faded carpet. It looked like a home, a real home, unlike the cramped little apartment she'd been staying in since she arrived in this country.

__Catalina: "Nice place," she murmured, still taking it all in. He closed the door behind them, and stepped past her to flick on the light switch, bathing the room in soft light.

__Marshall: "Thanks," he said, watching her carefully as she looked around. "It's not much, but it's home."

He discreetly locked the door, the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place barely registering amongst the small sounds of the room. She was too busy looking at the knickknacks and trinkets on the shelves to notice the sound, and that was all according to his plan.

__Marshall: "You want something to drink?" he asked, his voice casual. "I've got soda, juice, beer, whatever you want."

He moved past her and into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and steady. He could feel her eyes on him, but he didn't look back, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the fridge in front of him.

__Catalina: "A beer, if you've got it," she called out. She sank down onto the sofa, her body relaxing into the cushions. She looked tired, the stress of the night finally catching up to her.

__Marshall: "Beer it is." he said, his voice tinged with amusement. He grabbed two bottles from the fridge and walked back into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table with a soft clink.

He sat down on the sofa next to her, leaving a little bit of space between them, but still close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to.

She grabbed one of the beers and took a long, satisfying sip, the cool liquid sliding down her throat. She let out a soft sigh of contentment and leaned back into the cushions, her body now fully relaxed. She looked over at him, taking in his lean physique and his calm demeanor.

__Marshall: "So," he said, breaking the silence. "What made you leave Cuba? Must've been something important to make you leave your home and everything behind."

She tensed, her body going rigid at his question. She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the edge of the beer bottle. She didn't want to talk about it, not really, but she had a feeling that he wasn't going to let her get away with staying silent.

__Marshall: "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he added quickly, seeing her reaction to his question. "I'm just curious, that's all. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face. He looked earnest, and sincere, and she found herself wanting to tell him. Maybe it would make her feel better, to get it off her chest. She took another sip of beer, gathering her courage, and then she spoke.

__Catalina: "I guess…there were a lot of things," she said, her voice low and hesitant. "I was sick of living under an oppressive government, sick of being watched all the time, sick of not being able to say what I wanted without fear of retribution."

She paused, her eyes fixed on the beer bottle in her hands, her fingers tracing the cool glass.

__Catalina: "I had friends who were beaten or arrested for speaking out, for trying to make a change. Some people had even been killed just because they dare to say they don't want to leave under dictatorship. I saw how hopeless the situation was, and how the only way to escape was to leave.

She sighed sadly

__Catalina: "I realized that if I stayed in Cuba, there was no future for me," she said quietly. "I had no opportunities, no freedom, no hope for anything better. So I decided to leave my home and my family and start a new life somewhere else, even if it meant having nothing."

Marshall looked at her. Her eyes were full of sadness and also hope of a better future or at least better than what she had been through all those years. She took a sip and continued

__Catalina: "But it wasn't easy," she murmured, her voice catching in her throat. "Leaving everything you know behind, especially when you have nothing to your name...it's hard. And scary. But I had to do it, for my own sanity and for my own future."

She closed her eyes for few seconds and then opened them.

__Catalina: "And now I'm here," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I have no papers, no money, no job. I'm completely alone, and I'm illegal. And I don't know what I'm going to do now."

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. She wanted to be strong, but the stress and exhaustion of the night were getting the best of her. She wiped her eyes, trying to hide her tears, but he saw them anyway.

__Marshall: "Hey," he said, his voice soft and gentle. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, his fingers brushing her cheek. "Don't cry, okay? It's gonna be alright."

__Catalina: "How do you know that?" she said, her voice cracking. "I'm stuck here, and I have nothing. I don't know how it's going to be alright."

__Marshall: "There are millions of illegal immigrants here in America," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "And some of them are doing just fine. You just need to find the right people, the right connections, and you can make it here, too.

She looked at him, her eyes wide. She'd never really thought about it like that. She'd been so focused on the struggles of being alone and undocumented, but he was right. Rhere were other people like her, people who had come to this country with nothing and still managed to make a life for themselves.

__Marshall: "You'll be okay," he said, his voice reassuringl. You'll figure it out, I know you will. And hey...you've made one good connection already, right?"

She smiled at that, a small but genuine smile. She knew he was referring to himself, and the fact that he was willing to help her despite knowing nothing about her meant a lot. She took a deep breath, feeling a little better, a little more hopeful.

__Catalina: "Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "For helping me. For being so kind to me. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't picked me up tonight."

__Marshall: "You're welcome," he said, his voice warm. He gave her thigh a gentle pat, the gesture of affection making her stomach flutter. She looked at him, really looked at him. She liked his eyes, the way they smiled even when his mouth didn't.

__Catalina: "You have beautiful eyes." she blurted out, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth.

__Marshall: "You are pretty gorgeous too, you know. You're a beautiful woman....Way too beautiful to be in a place like this." He said, his voice full with concern.

__Catalina: "Yeah, well, I'm not really in a position to be picky," she said, her voice dry and wry. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a little short on options."

__Marshall: "You don't know what's going on right? After all you're here for just few days."

__Catalina: What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "What's going on here that I should know about?"

__Marshall: "A lot of young women have been disappearing here at night. It's been going on for two years now, and there doesn't seem to be an end to it. No one knows what's happening to them, or who's taking them, but it's clear that something is going on in this town."

The air in the room seemed to chill at his words. She shivered, the realization of what he was saying sinking in. Disappearing woman, one after the other, and no one knew why. It was a terrifying thought.

__Catalina: "Are you saying they've been kidnapped?" she asked quietly. Her heart was beating fast, her mind racing with horrible possibilities.

__Marsgall: "Yes. But it could be a criminal organization who sold them as slaves or take their organs or some secte which give them as sacrifice for the devil or even.... a serial killer who raped, torture and then killed them..."

He said those words while looking at her, reading her expression. He saw how the fear deformed her face.

He then continue: "But no body has ever been found, so nobody really knows."

She felt her blood run cold at his words. All those possibilities are all worse. She'd heard about them before, of course, but she'd never thought she'd come face to face with one of them. It was like something out of a movie, something that happened to other people, not to her.

She knows she's vulnerable. She doesn't even have a place to sleep. She's an easy target. She was frozen by the fear.

__Marshall: "Hey, you'll stay here tonight okay. You don't have to worry." he said rubbing her hands gently "Let me get you some sheets."

She nodded, her throat tight. She watched him stand up and leave the room, her heart hammering in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was all so surreal, so strange. She was in a stranger's house, having just heard about missing young women and possible serial killers, and she was about to sleep on his couch. But what choice did she have?