Angie #2 - the savage saviour (freewrite)

You might want to read the first part. It might make more sense. But suit yourself, it's your funeral.

'What do you mean? How could I possibly fix it?' she asks, but her voice is trembling now. Something in his answer shook her down deep, penetrating through the cold and into her beating heart.
She knows he's not kidding and she does not like it one bit. This man, this dangerous, savage saviour is not going to let her be. This is not a joke, for the first time since waking up here, she sees clearly. As clear as day that she's not gonna get her freedom back anytime soon. And she's presented, as most survivors are, with two choices. Run or play along, fight or flight, swim or drown.
And she's always known she's the one who drowns.

'I don't know,' he shrugs, oblivious, 'but I fixed you when you were a little girl and now it's your turn.
Angie stares at his face hard, trying to make out the features hidden behind his mask of pain. He's not as old as she imagined, it seems. Somewhere in his early forties, she guesses, so that would mean he was just a kid then. Mid-twenties, at best. This is foolish, she tells herself. Thinking like him, indulging in the madness will get her nowhere.

'What happened?' she asks, despite herself and finds she's genuinely curious. She can't shake the face of that kid out of her head, she keeps seeing his brown eyes, younger, happier picking her up off the sidewalk.
'A lot of crazy shit,' he shrugs, looking away and more importantly, looking vulnerable. This would be the time to strike if she wanted to strike. But she no longer does. Whatever that image in her head is, it's him, real or imagined.
No, this is stupid, this is precisely what he wants. She's letting him get in her head and she doesn't know what to do.

Fight...or flight?

'She left, but that wasn't what did it. at that point, I guess I didn't even care if she left or no, not anymore. After all, I pushed her out the door, you know? I was so...in love by then, so taken with...someone else that I frankly didn't care if she lived or died.'
Angie notices his hesitation, sad and frustrated, not knowing how to define this other who meant so much to him.
How'd it start?' and the voice in her head is yelling that this is crazy, that she should be looking for an escape and she says she is. She's finding her way out now.
He looks into her eyes, broken and alone, and smiles. 'Oh Angie, I did bad. fell for someone I shouldn't have and I let her fall back,' he tells her. And he struggles to pull out the words because she's so deep into his soul that he can hardly speak.
'And she left,' Angie says. It's not really a question, she realizes as she opens her mouth.
'She left, they both did. And everything went to fucking pieces from there.'
He's rocking slightly in his seat, looking straight at her, imploring. There's more to the story, something he can't quite say.
'She took him from me,' his voice breaks and he closes his eyes, as if he could forget.
'Your wife?'
He shakes his head. 'Her.'
Angie looks down at the tray of food, forgotten by the bed, and then behind him at the escape she's never going to make.
'Please help me,' he begs.

And she doesn't know how she got into this, she just knows she can't quite get away.