"I still don't understand why you're doing this."

“Help me!”

I’m sweating through every pour, tugging harshly at the chain connecting these handcuffs to the wall, all the while trying to remember how the fuck I got here and who in their right mind would do something like this to me.  I don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is, or anything.  I keep thinking, maybe this is a joke.  Maybe Trace, Rachael, and Chris are getting back at me for some idiotic shit I did to them this week.

But I think this is a little bit too much for them to consider.

“Can anyone hear me!” I scream the words, and my voice goes hoarse.  “Please...”  I suck in a breath, and try not to break down crying.  I did before, and it really wore me out.  I can’t be weak anymore.  I know when I woke up I could barely move for awhile and I don’t want to feel that way anymore.  If whoever did this to me shows up, I need to be strong...be ready to defend myself because hell...

I am not dying here.

It’s a long box like room, a single fluorescent light scans the ceiling from end to end.  There are boards over the spaces where the windows should be, and the floor and ceiling are painted a strange mixture of ivory and piss yellow.  The walls have been covered with the same kind of foam they use to soundproof recording studios, and I really hate that I know how well that stuff keeps sound enclosed in a space.  It makes me lose so much hope, knowing that no matter how loud I yell, nobody out there is going to be able to hear me.  I’ve been given an old mattress to lay on, and it smells like somebody took a shit on it and left it here to fester.  It’s caused me to gag at least twice since I woke up, and I’m thankful that they didn’t shove something in my mouth to shut me up, because I probably would have choked on my own vomit otherwise.  It’s the only comforting thing about this situation right now...that I’m alive, and I have to do everything in my power to keep myself this way.

But fuck, I have no idea what I’m even up against yet.

I’m trying to remember what happened before this, where I was, what I said and did.  It was Trace’s birthday.  I drank too much champagne in the car, signed an autograph on my way inside for that cool security guard at...

Fuck, what club was it?

I close my eyes and try to remember a name.  But everything is jumbled.  I can’t remember a single thing after that autograph. I know I was drugged.  There’s no other explanation.  But by who?  And why?  I need answers.  But I’m all alone here.  The windows are boarded up.  I don’t know if it’s day or night.  I could have been knocked out for days for all I know.  I wish someone would come...take these cuffs off me and take me home.

My momma must be having a fucking heart attack by now.

I hope Trace called her.

I start in on the chain pulling again, having the hope that if I just tug hard enough, the screws will fly out of the wall and the floor and I’ll be able to stand up, break the door down and get out of here.  But I’m not stupid.  I looked at those metal loops before.  They’re drilled in, reenforced into the foam and concrete.  Miracles don’t happen like that.  I may work out a lot, my trainer might say that I’m in excellent shape.

But that doesn’t mean I’m pulling reinforced screws out of the wall anytime soon.

I give up, after what seems like forever.  I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes.  A plan.  I need to think of a plan.  What I’m going to do to get myself out of this situation.  Hell, I have enough time, and I should put it to good use rather than just sit here and wallow in my misery.  I’m a smart guy.  People tell me that a lot.  Well, okay...not Trace.  He tells me I’m an idiot most of the time, but that’s okay.  I need somebody to keep me grounded, and Trace is pretty good at that.  I’ve known the guy my whole life after all.  If he worshiped the ground I walked on we’d have a problem.  

I hope I get to see him again, soon.

I hear something start to rattle, and I feel myself go tense as I look toward the door and see the doorknob turning.  Somebody is here.  I don’t know why, but I back into the corner so I can do something to protect myself.  It’s pointless.  These cuffs more than prove how much control this person has over me.  I’m sure they have a gun, maybe other shit too.  I have to stay calm, I realize.  I can’t let myself be drugged again.  But fuck, I’m terrified. I could get shot right now, and die here.  How am I supposed to remain calm?

The door swings out, revealing the person that’s been hiding behind it.  My heart starts to race, and I try the best I can to see past the body blocking the doorway so I can try to get an inkling as to where I am.  But this person is too quick.  The door is slammed shut as quickly as it was opened.

Now my assailant and I are alone.

I’m afraid to look, thinking that I’m going to see some psychotic asshole with a gun or chainsaw standing in front of me, ready to tear my face off.  I look down at the floor, but the persons footsteps get closer to me and I can’t ignore the individual anymore.  I force myself to look up, into the face of...

Shit.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is soft, her eyes are dark brown and hypnotizing, and her hair is a light strawberry blond.  She’s beautiful, and strangely familiar looking.

Wow, I must still be out of it.

“I guess,” I whisper, trembling slightly.  “Where am I?”

“Don’t ask a lot of questions, okay?”  She sighs and tosses me a bottle of water.  “Just stay quiet and you’ll be fine.”

I do the best I can with my chained hands to get the cap off the bottle without spilling it all over myself.  I’m successful, but I don’t smile.  I just lift the bottle to my lips and drink eagerly.  I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth and throat were, and I’m thankful she’s decided to show me a little compassion, despite the fact that she’s a psycho for chaining me up in this place.  “Thanks.”

She nods a little.  “You’re calmer than I thought you’d be.”

She’s right.  I shouldn’t be so calm.  I should be screaming for help right now, trying to kick out, get her gun, which I can already see is tucked into the front of her pants.  For some reason though, my mind is telling me not to.  It’s telling me to be calm, and I’ll get me further. So I’ll listen, because it usually doesn’t steer me wrong.  I shrug my shoulders and bring both hands up to my face to scratch an itch.  “I freaked out when I was alone.  It’s pointless to continue.  But I want to know what the fuck is going on,’ I tell her softly.  

“It’s just a ransom,” she explains.  “You’ll be out in a few days.”

“Just a ransom?” I chuckle, tiredly.  “You make it sound like I’ve gone on vacation or something.”

“It could be worse.”

“Oh yeah,” I roll my eyes.  “You’re not going to make me feel better about this situation, you know.”r32;

“Well is there anything I can do to help you?”

I don’t get her.  It’s so weird it’s like...I’m dreaming.  I feel like she and I are old friends, even though she’s kidnapped me.  I must be losing it.  It’s the only explanation.  I hope she’s right.  I hope this is only going to last a few days.  I’ll go home and tell Trace all about how I had a logical, calm conversation with a psycho and he’ll just laugh at me like always.  It makes me feel comforted...thinking about him, about home, and my other friends.  I’m trying not to think about my mom too much.  It upsets me because I’m sure she’s just as freaked out about this as I am and I don’t want to cry anymore today.  “Sure,” I smirk.  “How about you take these cuffs off of me, and let me go?”

“Something logical,” she groans and narrows her eyes at me.  “You like crosswords?  I have a bunch of crossword puzzle magazines if you want them.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”r32;

“Hey, I’m trying here.”

I frown.  “When do I get to talk to my family?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs.  “I’m not in charge of that.”

Yes. Good, Justin.  Keep her talking.  She’s just told me that she’s not alone in all of this, and I need to have shit like that stored in my memory so I can tell the police later.  “Who is?”

She sighs heavily and whips something out of her back pocket.  “If I could tell you that, I wouldn’t have to do this to you.”

“What..”  I begin to say, as she comes around my backside and pulls a cloth tight over my eyes.  Suddenly I’m surrounded by darkness, and I hate it...I hate how terrified it’s making me.  I mean, I’m not afraid of the dark or anything, but I guess this is a little bit different.  I can’t see what’s going to happen.  I think that’s the most terrifying thing about it. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t talk to you anymore,” she says in a rushed voice, as I feel her knot the blindfold tightly behind my head.  “He’ll be here soon.  Just be quiet okay?  He’s going to ask you some stuff, and you need to just tell him and not get cute.”

I shudder a little, knowing that this girl is probably nothing compared to the person I’m about to come in contact with.  It’s weird that she’s okay with me knowing what she looks like, while “he” isn’t.  I don’t get it.  She’s just put herself in jeopardy by letting me see her face, but she doesn’t seem to care either.  I should be grateful for getting the opportunity to see her face though.  Despite how fucked up this all is, I can’t deny that she’s beautiful., and that she reminds me of someone I met someplace.  Fuck, what is it about her?  I press my lips together, trying desperately to think, to remember...

“Are you lost?”

Her voice is soft, but playful, and when my gaze lands on her, I’m left literally breathless.  It’s the girl from the table, and the tiniest part of me thinks that Trace noticed her date was gone and told her to go find me because I’d been staring at her all night.  “Well, I was.” I say, smiling a little.  “But now, I think I’m right where I want to be.”

Holy shit.

I trusted her.  I...I saw her sitting at that table, and the only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to dance with her.  I let myself go, I let her walk me around that place like I’d known her for years, not even thinking for an instant that she could be a threat to me.  What the fuck?  How could I have been so damn stupid?  My mom would be asking me where I left my brain right now, but I don’t think I even brought it with me that night.

And now I’m here, blindfolded, chained to the wall, about to meet some psychotic guy that probably wants nothing more than the pleasure of shooting me dead once he gets what he wants from me.

I sob.

“Shut up,” she hisses.  “He’s coming.”

I hear the door creak open and bang shut harshly, and I freeze, barely breathing as I hear heavy footsteps make their way towards me.  I wasn’t scared of her, but I’m scared of him, and I don’t even know what he looks like.  He could be a scrawny little shit for all I know, smaller than Trace, somebody I could kick to the ground in a few seconds.  Or, he could be big, burly...Eric sized.  I guess it doesn’t matter.  I’m not finding that information out anytime soon.

“Was he trouble?”

The voice is deep and thick, not southern, but he has a slight accent as if he could be from Boston or Canada.  I’m not really sure which.  I haven’t been to either place in a while.

“No,” I hear her say, the fear in her voice apparent.  “I came in and put the blindfold on him.”

It’s deathly quiet for a few minutes, and then..I feel something cold and hard being pressed into the side of my head.  I’d be stupid if I said I didn’t know that it was a gun, even though I’ve never had one pressed to my head before.  It’s terrifying to think that he could pull the trigger and I’d be dead, and I feel myself shudder hard.  I don’t want that.  I want to live, because I have a hell of a lot to live for.

“What do you remember from last night?” He asks me gruffly.

“Huh?”

I’m slapped across the face harshly, and I moan a little bit.

“You don’t have to hit him,” I hear the girl mutter.  “He’s confused.”

“Shut up,” he barks at her.  “Justin, I asked you a question, and I expect an honest answer.”

Well hell, I’m certainly not going to tell him I remember that his girlfriend, or whoever she is, is the one who seduced me right into his hands.  I don’t know who he’d kill first, and I dunno maybe I’m crazy but I’d feel bad if he killed her right now.  She was nice to me before.  Granted, she’s deceptive but I don’t think she deserves to die, at least not yet.  “What am I supposed to remember?  I went to a party and then...I don’t know, I woke up and I was here.”

I hear the gun clicking.  “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes,” I manage to say.  

“I don’t think he’s lying,” she speaks up again.  “Come on, okay? Everything is all right.”

It occurs to me that he’s terrified of being caught.  That means that he’s not a professional, which means I haven’t been kidnapped by a militant terrorist group, or the Crips.  I guess that’s a good thing.  I might be able to outsmart him if I pay attention and don’t lose my mind when they leave me here alone to suffer again.  Maybe I can work on some melodies in my head, or play some kind of guessing game to keep myself stimulated.

Fuck, am I seriously analyzing what I’m going to do to pass the time right now?

“All right, fine,” the guy mutters.

 A moment later I feel the steel of the gun being pulled away from my head, and it causes me to let out a long breath.  “Please just tell me how much you want,” I say after a moment.  “It’s not an issue, I just want to go home.”

“That really depends,” the guy says.  “I mean, you’re in here.  You can’t get us the money.  It’s up to your family, and how charitable they’re willing to be.  How much do you think you can get out of them if you cry?”

This guy is a fucking asshole.  If I cry? Seriously? I am not crying in front of either of these two, and I’m certainly not going to break down and cry on the phone with my mom.  It’ll only send her into a panic, and that’s the last thing she needs to be doing.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, my mom is strong, but I seriously doubt she was prepared for this.  I want her to keep herself composed, and manage the situation like I know she can.  “I’m not gonna cry,” I scoff.

“Oh you’ll cry,” he says with a little laugh.  “Crying always gets more money.  Don’t you watch network TV?”

“Yeah, because that’s so real.” I roll my eyes through the blindfold, and receive a swift kick to the stomach a moment later.  “Fuck.” I cough and collapse onto my side.  “What the hell?”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” he grunts after a moment.  

I try to listen out for the girl.  She’s nice, maybe she can give me some water.  But I don’t hear a sound coming out of her, which means she either left or she’s huddled in the corner of the room, scared to death of this guy and what he’ll do next.  The steel of the gun is back now though, and it makes me forget about the girl and my lack of water for the moment.  It’s pressed squarely in the center of my forehead, and I’ve never been more terrified.  

“I want to know how much you can get me, Justin.  If you can’t do that, let me know, and I’ll shoot you right now so I can find somebody else who can answer a simple. Fucking. Question.”

“What?” I say, coughing a little more.  My stomach is killing me now, and I wish like hell I could get up and bust out of these fucking handcuffs so I could kick this guys ass.   “I don’t fucking know man...I don’t know what you’re looking for.  Hell, just name the price, okay?”

“I think enough to cover what we owe is good enough, don’t you?”

It’s her again, and I’m sort of thankful.  She seems to be on my side, and I know...I know if I just get her alone with me again I might be able to convince her to help me.  I”m good at that...convincing.  It’s half the reason why my album came out the way it did, because I had a lot of input on it and didn’t let pushy executives tell me what to do.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up, Sam?  I distinctly remember saying that to you about five minutes ago.”

Sam.  Sam...maybe short for Samantha.  Yeah, that’s gotta be it, and I don’t know why he would have let that slip out.  Maybe its a code name or something, yeah.  It doesn’t matter, I’ll tuck it away for later anyway.  

“Sorry,” I hear her say quietly.

“Look,” I say a moment later, having formulated an idea in my head during the few moments they were bickering.  “Why don’t you just call my family and let me tell them that I’m okay.  I think they’ll be more willing to get you want you want if they know I’m not dead.”

“You’ll get to say your piece.  I’m not doing anything with phones here.  With my luck, they’ll trace the phone call back here and then we’ll all be fuckin dead.”

“They’re not going to give you anything unless they can talk to me,” I explain, trying to keep my voice calm. “Come on, that’s logical.”

“Who do you think you are?” he laughs.  “LIttle rich mother fucker, trying to tell me how to run my shit.  I know what I’m doing, so just fucking tell me how much money you think you’re worth, Justin.  I’ll take it from there.”

I know what I’m worth, but hell will freeze over before I tell him just how much.  I’d tell him a million, but I don’t think that he’s that naive, and I don’t want to get kicked in the gut again.  “Ten million,” I mutter, knowing that it’s a bulky number, but no where near the amount that I have stored away in my bank accounts.

“That’s a nice, round number.”  He snickers, his voice full of greed.  “How long do you think it will take for them to get it?”

“Hell if I know,” I grunt.  I’m tired of his fucking questions.  Let him hit me, at least that way I can pass out or whatever.  “It’s in the bank.  They’d have to withdraw and that’s a lot of money.  You do the math.”

“Must be great being so fuckin loaded,” he says to me bitterly.  I can feel him close to me now, his stinky breath hot in my face as the gun is pressed harder into my head.  “You want to live to spend your money again?”

“Of course,” I whisper.

“Then make sure you stop being a smart ass.”

This time I’m kicked in the face, and I cry out a little bit, as I feel the blood oozing down my forehead, tasting it as it enters my mouth.  “Shit,” I whimper.

“Stop it!” She yells, and a moment later, I feel her at my side, picking me back up and leaning me against the wall.

“What’s gotten into you, Sam?” I hear him say gruffly.  “Quit being so fucking sentimental.”

“He didn’t do anything to you.” She’s sobbing now, and I feel something soft wiping the blood off of my face.  “Just stop it, okay?”

“We need to have a chat.”  He says, and a moment later I feel her being yanked away from me, feeling horrible as she whimpers when I hear her body collide with what I’m pretty sure is the door.  

“Do you understand what I’m doing for us?”  He barks at her, as she continues to whimper.  “This is our ticket, Sam. This is our way out.”

“It’s too much,” she cries.  “I can’t do this.”r32;

“You have to do this, because if you don’t, I’m going to let him go and he’ll rat you out to the cops.  He saw your face, and so...you don’t have a choice, do you Sam?”

I lay on the floor again, the pain from my head and gut practically paralyzing me.  I can’t stop thinking about her.  I’m smart enough to realize that I have an advantage.  He’s stupid and she has a good heart.  I can use both of them to get out of here.  Her more so than him.  All I have to do is talk to her, convince her that helping me get out of here is better than staying here and rotting with him.  I have to do it, no matter how much pain I’m in and no matter what kind of fucked up things he says to me or my family.  Strength is key, and if I lose it...

I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere except into a shallow grave.

“I’m going to the store to get the stuff I rented,” he says after awhile.  “You get him cleaned up.  Make sure he behaves himself, and let him piss...if he can get up,” he chuckles.  “I’ll be back in an hour.”

I hear the door swing open and closed again, and I’m able to breath normally now, knowing that there shouldn’t be anymore guns pressed to my head until he returns.  “Hey,” I say when I don’t hear her making any noise.  “Hey can you take this thing off my eyes?”

“No,” she whimpers.  “I...I don’t want you to see my face again.”

I sigh heavily.  “It’s kind of late for that, you know?”

She’s quiet for awhile, probably taking in everything that just happened.  I’d try to console her.  I mean, she seems like a nice girl, but how fucked up would that be?  As much as I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise, she’s one of my kidnappers.  I shouldn’t care how she feels or how scared she is.

 “I’m sorry he hit you,” she finally says.  “I asked him on the way here if he could control himself.  But...he’s not really good at that.”

“Obviously,” I mutter.

It takes a few minutes, but the blindfold is finally yanked down around my neck.  I squint for a minute, shielding my eyes with my chained hands, before I’m able to look at her again.  “Thanks.”

“I’m doomed,” she says quietly.

I look at her for awhile, and chuckle sadly.  “I hate to clue you in, girl, but I’m the one that’s chained to the wall.”

She shakes her head, her eyes becoming a little wider as she picks up the towel stained with my blood  and starts to wipe off my face again.  “You don’t know him,” she tells me.  “He really meant what he said about letting you go and having the cops find me.  God...”  She stops what she’s doing and reaches into her pocket,  producing a small baggie with a white powdery substance inside of it.

I’d be crazy if I said I didn’t know what it was.  I’ve tried coke a few times, as a party drug, but I’ve never done it as a weekly ritual or anything.  The high is okay, but I’ve had better just by getting drunk off my ass.  It’s apparent to me that she does this on the regular though.  She needs it, and it’s really sad.  The more I look at her, the more I think about what a pretty girl she is, and I wonder how she let herself get mixed up with such an asshole.  “It’s Sam, right?”

She pulls a small wooden box over to her that had been resting in the corner, and starts to break the coke up on its flat surface.  “You don’t have to rub it in my face,” she sighs.  “He did it on purpose.  He promised he wouldn’t say my name if I didn’t say his and he went back on his word,” she moans.  “What do I do now?  I don’t want to hurt you, but you know my name and what I look like.  If he tells me to kill you I have to do it.  I can’t...I can’t go to jail for the rest of my life.”

“I wouldn’t rat you out,” I tell her softly.

She starts to roll up a piece of paper she found on the floor, and scoffs a little.  “I can’t believe you,” she says quickly, as she finishes rolling the paper and starts to snort the lines she broke up for herself.

“Who are you to call me a liar?” I persist, trying to keep the strength in my voice despite the fact that I’m in so much pain right now.  “You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.  Look, we have an hour.  If you’d just take these cuffs off me, I could go and we can forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Oh come on,” she says, having finished her drugs.  “You’re a celebrity right?  Everybody is looking for you by now.  What would you tell them, that you got lost or something?”

I shrug my shoulders.  Really, I know I wouldn’t be able to bullshit about what happened to me. I disappeared at my best friends birthday celebration.  They’d never believe that I did it willingly.  Girl or no girl, Trace and Rachael know I would have said something, and I wouldn’t have left that club without some kind of security escort.  “I dunno.  I’d probably tell them the truth but I wouldn’t give you up,” I say, convincingly.  “I’d tell them I didn’t see anybodies face.”

“You know, you’re totally charming,” she says, as if a huge weight has just been lifted off her shoulders and I know the drugs have taken their affect on her now.  “I wish I could believe you, but I can’t.  So let me just help you up so you can pee before Charlie comes back.”

Charlie.  I try to maintain my composure over the new information she just handed over to me, but I can’t help the smirk that makes its way onto my face.

“Fuck, I didn’t just say that,” she says frantically.  “Oh shit...”

“Hey, calm down,” I tell her calmly.  “He said your name didn’t he?  It’s only fair.”

“No...you don’t get it!” She exclaims.  “He’ll kill me.”

I think about what just happened for a few moments, trying the best I can to drown out the pounding in my head.  Trust and strength are key, I know that.  She needs to be able to trust me.  “Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m not saying anything,” I tell her quickly.  “He’ll never know.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

I stare at her, not really being able to come up with a good answer.  I could tell her its just because I want her to trust me, but she might get it into her head that I’m using her, and I don’t want that.  “Because...” I begin with a sigh.  “It’s not going to get me out of here any faster, and, you know, you haven’t been all that terrible to me so far.”

She smiles a little bit, seemingly reassured by what I just told her.  That’s good.  Real good.  She’s starting to trust me just a little bit, and if I know anything from watching Dateline with Rachael, that’s the best thing you can do when you’re in a situation like this...stay calm and earn your captors trust.  When I see her again, I guess I’m going to have to tell her that she did the right thing by forcing me to watch that damn show all those nights with her.

I really hope I get to see her again.

“Here, give me your hands,” she says a moment later, producing a small key out of her front pocket.  

I hold them up, letting her separate my handcuffs from the long chain that attaches them to the wall.  Yeah, I can move a little more now, but I’m still not completely free, and when she does the same thing to the chains around my ankles, I frown.  It’s going to be hard getting away from her like this, but...I know myself.  I’m gutsy, you have to be in the business I’m in, and I know that I need to try and get away.  Sure, she has a gun, but she’s so fucking unstable I don’t even know if she’d be able to use it right now.  The cuffs on my ankles have a chain that allows enough movement for me to run a little, I just have to make sure I don’t trip and fall.  But I’m a dancer, have been all my life.  I’m limber, able to conquer some of the most advanced choreography out there.  I know I can do this.  I have to.

I have to get out of here.

“Come on.”  

She helps me to my feet and pushes me forward, not taking the gun out of her pants.  For the first time, I’m led through the doorway, and I hold my breath in anticipation, hoping that when I walk outside I’ll be able to tell where I am.  But my hope is quickly sucked away when the cool fall air hits my face.  It feels good, yeah, but that’s about the only thing that gives me any sort of a positive feeling.  There is absolutely nothing around at all.  I look back at the building they’ve been keeping me in, and find it’s nothing more than a run down, half trailer with boarded up windows.  I look in every direction, only seeing what seems like miles and miles of old, cracked, pavement, and a rusty looking chain link fence.  She’s having me walk towards a run down looking port o potty, and I don’t know what to do.  I mean, there must be some civilization around here.  They obviously came from some place, but I’m sure they have a car too.  I can’t give up though.  No, I need to try.

“Hey, come on and pee,” she tells me gently after she opens the port o potty door.  “I don’t know when you’ll be able to do it again.”

“Do you think you could uh...” I raise my arms up and motion to the cuffs on my wrists.  “It’ll be hard otherwise.”  I give her a charming little smirk, that usually helps me get out of predicaments in my regular life.

She eyes my handcuffs for awhile before looking back at me.  “I’m not supposed to.”

“Come on,” I say, trying to look uncomfortable so she’ll think I really have to pee.  “Nobody has to know.  You can trust me, Sam.”  I give her the most pathetic look I can manage, and it gets her to sigh after awhile.  I know I’ve won her over.

“All right,” she sighs.  “Just...go in first and I’ll do it.”

I nod and step backwards into the darkness of the toilet, holding my hands out and praying that she doesn’t change her mind.  Then she does it, she takes them off.  For a moment I stand there and stare at her, as she toys with them in her hands.  Is this really happening? Or am I still drugged inside that little hellhole, dreaming?  I don’t have time to decide though, because I don’t know how much time she’s going to give me out here, or if that Charlie guy is going to come back early.  

“Are you gonna go?” She asks impatiently.

“Yeah.”  I wait a moment more, pretending like I’m about to turn around, but then I lunge at her, and tackle her to the ground.  She screams a little bit, but not loud enough for anybody to really hear, and I roll off of her, managing to get to my feet quickly and I take off.  It’s hard to run. The damn chain keeps tripping me up, causing me to almost fall flat on my face, but I somehow manage to stay just ahead of her.  “Help me!” I call out, praying that some stray car will drive by and hear me.

“Get back here!” She screams

I feel her hand connect with my shoulder, and I quickly turn to push her down again.  She falls, and I run further along, being able to see the chain link fence part to an opening several hundred feet away.  I have to make it there.  I have to find the road.

Home...I want to go home.

A half step later I trip and fall on my face, just like I promised myself I wasn’t going to do.  The right side of my face collides with the pavement, and I can feel the skin being scraped raw.  I flinch in pain, but I don’t let it slow me down.  I get up again, and start to run, but then...

Then that coldness is there again, pressing into my back, and I stop dead in my tracks.

“You...you said...I... I could trust you,” she says to me, completely out of breath.

She presses the gun harder into my back, and I wince.  I’m stupid, so stupid.  How could I think I’d get away from her with this fucking chain? Even if I got to the fence opening, she’d catch up with me...or that asshole would. “All...All right,” I say slowly, raising my hands above my head so she’ll know she’s in control.  “Just, put the gun down.”

“No,” she whimpers.  “He left me in charge, and look what I let happen!”

I don’t say anything.  I feel so damn weak right now, not being able to get away from this tiny little girl. Seriously, she can’t weigh more than one twenty, if that, and here I am with my hands raised like she’s as big as Eric.  Pathetic.

“Don’t move.”  
 
I don’t feel the gun in my back anymore, but I know better than to try anything.  She’s out of her mind right now, high on cocaine, and I have no idea if she’s really capable of shooting me dead or not.  I feel her yank my arms behind me after a moment, and I flinch as the cold metal of the cuffs bites into my skin.  Then the gun is there again, and I’m shoved forward.  

‘I can’t believe you did that,” she says, shoving me down onto the mattress once we’re back inside the isolation of the trailer again.  “Look at your face.  You’re all bloody...god damn it.”

I look up at the ceiling as she reattaches all the chains to me like I’m a fucking animal.  “I didn’t get to pee,” I mutter, trying to prop myself up against the wall better since my hands are cuffed behind me now.

“Oh fucking well.”  She glares at me.

I can’t believe it.  The one chance I had to get away and I blew it.  I wonder why I couldn’t have just run a little faster, hit her a little harder so she’d have been knocked unconscious, yelled a little louder so somebody would have heard me.  I just didn’t try hard enough, almost like the time I debuted Like I Love You at the VMA’s and fucked up half the choreography.  I didn’t try hard enough then either, even though my mom told me that I was ‘amazing’.  

I can’t believe I’m comparing this to fucking Like I Love You.

“You can’t just do that,” she snaps at me once she finishes chaining my feet to the floor.  “You know, you act all gentle, like you’re just going to go along with everything, and then you do the exact opposite.”

“What the hell do you expect?” I grunt.  “I don’t wanna be in this fuck hole.”

She begins to pace the room nervously, and I know it’s mostly the drugs that are making her so jumpy right now. “And I do?  Look, I...I didn’t want to do this at all, but there was no other choice. I’m sorry, okay?  I’m trying to make your time here a little bit better but I can’t do anything for you if you’re going to try and get away every time you get the opportunity.”  She stops suddenly and turns to face me, her hands on her hips, expression stern.  “You can’t pull that in front of Charlie,” she whispers.  “He’ll flip out, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He already hurt me. Didn’t you see him kick me in the face?” I grumble, looking down at my lap.  I can’t look at her anymore.  I find that I’m growing angrier and angrier the more I look into her eyes, because I’m so pissed at myself for succumbing to her and her gun.  “What more can he do?”

“Kill you.”

The stone coldness in her voice forces me to look up at her next, and I swallow hard.  She knows what Charlie is capable of, and I haven’t had the chance to get to know him well enough yet, but I know I should probably take her advice.  “He wants his money.  He can’t kill me yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.  “When he’s angry, he’s uncontrollable, okay?  He’d kill you, then gripe about how he shouldn’t have, only then it will be too late.  Just take my advice, Justin.  Okay?”

She says my name like she’s known me forever, almost reminding me of Rachael for a split second before I remember that she would kick my ass right now if she knew I was comparing her to this psycho.  No, Sam is nothing like Rachael.  Rachael would never do something this sick and twisted to me.  “I can’t promise you I won’t run again,” I tell her, honestly.  “I’m not the type of person to just sit on my ass and let people tell me what to do.  If I get an opportunity, I’m going to take it.”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t get one,” she tells me, her gaze stern.  “I’ll tell him you tried to run, then he’ll never let me take you to the bathroom again.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” I snap at her, and look at the wall, hoping she’ll just go away.  I don’t understand her, not at all.  How the hell can she stand here and talk to me like she’s my friend?  She’s the one who helped get me here in this fucking place, and now she’s trying to help me?  It just doesn’t make any sense and I was stupid to think I could befriend her or trust her.  Sure, she hasn’t hit me, but she’s just as much of a criminal as Charlie is.  

“You don’t have to be so mean,” she tells me with a roll of her eyes.

“You got me chained to a fucking wall!” I yell.  “I haven’t eaten, I haven’t peed, and I haven’t talked to my family, who by the way, probably think I’m lying dead in a gutter some place.  Put yourself in my shoes, Sam.  Maybe you’ll be able to understand a little bit better that way.”

She crosses her arms and shakes her head as she backs up against the wall.  “Just calm down,” she grunts.  “Did you ever think that this is being done for your own good?  I mean, look at you...you’re rich and famous.  You don’t have to worry about what goes on in the real world.  Let it be a life lesson for you.”

I can’t even look at her right now.  Is she fucking serious?  Kidnapping me is going to teach me a life lesson?  That must be some really great coke she has, because that made absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.  “That’s fucking stupid,” I grunt.  “I’m not this big cocky asshole, you know.  You don’t know me.”

She shrugs and sighs, as she kicks back from the wall and crouches down before me.  “I don’t have to know you.  I just know what you are and how you live, and I’d give anything to be in your shoes.”

I finally meet her gaze.  Her eyes are full of honesty, and I wish I could hate her...I do, but I just can’t do it.  I can see how genuine she is, and I’m tempted to ask her what her place is in all of this, how she allowed herself to fall to this level and live like a common junkie.  I don’t know what good it would do me though.  I have no reason to get to know her, or her backstory.  The only thing I really need to focus on is getting out of here, but as the hours tick by, I’m starting to lose myself in all of this.  I just don’t get that.  I should be panicking, trying to make my presence known or something, but I’m just sitting here instead after a pathetic attempt at escape.

Maybe I’m just fucking weak.  

“Are you going to tell him I ran,” I ask her after awhile.  

She’s still crouched in front of me, tracing a pattern  into the dirty floor with her finger.  For awhile she doesn’t look at me, but when she does, I finally realize how much she really doesn’t want to be doing this to me.  There’s so much sympathy in her eyes, and I know I need to find a way to use it for my own benefit.  “No,” she murmurs.  “I was just going to tell him you fell on your way to the bathroom, and that you struggled so I cuffed your hands behind you because I was afraid you’d be too strong for me.”

I give her a skeptical look.  “And he’s going to buy that?”

She just shrugs.  “He will if I do it right.”

I watch her get up, and she goes back to lean against the wall like she was before.  I’m tempted to make more small talk with her, but hell...I really don’t know why.  I shouldn’t be telling her about my personal life.  It’s the one thing I have left that hasn’t been taken complete control of yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.  No, I’ll just look at the floor, at least until our lovely Mr. Charlie comes back to grace us with his wonderful personality.

It’s quiet for a really long time.  I don’t look at her, and she doesn’t look at me.  I try to focus on the chain instead, looking for an imperfection, a loose screw or something, but I’m only fooling myself.  It frustrates me that I’m trapped like an animal, and I lean my head back against the wall again, begging for some kind of comfort to wash over me.  My arm muscles ache.  I think I have an itch on every part of my body that I can’t scratch.  For a moment I’m tempted to ask Sam to help me out, but I should know better.  I don’t want her fucking touching me, so I convince myself to shut up.

Then the car motor comes, clear as day, so close to this little box they’re keeping me in.  My heart fills with hope.  The police, yes, they found me because Trace saw Same and Charlie take me away and wrote down the license plate.  I’m saved.  I’ll be with momma and Rachael and...r32;

“Don’t say anything.”

The blindfold is yanked back up over my eyes again, and tightened.  It’s not the police.  I’m not going to see Momma or anybody else besides Sam and Charlie for a really long time.  “Please don’t do this,” I whimper, hating that I’ve become so hopeless in a matter of seconds.  

“I have to,” she whispers.

The door is banged open again, and shuts just as quickly.

“Well?”

I hear a bunch of stuff being dropped to the ground, and I jump a little bit.

“Well, what?” Sam’s voice comes softly after a few moments.

“Something must have happened,” I hear Charlie laugh a moment later.  “His face is all scratched.”

“He just...fell, and it was hard for me to control him so I cuffed his hands behind him,” she tells him gently.  “Did you have a problem at the store?”

I hold my breath, praying to god that he won’t ask anymore questions.  For the first time I realize that Sam is right about Charlie killing me.  I don’t know him, but I do know that he’s violent, and out of control.  If she tells him I ran, I know I’m done for.  I was stupid to run.  So stupid.

“No.” His voice comes after a few very long moments.  “No trouble.”

Just as I think I’m in the clear, that he’ll probably call my family next and I’ll have a little bit more sense of security than I do now, I feel the coldness of the gun pressing into the underside of my chin.  It causes my head to point straight up, and I swallow really hard.  

“So you were behaved for the most part,” he snickers.  “That’s real good, Justin.”

“Yeah,” I croak.

“I’m going to record you,” he tells me, almost playfully.  “And I want you to say...you know, whatever you think is best.”

I don’t get it.  “What?”

I’m shoved hard into the wall.  “You’re going to tell them that I want my ten million dollars, or they’re going to find your body parts strewn all over Los Angeles.  Do you get it now?”

Fucking psycho.  “Yes,” I say, through gritted teeth.  

“Great,” he snickers.  “Baby, get that set up over there.”

So she is his girlfriend.

I hear a lot of clicking, metal being snapped together, and things being placed harshly onto the ground.  Charlie the asshole doesn’t take his gun away, and I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life.  It seems like hours he keeps me in this position, and I don’t get it.  I’m not going anywhere, so the only natural solution I can think of is that he’s actually enjoying scaring the shit out of me.  That makes me want to kick his ass really good.

I wish I could.

“All right.  Done.”  I hear Sam say, finally.  “It’s recording.”

The gun is finally removed from under my chin, and I’m allowed about five seconds to catch my breath, before I feel it being pressed into the side of my head again.  “Now what?” I mutter.

“Start talking.” Charlie’s voice comes gruffly.  

I don’t even know where to begin.  It’s obvious to me that this is a tape my family and friends are going to see.  That’s just fucking great.  What better way to reassure them that I’m not going to die here, than to make of tape of me with a gun shoved into my head?  Fuck, I don’t want them to see me like this either...weak, chained, and blindfolded, but there’s nothing I can do.  This is the way he wants to do things, obviously, and he’s actually kind of smart for coming up with it.  I’m sure they can’t trace the tape back to this hellhole, and that makes it harder for Charlie to get caught.  Great.  Now I’ll be stuck here forever.

“Talk!” He yells.

I don’t even know how to begin, but I don’t want to ask questions.  If I do, I’ll probably get kicked in the gut or punched the face, and since I’m still in pain from the blows I was dealt earlier, I’ll be creative.  I’m good at that, being creative.  It’s why I have so much money.

It’s also why I’m stuck here.

“Mom,” I manage to say, glad that I’m blindfolded so I don’t have to see Sam’s expression right now.  “Mom, I’m alive.  You have to get ten million dollars together, or I guess they’re going to kill me.”

I’m punched in the face.

“Cut the tape!” I hear his voice boom a moment later.

I’m on my side again, taking slow, even breaths, hoping that it will somehow numb the throbbing portion of my face.  “What did I do?” I ask after awhile.  

“You don’t say “they”,” he sneers, his breath hot in my face again, the gun being pressed even harder into my head this time.  “You think I don’t know your tricks, asshole? You want me to get caught, you want them to know that there is more than one of us.  Real nice.  See that Sam?  He’s trying to fuck us both, and you want to be nice to him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”r32;

“You know, you’re both fucking useless,” he snaps, completely frustrated.  “I have to do everything myself don’t I?  Might as well just kill him now and pretend he’s still alive.  His family is probably dumb enough to buy it.”

I don’t answer him, and Sam doesn’t say another word.  I’m paralyzed with fear now, wondering if he’s going to give up and shoot me dead right here.  God, I’m not fucking ready.  I haven’t been given my fair chance to fight.  I can’t just die here, chained up like this, defenseless.  That would just be entirely too fucked up, and I’m a good person...yeah.  I might be cocky at times, but I’ve never done anything so horrible to deserve to die like this.  “Just let me try again,” I hear myself say after awhile, not knowing how I managed to get the guts up to do it.  “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Damn right you weren’t thinking.”

“Listen Justin.”

It’s Sam now.  So weird, she’s never been one to speak up in front of him, but then again, I haven’t been here all that long.  I mean, it’s obvious that she’s his girlfriend, so there must be a reason he keeps her around.  Maybe she’s gutsier than I think.  Granted, he’s a bastard and treats her like shit, but she’s not all sunshine and daisy’s herself.  “Huh?”

“Just tell them that you’ve been kidnapped, you need ten million dollars in three days to get out of it, or you’ll be dead.  It’s that simple.  Don’t try to pull any names out, or say how many of us there are okay?  Otherwise you’ll be in a lot more pain than you are now.”

I tremble a little because I never thought I’d hear the girl talk like that.  I have to remember that she’s a criminal.  I have to.  Sure, she can be nice but right now she’s getting down to business, and it’s obvious she wants this money just as badly as Charlie does.  “All right,” I croak.

“See?” she says brightly.  “He gets it.  Now can we get this done?  I’m fucking starving.”

Food.  Now that I think about it, I realize that I’m fucking starving too.  Too bad they don’t care.  Too bad they’re probably going to leave me here to starve all night once this video thing is taken care of.  I feel the firm pressing of the gun to my head a moment later, making me forget all about how hungry I am.  The gruff sound of “talk” is barked at me again, and I know it’s my last chance to say what I’m supposed to before Charlie gets pissed off and shoots me after all.

“Mom,” I begin again, sucking in a breath.  I can picture her on the sofa, Paul, Trace, and Rachael at her side as they watch this horrific shit on my big screen TV.  It makes me want to cry, and I know that’s what he wants.  I can’t let myself do it.  I can’t.  “Mom,” I sob out.

Fucking damn it.

“I’ve been kidnapped, but when you get this I’ll still be alive,” I say a moment later, trying to get my composure together.  “You have to get ten million dollars together in three days, otherwise I’ll be killed.  Please just do it,” I whimper, hanging my head low.  “I want to come home.”

“Damn Justin.” I hear Charlie’s evil laugh come a few moments later.  “That was some kind of Barbara Walter’s shit right there.  See? Crying does make the difference, and I’m willing to bet that somehow, this video will make it onto the evening news.  Hell, maybe you’ll win another award, for best pussy in a dramatic role.”

He rubs my head like I’m five years old, and I fucking hate it.  I hate him, I hate his fucking junky girlfriend.  I hate how much pain I’m in, and I hate that I can’t fucking move.  “Fuck you,” I snap.  

This time he just laughs at me.  He laughs at how pathetic I am.  “Man, that was too much fun for one day.  You know what, Sam? I’m gonna take you to dinner tonight too.  There’s that new steak joint up on the other side of town.  It’ll be great.  Meat and potatoes, and all the drinks you want for ten bucks a person.”

My mouth starts to water a little, and I know he’s doing it on purpose.  I don’t say anything though.  I know it will only cause him to laugh harder, or hit me again.

“He hasn’t eaten,” Sam speaks up after awhile.  “We should get him something, don’t you think?”

“Fuck, girl.  I ain’t payin’ for his ass to eat.”

“God, you know, you’re impossible.”  I hear something being picked up off the ground, most likely the camera equipment.  “Just take this stuff to the car okay? I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

“Hey I’m just saying, he hasn’t done anything for us, so why should we feed him too?” Charlie’s voice comes a moment later, full of enthusiasm.  It’s apparent that all of this has put him in a great mood, most likely because he thinks his plan is working.

I hope it backfires in his fucking face, even if I have to die because of it.

“We’ll talk in the car,” Sam reminds him with a small laugh.

“Drug him before you leave,” Charlie tells her after a moment.  “We ain’t coming back and I don’t need him screaming into the night.”

“Baby, come on,” she groans.  “That’s not necessary.”

“You don’t tell me what’s necessary.” His voice is dark again, the enthusiasm gone from his voice.  “Do it, Sam.”

I groan at the prospect of the drugs taking their effect on me again.  I don’t want to feel that way, paralyzed, confused.  It makes no sense.  I can’t get out of here anyway, and nobody can hear me.  Torture is the only reason he wants to do it, and I fucking hate him.  The first chance I get, his ass is mine.

“Fine,” Sam says quietly.  “I’ll meet you in the car.”

I hear his footsteps, and I’m almost positive that he’s leaving, but then I feel the gun to my head again, and I groan in despair.  “You better not give her any trouble, either,” he warns me.  “If I hear a bad report, I’m not going to be happy, and you don’t want me to have to come back in here.”

Behind the blindfold I’m giving him the look of death, but since he can’t see it, I know there’s no sense in doing it for long.  “Fine,” I tell him angrily.

The gun is gone, and then I hear the door open and close.  He’s gone, and all I can do is scrunch my knees up as far as they will go into my chest and lean against the wall.  Fuck it all, I think to myself.  Nothing matters anymore.  I’ve just been fucking humiliated on video and it’s going to scare the crap out of my family.  Shit, they’re going to get put through all of this, and I don’t even know if I’ll be alive in the end.  I feel myself shudder, then sob, then start to cry like a fucking baby.  I hate myself for it, but at least Charlie isn’t here to see it.

“Justin.”

I feel the warmness of her hand to my face, gently pulling the blindfold down around my neck again.  I squint, feeling several tears glide down my face as I do so.  “Just leave me alone,”I tell her.  

“Come on, you have to be stronger than that.” Her hand rubs my shoulder gently.  “I’m...I”m sorry you had to do that..”

“You’re sorry!” I yell at her.  “I had to fucking...humiliate myself on tape for my family to see.  They’re going to shit themselves when they get it, and you’re sorry? Fuck, Sam...just leave me the hell alone okay?  Don’t touch me.  Go fuck your psycho boyfriend and snort some more lines of coke.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, and I simply look at the wall and wait for her to force the drugs down my throat so she’ll leave.  Charlie is waiting for her, and I know she probably only has about ten minutes.  Now that I think about it, being forced to pass out right now will be good for me.  I won’t have to sit here and dwell on anything.  Maybe I’ll even have a couple of nice dreams about being at home with my dogs...

Hopefully Shelly will stay out of them.

I wonder if she knows this has happened.

If she has, I have no idea how she’s reacting. If she’s with my family or simply ignoring the situation like she did to our relationship during the last two or three months we were together.  I’ve hated her for so long now, that thinking about her sitting there with my mother, comforting her, is so alien like to me.  I bet Trace would call her on it, tell her how shitty she was to me and that she shouldn’t be there.  I hope he does.  I hope he makes her feel as out of place as she made me.

“I’ll bring you some food later, after Charlie goes to sleep,” she whispers to me a few moments later.  “Maybe we can talk a little bit.  It’ll keep you sane, you know?”

“I’m not talking to you,” I mutter.  “Fucking psycho kidnapper that you are.”

She laughs bitterly.  “You know, that’s fine.  If that’s how you want to be, I’ll just drug you like he said, and ignore you.  It’s obvious that you don’t want my help.”

It’s taken me hours to come to this realization of course, but I know it’s true.  Deep down, Sam is a good person.  I can feel it when she’s around me.  When she makes stupid ass jokes and makes sure I’m okay.  When she let’s me know that it was never her intention for me to be terrified or tortured.  She was stuck in the middle of something terrible with Charlie, and this was his solution to getting out of it.  I can’t help but think that they kidnapped me to settle some kind of debt.  I just can’t see Sam willingly holding a gun to my head otherwise.  She doesn’t seem to have it in her to be evil.  Charlie yes, her no.  Her life is at stake, I just know it is, and I really wish there were a way for me to solve her problems without being  handcuffed and drugged.

But there’s nothing I can do.

It’s obvious that this is Charlie’s way of handling things, and nobody is going to talk him out of it.  He planned this whole thing out, fixed up this place so I wouldn’t be able to escape, and is forcing my family to give him an obscene amount of money so not only will his life and Sam’s life be saved, but they’ll be able to move to Argentia or wherever the fuck they want and live the good life as well.  It should anger me, make me really bitter and resentful towards the both of them.  I guess I do feel that way towards Charlie too, but despite the fact of how fucked up it is,  I don’t feel the same way towards Sam.  I almost want her to be happy when this thing is all over.  

I think I might feel good knowing she’s going to be taken care of.

I mean, as long as things go over well...if I’m still alive in the end of all this.

I got sick before.  It seems like hours ago but I can’t really be sure.  It tasted like stomach acid and ketchup, and all I could think was that I shouldn’t have eaten those greasy cheeseburgers Sam brought. The dried vomit is lying in the corner still, and it fucking smells.  I’m trying to ignore it, but it’s really hard, and I hope that Sam comes here soon to clean it up.  It seems like she’s been gone for an eternity.  The time seems to stand still here.  There’s no sunrise, or sunset.  No clock to tell me how much closer I’m coming to my untimely death here in this fucking box.  The only thing I hear is the constant buzzing of the fluorescent light hanging over me.  It’s driving me fucking crazy.  Before, I tried to make a game out of it.  I tried to pick out the pitch of the buzz, start up a little melody in my head with my eyes closed, hoping like hell that it would help.  It didn’t help.  I have too much on my mind right now to be creative, and I wish like hell that I could stand up...stand on that little wooden box in the corner and rip the light down.  Sure it would be dark, but at least it would be quiet in here.  It seems as the more time passes, the louder the buzzing gets.  I know it’s all psychological, so that means I must be losing it.  Shit, I’m losing it and I know I haven’t been here all that long.

Fuck, I need to talk to somebody.  I need my mom, or Trace, to set me straight, let me know that they’re going to figure this out and get me out of here soon.  Sam said she’d try too.  She’d try to get me on the phone with them.  But the more I hope that she’ll come walking through the door any minute, phone in her hand and a smile on her face, the more I know I’m dreaming.  Charlie is way too paranoid to let me talk to anybody.  The video was the purpose of proving that I’m still alive and I have to believe it will put my family at ease.  I have to allow that to calm me.

I need to be strong, suck it up, and hope for the best.

The trip Sam and I took to the port o potty last night was entertaining.  I didn’t expect her to take my handcuffs off, but I didn’t think she’d have the guts to pull my pants and boxers down, either.  I tried to pretend I was back home with my friends, drunk or something, and Sam was a part our little group.  That she did it on a dare because Trace told her she’d never do it in a million years, and I had agreed.  It amused me, made me forget that I was inside a foul smelling port o potty, and enabled me to be myself for a few minutes.  When we came into the light again, she was blushing too.  

It was like we were friends.  Like I wasn’t kidnapped at all.

Then she chained me up again.

I’ve been laying here ever since she left, trying to figure her out.  I keep asking myself where she came from, why she lets Charlie slap her around and degrade her, what I can do to convince her she’s better than all of it.  Fuck, am I going nuts? Is she? Or do we simply have a weird, uncanny connection?  We shouldn’t, and I know why, but at the same time I don’t think it’s something that can be helped.  When we’re alone we just...get along.  She has to do certain things to me and I don’t blame her.  But she doesn’t hit me.  She doesn’t threaten me really at all, unless Charlie is provoking her.  I know I can use her...I have to.  She could be the key to my freedom.

But the more I see her, the more I make her laugh and she makes me feel comforted, the more I don’t want to put her at risk.  

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I force myself to sit up, and slide myself against the wall, bending from side to side so some of my muscles can be stretched out.  My arms and hands keep going numb from the lack of circulation, and I hope Sam will let me stretch a little bit when she comes back.  It’s maddening, being chained up like this.  I feel like a fucking animal more and more, and it makes me want to hate her, but I can’t do it.  It makes me hate Charlie even more.  I want to kick his fucking ass the next time he comes here, despite the fact that I’ll be blindfolded with gun to my head.  I don’t care.  I just...want him to know how I feel.  I want him to be scared too.

But something tells me that scaring Charlie is easier said than done.

I hear the rumbling of a car engine drawing closer, and as always, my heart skips a beat with the small glimmer of hope that it’s somebody coming to help me, instead of Charlie coming to terrorize me.  But of course, I know that’s not the case.  I saw it outside.  I’m in the middle of nowhere, and nobody is going to stumble upon me accidentally.  When I woke up from the drugs last night...before Sam came, I felt so fucking hopeless.  I was alone.  There were no sounds of encouragement.  I was still chained, and the welts on my face were throbbing, mocking me...telling me that I had no chance at all of survival, that I might as well give up because I was going to get shot in the head anyway.  I cried.  I cried for a long time.

Then Sam was there, helping me to see past my hopelessness, her mere presence giving me strength, telling me I had somebody watching out for me.  That I was going to get out of this alive.

The door bursts open a minute later, and my eyes widen when I see her rush into the room and shut the door behind her.  “Sam.” I whisper.

“You have to be quick.  I mean, quicker than quick.”  She pulls a cell phone out of her purse.  It has some weird contraption attached to it, which I’m figuring is a trace blocker or something.  “I called and...and I don’t remember his name right now because I’m going a little crazy, but he said that the tape was bullshit and that he wasn’t doing anything until he spoke to you.”

I watch as she frantically flips the phone open, feeling a small smile make its way onto my face.  “Trace.” I  get out, my voice sounding weak as I say it.  My throat is still scratchy from when I puked before, and I know it’ll take a couple of hours before I can speak clearly again.  

She looks up at me like I’ve gone crazy.  “What?”

“That’s who you talked to.” I nod, knowingly.  “That’s my best friend.”

“Well he’s a dick,” she huffs in frustration.  “Do you even know what I had to do, so that Charlie wouldn’t come down here and shoot you, Justin? I mean, he was ready to.  He got so fucking pissed.”  She pauses, and rubs her face with her hands.  “He blamed me, you know?  Like it was my fault your friend is a stubborn piece of shit.”

I stare at her for a few minutes, the smirk on my face not going back into hiding.  I know Trace told her where to go, and he never would have put my mom on the phone with someone like her.  Although I would have liked to speak with her, I know it’s best for the both of us if I don’t.  Talking to her right now would be too emotional, and I need my strength right now...my sanity.  So, I’ll get to talk to Trace instead.  My smile grows a little bit wider.  I know I need him.  I need to hear him tell me that he’s handling this, and everything is going to be fine...that he’ll see me in a few days.  “How’d you stop him?” I ask her.

She looks back down at the phone and begins to dial.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sam...”

“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” she grunts.  “You have more important things to deal with right now.”

“Did he hurt you?” I ask after awhile.

She doesn’t answer me.  I don’t think she has the emotional capacity to at the moment.  She just stares at the phone for awhile more, before she finishes dialing what I recognize as my home phone number.  “I mean it when I say quick,” she grunts, holding the phone up to my ear.  “I don’t know who they have working against us, and if we’re traced...God, I don’t want to think about it.”

I nod at her as it rings.  It rings five times.  I start to lose hope.  Six... Seven...

“Yeah.”

Oh he’s really pissed off.  It’s a little odd hearing him this way too, because Trace is usually very mellow and doesn’t anger easily.  But right now somebody has put his best friend’s life in danger, and I know there aren’t too many other things in this world that can set him off as much as this is.  “Trace,” I say softly.  “Hey, it’s me.”

“Fuck, Justin.”  Suddenly, the firmness in his voice weakens, and I know he’s relieved that I’m alive more than anything.  “What happened?”

“I dunno.”  I eye Sam out of the corner of my eye, and she’s watching me with an impatient look on her face.  “I just...I’ve been kidnapped.  I don’t remember much.”r32;
Okay that’s a fucking lie.  I could tell him right now that her name is Sam, his is Charlie, and I’m being held prisoner in some abandoned lot.  But I doubt she’d let me get half of that out before I’d get kicked in the balls...or worse.

“Yeah, I fucking know,” he grunts.  “Justin, hell...I mean, I thought you were dead.  You just disappeared.”

“I know,” I whisper, trying to keep the fear and anxiety out of my voice.  “Is...is my mom okay?”

“She’s holding up okay,” he tells me.  “Listen, don’t worry.  We’re going to get you out of there and deal with the little cunt who’s doing this to you.”

He’s probably expecting me to lose it, cry or something, but I don’t want to.  I don’t want to sound weak because it’ll make him that much more stressed.  “I’ll stick this out,” I tell him softly.  “Please just get the money.”

“Can you tell me anything?”

There’s so much I could say that will help him find me, but I don’t know what Sam will do if I try  to tell him anything.  I meet her gaze again, and she mouths ‘hurry up’ to me with a roll of her eyes.  I just sigh.  This is yet, another chance for me to do something bold, to help myself get out of this situation.  I’d be crazy not to take it.   “A steak buffet,” I say quickly, recalling Charlie mentioning one near bye.  “It’s...mmmph...”  She’s taken the phone away, cradling it between her neck and her shoulder now as she presses her hand firmly over my mouth.  I look at her with pleading eyes as she pulls her gun out with her free hand and presses it into my cheek.  

It takes a moment or two before she takes her hand away from my mouth, giving me a menacing look that tells me I better not to try to say anything else.  She holds the phone closer to her ear now,  the angry expression in her eyes not going unnoticed by me.  “Get the money.  I’ll be in touch,” she mutters into the phone, and flips it closed.   “Have you fucking lost it!” She barks at me immediately, tossing the phone on the mattress.  

She doesn’t pull the gun away from my face and I start to breath in and out rapidly, knowing this is the first time she’s ever really made me fear for my life.  Yeah, that time outside when I ran was pretty scary, but I think I knew she wouldn’t shoot me then.  This time I’m not so sure.  I know if Trace takes that information and makes some kind of connection to my whereabouts, Charlie will freak the hell out on her.  That gives her enough of a reason to shoot me.  “I want to go home,” I manage to say, in a low voice.  “You can’t blame me.”

She knocks me across the face with the gun, and I do the best I can to remain firm and not cry out in pain, but it’s really hard.  I can feel the blood trickling out of my mouth, and I look down at the mattress, feeling the tears beginning to seep out of my eyes as the droplets of blood stain the material beneath me.

She just hit me.  It’s hard for me to accept, but it’s true, and I really need to watch myself...stop getting so lost in her.

“Jesus...fuck....”  She gets up and holds a hand over her mouth as she paces the room.  “Do you even know how much danger you just put yourself in, Justin?”

“So fucking kill me!”  I yell, trying not to sob all that much in front of her.  “I’m tired of this shit, Sam! I didn’t ask for this!”

“And I did?” She yells, sobbing now.  “Fuck...you know why we decided to kidnap you?  Charlie owes a loan shark close to a million dollars, and he’s fucking ruthless.  Now because of your mouth, you might have just fucked this entire thing up!  Don’t you get it? We’ll all be dead.  If the cops come, Charlie will kill you, and he’ll kill me too.”

“Fine,” I mutter.  “At least you’ll get what you deserve.”

“Oh great,” she snaps.  “I sneak out here in the middle of the night to cater to your ass and this is how you repay me?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” I say darkly.

“Yeah, of course you don’t.  Fuck Justin.  Fuck.”

I hear a ripping sound and a I look up.  She has duct tape now, and I’m completely confused.  “What are you doing?”

“We’re going somewhere else and I can’t have you drawing attention to yourself.”

“What?”r32;

She doesn’t explain.  She just comes over to me and presses a length of tape over my mouth and wraps it around the back of my head.  I whimper as I look into her eyes, completely fucking confused.  This isn’t the Sam I’ve come to know at all.  No, this one is ruthless, heartless and money hungry.  I don’t understand.  I thought...I thought I could sort of trust her after last night.

Apparently I’m a horrible judge of character.
 
Though, that would explain why I was with Shelly for so long.

She paces the room for a few more minutes, as I stare at her, completely helpless, and unable to speak...to talk her down.  It’s probably the greatest tool I have in all of this, my ability to talk to her, and make her understand that she needs to let me go.  She knows that, and it’s why she’s gagged me like this.  I hate everything.

I’m fucking hopeless again, despite the fact that I know I just gave Trace an inch as to where I am.  Not that it matters...we’re leaving apparently.

“Sam.”  Charlie’s voice booms through the door as he bangs on it, and it gets her to gasp and look over in the direction of the noise.  “Is he ready? Hurry the fuck up!”

“I’m coming!”

She whimpers slightly as she storms over to me again, and begins to lift the blindfold over my eyes.  I don’t bother struggling.  It’s not going to help the situation, and I simply stare at her for a moment or two.  Her eyes lock onto mine, and she doesn’t say anything, but I know...I just know how shitty she feels doing this to me right now.  Then I’m plunged into darkness, and I groan a little bit as my senses are thrown off.  I hear the rattling of the chains being unlocked from my cuffs, and a moment later I’m hauled to my feet, the cold steel of the gun being pressed into my ribs as I’m shoved forward, probably towards the door.

“Just don’t make a scene,” she hisses in my ear.  “Charlie isn’t in the mood.”

I hear the door being opened, and I nearly trip as I’m pushed harshly again.  The wind whips across my face.  We’re outside now, and I try not to make a sound because I know Charlie has to be standing near bye with his gun, and I have no idea if Sam is going to tell him what I just did.  

“You call that prick back?” I hear him grunt.

Sam tightens her grip on me as she presses the gun harder into my side.  “Yeah.”

“Well?”

“He gets it now.”

I hear a creaking of some kind.  Maybe metal...maybe a car door being opened, and I’m shoved forward, groaning slightly in frustration as I nearly trip over the chain connecting my ankles together.

“Are you sure?” Charlie asks quietly.

“Of course I’m sure,” Sam snaps.  “I’d tell you if there was a problem.  He knows who’s running shit now.”

“You’re so damn sexy when you’re feisty.”

She giggles and I’m disgusted.  I feel her hand me off to him, and he grips me strongly by the arms as he shoves me into what I’m assuming is the back of their vehicle.  My body collides with a floor that’s made out of something metallic, and I know I’m in a truck or a van.  I groan softly, hoping Sam will hear me and know how fucking traumatizing this all is for me.  But...I think I may have pissed her off too much to care.  I hear someone get inside with me, and I feel a gun press into my cheek again as something heavy bangs shut.  I start to whimper, all the hope I’d built up inside of me from hearing Trace’s voice gone because of this.  Even if I did give him valuable information before, it won’t matter.  If they find the trailer, they’ll only find some chains and my old puke left behind.  Fuck, they’ll probably think that I’m dead.

I’m not dead though, and I have to do whatever it takes to make that known.  I have to get Sam on my side again, make her trust me.  That’s going to be fucking hard too...but I can read her like a book, and I think that’s what gets her every time when it comes to her feelings about me.

The vehicle roars to life, and I feel it start to move.  We’re leaving, going far away from this place.  To where, I have no fucking idea, but it can’t be less pleasant than that fucking box was, that’s for sure.  No, not unless they’re going to kill me.  But they can’t yet.  No, they haven’t attempted to do a money hand off so they have to keep me alive...at least for now.

At least until they figure out a way to kill me and get their money anyway.

“Calm down.  You’re shaking really bad.”

It’s her.  I’d like to be thankful but right now I’m fucking terrified of her.  I just groan.  It’s the only thing I can do.

“Look, back there...I was afraid,” Sam tells me, rubbing a soothing hand on my shoulder.  “We’re going to a better place now, I promise.”

There is no better place.  I wish I could tell her that.  No matter what, I’m still going to be around them...I’m still going to be a fucking prisoner.  There won’t be a better place until I’m home with my family.  Sam is just fucking crazy thinking she can console me right now.

“If you promise not to make noise I’ll take the tape off,” she whispers to me.  “But it’ll go right back on if you decide to run your mouth again, okay?”

I nod.  It’s hard to breath like this anyway, and I know if I want to gain Sam’s trust again, I need to be able to talk to her.  A few moments later, she yanks the tape down around my neck, and I feel some kind of blade cutting it free.  I cough a little bit, trying to take deep gulps of air to calm myself down.

“Here.”

I feel her press a bottle to my lips, but I know this scenario all too well.  “No,” I moan.  “No drugs.”

“It’s water, I promise,” she whispers, the concern in her voice for me apparent.  “Come on, you need it.”

I don’t know if I can trust her after the situation with Trace.  I’m afraid Charlie has told her to drug me, just like before, only she doesn’t want me to freak out so she’s lying to me.  “Sam...”

“Shh,” she hisses.  “Don’t call me that right now.  He’ll hear you.”

I nod.  Then she presses the bottle to my lips again, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m weak or whatever, but I decide to drink it anyway.  I gulp the water down eagerly, waiting for the woozy feeling to come once I finish, but it never does.  She didn’t lie to me.  She didn’t lie to me even though I really pissed her off before.  “Thank you,” I croak out.  “And...I’m sorry, you know?”

“Please don’t be,” she whispers.  “You had to do it, I know that.  I just...I had all this adrenaline because of...what happened before I came to see you this morning,” she confesses, and I feel her hand caressing the side of my face she hit with the gun before, gently.  “I didn’t mean to lose it and hit you.”

“We’re even I guess,” I say, my tone emotionless.

“Yeah,” she says sadly.  “I guess so.”

It’s quiet after that, for a really long time.  I don’t know where Sam went.  I’m assuming she’s sitting here with me still, just away where she can’t touch me anymore.  I know it’s because Charlie is here.  If he caught her consoling me I don’t know what he’d do to her...or to me, and it’s better if we simply leave each other alone until he’s gone again.  I lay here on the metal floor, motionless, my body being tossed around slightly when the car turns or hits a pothole.  After awhile I start to feel a little bit sick, and I’m thankful that the tape is gone from my mouth in case I start to vomit again.  I really wish I knew where I’m being taken.  Supposedly it’s better, according to Sam.  But better could just mean I’ll be locked in a closet instead of being kept in some isolated trailer.  I don’t see how that’s better.  I mean, no matter where they take me, the situation isn’t going to change.  It’s just going to get harder from here on out.

Sam even told me that.

I don’t know how much longer it takes.  It feels like days, but I know I’m only being thrown off because of the blindfold.  Eventually the car slows to a stop, and there is nothing but silence all around for a few terrible minutes.  Then I hear a car door slam...footsteps that probably belong to Charlie circle around me.  I hear that squeaking sound again.  He’s opened the doors to where I’ve been hidden, and I know that means we’ve arrived at our destination.  I hear birds cawing...crows.  I hate fucking crows.  When I was young we had a garden in the backyard that the crows would always try and pick at.  My granny built this kick ass scarecrow though, that made them stop coming.  Trace and I named him Zeek because we were from the south and he looked like a hillbilly more so than a scarecrow.

I wish I was there right now, with Zeek and Trace, and Granny.  I try to think of them, of the past, of my childhood.  I try to think of anything to get me far away from this hell Sam and Charlie have put me into.

“What the hell Sam?  Put the damn tape back on his mouth.”

It’s Charlie, and I sigh.  I don’t want my mouth to be taped again.  “Look, I won’t make noise,” I say desperately.  

“It doesn’t matter what you won’t do,” Charlie says darkly.  “I want it there, so you’re gonna have it there.”

“Baby I really don’t see why...” Sam begins.

“Oh don’t you fuckin’ start,” he interrupts her with a growl.  “You know better.  Remember this morning?”
 
I hate him.  I want to scream at him, ask him what he did to her today to make her so frightened, but I know I won’t get an answer, and I don’t feel like getting hit again.  I don’t want Sam to get hurt anymore, either.  “Just do it,” I tell her, with a tired voice.  

The ripping of the tape comes seconds later, and then I’m gagged again, groaning as I feel somebody pulling me forward by my ankles.  It’s a long path to the edge of the opening, and I think this is a van now.  Yeah, I’m positive it is.  I wish I could see the plate, the color...I’d tell Trace the first chance I got even though it’s dangerous.  I just don’t care anymore, though.  

If I’m going to die, I’m not doing it without a fight.

I’m forced out and to my feet by who I’m pretty sure is Charlie.  He grips me harshly by my upper arm, and whispers in my ear not to “get cute” while we’re outside.

“Are you sure he said this is okay?” Sam’s voice comes a moment later as I’m shoved along what feels like a gravel road.

“Babe, I told you.  He wants to help.  You have a seriously warped conception of him.  He’s willing to split the money with us, and he’s going to forgive the debt.”

So, I guess we’re about to be accompanied by this loan shark that Sam was telling me about.  I don’t know whether or not I need to be afraid yet, but I’m assuming the answer is yes.  Sam seems terrified of him, and I’m sure he hasn’t hesitated to kill people in the past over money.  That means my life is probably in more danger now than it was back at the trailer, and I just don’t know what to do.  This guy has to be a professional, so that means he’ll know exactly what to do to keep my family from finding out where I am.  

I’ve just lost the rest of my hope.

I trip over something wooden suddenly, falling directly onto my face, feeling a warm gush of blood running out of my nose moments later.  Great.  Just fucking great.

“Well walk up the stairs dumb ass,” Charlie chuckles.

I moan, the pain mind numbing, then I’m kicked by him, and he tells me to get up and walk.  I do it.  I don’t know how, but I guess knowing that Sam is near bye watching all of this makes me want to be a little bit stronger.  There seems to be a million steps before I’m stopped short by him, and a knocking sound comes in front of my face.  There’s a door, and I start to pray that they have the wrong house.  That some innocent by stander opens it and brings me salvation.

I’m so fuckin’ dumb.

“He’s waiting downstairs.”  

It’s a mans voice.  He sounds dark, and intimidating and I don’t make a sound as I’m pushed forward.  There’s carpet...hard surface...carpet...a barking dog.  Laughter. Women’s voices.  The sound of a TV with a sports show on.  It’s obvious that there is some sort of party going on in this place, and now I’ve arrived, the cuffed, gagged, and blindfolded guest.

Nobody cares, and I guess this must be a ritual for them.  Funny, I’m usually the life of the party.  Today I’m just in the way.

I’m forced to walk down another set of stairs.  Strangely, Charlie lets me take my time now.  It’s probably because we’re inside where nobody can help me.  I try to listen out for Sam.  Knowing she’s close would give me some comfort, but I only hear Charlie’s footsteps along with my own pathetic half shuffle.  Is she gone?  Is she upstairs watching the game with the other people like nothing is happening?  Fuck.  I don’t know, but if that’s the case, she’s just pissed me off again.

“No shit,” I hear a male voice say after awhile.  “You really weren’t lyin.”

I’m shoved down onto what feels like a sofa.  It’s a plastic sort of material, maybe leather.  A leather sofa.  I lean my head down and press my nose against it to smell.  Yes.  Leather for sure.  I have a leather sofa.

I miss it right now.

I hear the sound of hands slapping.  Charlie and this one are buddies, and they’re both working against me.

I’m fucking doomed.

“So it’s really okay if he stays here?” I hear Charlie say.  “The other place...I don't know, I just don’t trust it anymore.”

“Hey, you know me.  Would I pass up a couple of mil?” The other man laughs.

I feel like I’ve been inducted into the slave trade.  Nobody seems to care that I’m here.  They just want the money.  Hell, I know they don’t care if I live or die right now, and it makes me want to vomit...but I can’t.  I’ll fuckin choke, and die, and that would be completely unfair to me.

“There’s a room over there behind the wall.  Toss him in there for now,” The man orders.

“Great.”

Charlie is happy.  Awesome for him.  I’m yanked up after a moment, made to walk forward, softly whimpering along the way.  This isn’t better.  Sam said it would be better.  Now I’m just going into another box, another prison.  Nobody will stumble upon me or find me accidentally.  

“Hey hang on.”

It’s the other man, and I’m stopped short as I hear something sliding open...maybe a door.  I freeze as I hear another set of footsteps making their way towards me, and I feel a hand slapping my cheek lightly a moment later.  It’s strangely warm, but not comforting like Sam’s touch.  It’s actually terrifying me, as if somebody was holding a bold flame close to my skin, threatening to burn it off unless I cooperated.

“Justin fuckin’ Timberlake, huh?” The man laughs.  “How fuckin’ crazy.  I mean, you’re kind of beat up, but it’s you just the same I guess.  Would you like something to eat?”

Is he really asking me that? Or is he talking to Charlie?  I just shrug.

The tape is ripped off my face.

“Go ahead,” the man says.  “You can answer now.”

“I...”  I begin, scared because I know Charlie is standing next to me.  I don’t know what I should do.  Should I just say yes and be done with it? Or should I try to convince this guy to let me go? That there’s more money in store for him if he does?  “Please let me go,” I say to him, figuring it’s worth a shot.  “I can get you more money--I can get you a lot of money.”

“Hey shut up,” Charlie says, shaking me a little.  “He asked you if you were hungry, not for a fucking sympathy plea.”

“It’s okay, man,” the man says with a light laugh.  “He’s entitled.  It’s his life at stake.  You know Justin, I commend you for coming all the way to me and not getting yourself killed.  If I was an honest guy, which I’m not, I might just drop you off in the middle of nowhere after this whole thing runs its course.  But who knows?  I mean, if I’m in a good mood I could have a change of heart or something.”

He pats my shoulder and I cringe.  “When can I go home?”  I mutter, despite the fact that his comment just now was less than comforting.

“That depends on your people,” he tells me with a sigh.  “I’ll get you a steak or something though, to pass the time.  How about that? I know my buddy here isn’t really accommodating, but that’s probably my fault you know? I trained him to be this way.”

I don’t want a fucking steak.  Has this guy lost his mind?  I mean, look at me.  I’m a mess, and terrified, and he’s acting like I’ve just checked into the Four Seasons.  

“If you don’t like steak I can get you something else.  How about a burger?” The man offers.

I just nod, only half hearing him.  I don’t care, because I’m not going to eat it anyway. I’m too depressed.  Too confused.  Too scared out of my fucking mind.  

“He’s offering you some hospitality,” Charlie hisses in my ear.  “What are you supposed to say?”

I fucking hate him.  “Yes. Thank you,” I mutter.

“Good kid.”  The man says, patting my shoulder again.  “Just relax in there, and don’t try anything stupid.  The walls are all soundproofed, and there’s a camera in the ceiling.  We can see you from any room in the house, so...we’ll know what you’re up to in seconds, and you don’t want to make me angry, Justin, do you?”

I don’t respond at first, but then I’m whacked on the back of the head by Charlie and I decide it’s best to answer this guy again.  “No, I don’t,” I whisper.

“Great.  I’ll send dinner down in a little while.”

I hear him walk away, whistling some random tune, and the only thing I can think is that he’s a fucking psychopath.  He’s so calm about this, it’s fucking scary.  I feel like I’m in some weird mafia movie, and that guy is the leader while Charlie is his lackey.  I know he means business despite his calm demeanor, that I have more to fear from him than I’ve ever had to fear from Charlie.  

“Move.”

I’m shoved through what I’m pretty sure is another doorway, and Charlie gives me another hard push a moment later.  I hit the wall and sigh heavily.  Fuck.  I wish people would stop hitting me and pushing me around.  It’s getting old and it’s making me weaker each and every time.  I need my strength, I know I do.  If by some grace of God I’m released from these cuffs again, I need to be able to run...to survive for a long period of time in my condition.  I know I must be dehydrated and malnourished and being pushed, punched, and kicked is only making me weaker.  

Something slides closed and it’s quiet for awhile.  I think Charlie is gone, and I start to freak out just a little bit.  I cry for a minute or two, until I feel the familiar coldness of the gun pressing into my head again.  Damn it.  He never left and I just proved to him how weak I really am.  “What do you want?” I whimper.  “Just leave me alone.”

“I need to ask you a question,” he grunts, shoving me harshly against the wall as he holds his gun firmly to my head.  

I don’t say anything, just wait for him to ask what he wants because I don’t want him to hurt me.  

“You got a thing for Sam?”

My heart starts to race, and I wonder if he can feel it.  It’s pounding, like it might burst out of my chest at any moment.  “I--I don’t know what you mean,” I say, my voice trembling.  He won’t believe me.  Fuck, he’s caught on.  He knows that I feel a certain way about her.  That I almost trust her...basically rely on her to be my sanity during this whole thing.  “You both kidnapped me.  I don’t have a thing for her.”

“I think you’re lying,” he whispers.  “And if I see you touch her, or look at her the wrong way, I’ll know.  All I have to do is rewind the tape.  My buddy showed me how to do it, and Justin...” He trails off and I can feel his breath hot in my face now.  I know he’s too close.  “I will fuckin’ kill you.”

I swallow hard.  “I’m not touching that skank.”

He slams my head into the wall, and I cry out in pain once again.

 “What’d you call her?”

“Nothing.” I whimper, my head pounding harder than it has since the first night.  “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”  

He shoves me down, so my face is pressing into a fresh smelling carpet.  Hell, at least it’s clean here.  I hear a chain rattling.  I know he’s brought more shit with him.  “What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Taking precautions.”

I feel something being connected from my handcuffs to the cuffs around my ankles a moment later.  When I move a little I can hear it rattling.  Yeah, it’s another fucking animal chain.  This mother fucker.  “Why are you doing this?” I mutter as I roll onto my side.

“Consider this a light punishment,” he tells me with an evil little laugh.  “Don’t want you to be too comfortable, you know?”

“Asshole!” I roll around, trying desperately to feel my way towards him, but all I do is bang into a wall, and I hear him laugh and start to walk away.  “Fuck...come back!  Don’t leave me here!”

Something slides closed, and I know he’s completely tuned me out.  I’m stuck in here.  I’m being watched, and there’s nothing I can do but wait.  Where the fuck is Sam?  I need her.  I need her to tell me that everything is going to be okay.  But...knowing Charlie, he’s going to do everything he can to keep her as far away from me as possible.

I feel lost knowing that.    

I feel lost, period.
*********************
“Hey...”

I roll over, groaning because my blanket is so warm and I don’t want to give it up for anything.  “Fifteen more minutes.  I swear, I’ll give you whatever you want then.”

“Baby...”  

She’s laughing at me, and I feel part of the mattress sink down, telling me she’s decided to sit beside me.  I squint my eyes open, and find myself staring into Shelly’s vibrant green eyes.  “You just wanna see me all groggy.  It turns you on.”
She pecks me on the nose.  “Rachael said that if I don’t get you up, she’ll tell Johnny it was my fault you were late this time.  I can’t have that riding over my head.”

“How about you just ride me instead, Shel?”

“Justin!”

I pull her down on top of me, silencing her protesting with a deep, passionate kiss.  She groans with pleasure, just like I knew she would, and soon we’ve both completely forgotten about my agenda.  Sure, I’ll be late...but it’s worth it.  I can never pass up a great round of morning sex.  Especially when it’s with her.

“Justin!”

There’s a slapping on my face, jolting me out of the dream.  I gasp and my eyes pop open to darkness, and I try to move my hands so I can clear my vision, but I can’t.  I can’t move at all.  Fuck.  I thought that this was the nightmare...that fucking Shelly was the reality.

But Shelly has been gone for a really long time.

“I’m up,” I groan.  “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

Sam.  The fear rising in my chest dies down, and I let out a long breath.  “How long has it been?”

“It's almost dawn.  I came to bring you some food earlier, but you were passed out.  Did Charlie drug you?”

I shake my head, hardly being able to believe that i wasted an entire day i could have spent thinking of a way out of this, fast asleep. It pisses me off, but I guess my body was really worn down from everything that's happened.  I know I needed the nap.  “No. I just...I guess I was just really tired.”

It’s quiet for awhile.  I think I can hear her sniffling a little bit but I can’t be sure, and I know she’ll deny it if I ask her.  

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is soft, and a lot weaker than it’s been since I’ve come to know her.  She’s stressed out, that’s a given.  But why is she worried about me?  We’re in a dangerous fucking place and the only person she should be worrying about right now is herself, because it’s pretty obvious to me that if the ransom goes south, she’s going to die too.  “I’m tired,” I tell her, knowing its the truth.  I really am.  I feel weaker now than I have the entire time I’ve been their fucking prisoner.  I need to be able to get up and stretch my muscles, eat a good meal, and get a shower before I’ll be able to feel like myself again.  The thought that I pissed in my pants the other day isn’t too comforting either.  I keep smelling it, probably because I haven’t pissed my pants since I was about four or five years old.  It’s just disgusting, probably part of the reason I got sick before.  I want a change of clothes.

I want to feel human again.

The blindfold is pulled away from my eyes and I squeeze them shut, the light in the room nearly blinding me.  I feel my heart start to race.  Fuck, she shouldn’t be doing this.  They’re watching.  Charlie will see...he’ll get angry.  “Put it back,” I say desperately.  “They’ll see.”  I force my eyes to open, and look up at the ceiling.  There’s a black ball there...the camera that I’ve been warned about surely recording me from within.

“It’s fake,” she tells me, gently.  “I checked.”

I stare at her in disbelief.  “No...” I shake my head.  “That guy said...”

“Adrian wants you to be afraid,” she tells me, rubbing my face gently with the palm of her hand.  “Charlie does too.”  She pulls me up and helps me to lean against the wall.  “Here, I’ll take this off,” she tells me, trying to smile a little bit as she pulls that tiny silver key out of her pocket, and unlocks the chain connecting my wrists to my ankles.

“Sam...” I whimper, slowly stretching my legs out in front of me.  It hurts like hell.  My thighs and calves feel like they haven’t moved around in twenty years, even though it’s only been a few hours.  “Sam you gotta get me outta here.”

“Shh.”  She hisses, calmly.  “Calm down.”

“How can I calm down?”

She shakes her head a little bit, as she pulls a styrofoam carton out of a brown paper bag and onto her lap.  “I can’t do anything!  I mean I’m trying to do whatever I can to help you feel better, but I can’t let you go.  Adrian would shoot you before you could get all the way upstairs.”

The aroma of a good quality hamburger and fries fills my nostrils when she opens the carton, and my stomach is growling, telling me that I better eat if I know what’s good for me.  But I don’t want to get sick again, so I won’t.  I won’t be forced to eat.  “Who’s Adrian?,” I mutter.

“The loan shark I told you about.”

“Oh.”

She stares at me for awhile more, before taking the burger out of the box and bringing it close to my face.  “I really am... sorry that I hit you.”

I look away from her, hang my head low and stare at the floor.  “It’s fine.  I don’t want to eat though.”

“Justin, you need to eat.”

“No.”

She sighs in frustration.  “All right,” she says quietly.  “I’m not going to argue with you.”

It’s quiet again.  I hate when it gets quiet.  It makes me remember how lost I feel, how afraid.  It suddenly occurs to me that she never told me what happened to her this morning, and it’s something that I want to find out.  If Charlie hurt her again, I swear to god...I really will find a way to kill him.  “Are you going to tell me what happened this morning, before the phone call?”

“Nope.”

I finally find the strength to lift my head and meet her gaze again.  “Why not?”

She sucks in a breath and rolls her eyes.  “Because it’s isn’t something that concerns you.”

“It concerns my life doesn’t it?” I snap at her, my intense gaze not faltering even though she looks extremely distraught right now.  

“Yes but...”

“Sam.” I narrow my eyes at her.  “What happened this morning?”

She runs a hand through her hair, and wipes a few stray tears off of her cheeks.  “Who’s Shelly?”

I look at her strangely.  I have no idea how the fuck she could know about Shelly.  I mean, our relationship wasn’t a public thing.  She’s not in the business, she’s a friend of Jason’s, and we met through him.  It’s the reason I liked being with her so much.  She was really naive to my career, and the things I had to deal with.  She wasn’t about being in the spotlight or answering questions about me.  She hated being asked to be in magazines, and detested the paparazzi.  We had a good thing going, her and me.  A private, fun, thing.  I’d come home from an event and we’d watch Family Feud like I’d just gotten home from a long day at the office.  We didn’t talk about my career much, not unless I had a big thing going on.  I don’t know how the fuck we fell apart like we did.  

I know why I can’t connect with a girl anymore.

It’s because I still love Shelly, and I hate that Trace is always right about everything.

“How do you know about Shelly?”

“Well you’ve been muttering her name in your sleep since I’ve been down here,” she explains.  “I figured she was your girlfriend or something.”

I hadn’t even realized, and now I just feel like a fool.  This has probably been going on for awhile then, when I’ve been home, asleep in my own house, in my own bed.  I fucking miss her.  I can hide it really well from myself when I’m awake and active, but I guess I just can’t do it when I’m asleep.  That’s when my true feelings come out.  I really...I mean, I don’t hate her, I’m just angry.  If I saw her again, I’d probably be happy.  I’d wrap my arms around her, and let her tuck her face between my neck and shoulder.  Just holding her would fill me up with more joy than I’ve felt since the day she walked out on me, when I screamed at her that she was worthless and that I didn’t care if she left.

I was fucking dumb.

I still am.

“She was,” I confess, quietly.  “Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

I look at her quickly.  She’s glancing down, picking at her nails, and I know this is her way of avoiding the subject I’ve asked her about.  I’ll let it go for the moment, but I’m not going to forget about it.  “We just sort of drifted apart, I guess,” I say softly.  “I was busy with work, and couldn’t make enough time for her.  She gave up on me.  I used to hate her for it, but...now I guess I can see her side of things a little clearer.  A part of me still loves her but, it’s basically just a lost cause now.”

Sam nods, as if she understands.  “How long were you guys together?”

I laugh sadly.  This is the part that makes me regret our break up the most.  Four fucking years I spent with her.  My family had come to love her, my friends did too...except for Rachael.  The two of them never quite saw eye to eye, but they both have really strong, outgoing personalities, and I knew from the moment I met Shelly that she wouldn’t get along with my cousin at all.  “Four years.”

“Damn,” she sighs.  “That’s awhile.”

I nod, but I want to stop thinking about her.  It’s making me upset, and edgy and the last thing I want to do is lose my temper in front of Sam, because I know she’s just trying to help.  “Yeah.  How long have you and Charlie been together?”

She looks at me as if she’s not sure that she should tell me.  “Two and a half years,” she finally says, with a light laugh.  “Too long.”

I shrug.  “He made you happy once though, right?”

She crosses her arms.  “He’s always made me happy,” she defends.  “He just...was calmer in the beginning.”

I just sigh and shake my head.  It’s so fucking typical that she defends him.  He’s put the fear of God in her and she’s too terrified to make him out to be anything other but the best boyfriend in the world.  “So, he just hit you a couple of times of week back then, now it’s gotten to be an everyday thing.  That’s just great, Sam.  What’s it going to take for you to leave him?  A bullet in your head?”

“It’s my fault,” she scoffs.  “I’m an idiot.  It’s not Charlie’s problem.”  She puts a hand to her forehead and closes her eyes.  “This isn’t even about me...God, don’t change the subject, Justin.”

“Can’t help it,” I whisper, gently.  “I hate to see you like this.”

She stares at me like I’ve gone crazy.  “I’ve kidnapped you... held a gun to your head.  I deserve everything that happens to me.”

I shake my head roughly, trying to sit up more so I can be closer to her, but I pathetically fall over onto my face instead.  

“Justin.”  She gasps, gripping my arm and helping me to sit back up again.  Our eyes meet, and we stare at each other for what seems like an eternity.

“What happened this morning,” I say, before she can tear her gaze away.

She props me up against the wall again, her face turning red and her lips trembling as she pulls away from me.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t want to talk about Shelly,” I say to her, sadly.  “But I did.”

“Jesus christ.”  She mutters the words into her hands as she covers her face with them.  “He’s was just really pissed, you know?  That guy on the phone...”

“Trace,” I correct her.r32;

“Whatever.” She says, shaking his name off with a wave of her hand.  “Charlie wasn’t counting on getting that type of a reaction. He...he wanted to kill you and find another way to get the money.  But I just...I couldn’t let him do that.”  She pauses and stares into my eyes again.  “You don’t deserve to die, Justin.”

She’s real.  Real as in, she has a heart, and is capable of being compassionate, being human.  I wish I knew the girl she used to be.  The one that’s funny, the one that smiles and likes to have a good time.  I could be friends with her...really good friends.

And eventually...more.  

“So what did you do? I question, the nervousness more than apparent in my voice.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then her eyes widen and she quickly closes it again.  “I can’t.”

“You should though,” I persist.  “It’s not fair to me.”

“Why is it fair or unfair? You’re alive aren’t you?”r32;

I chuckle sadly.  She’s a smart girl, I can tell, but right now she’s not understanding what I’m trying to get across.  “I’m alive because you did something to make Charlie change his mind.  I’d be dead otherwise and...and I just want to make sure that you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t know why you care so much.”

“Yeah, well, I have my reasons--and I don’t know why you care so much about me either,” I whisper, still staring into her eyes.  “But here we are, and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere, so why don’t you just explain it to me Sam?”

“I don’t...care...I just...”

“Bullshit,” I snap.  “I saw you.  I saw the real you at that club, Sam.  You were happy then.  That’s the girl you want to be.”

“No.” She shakes her head roughly again, and sobs a little.  “Just stop it, okay?”

“Tell me what he did!” I yell.

“He’s making me sleep with Adrian!”

Silence.

At first I try to make myself believe that she didn’t really say that.  That I’m only hearing things or she’s simply playing a sick game with me right now.  I look at the floor for awhile and debate it all in my head, but I find that I have to look up at her again moments later.  She’s crying really hard, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her truly upset since I was taken.  “What do you mean?” I whisper.   “I mean...I get it but...why?”

“Adrian has always wanted a taste,” she says, in between sobs.  “Charlie said he’d never make me do it.  But...but I didn’t get the ransom call to go over smoothly enough, so Charlie said we needed to make it up to Adrian so he wouldn’t lose his patience.”  She runs a hand through her hair, and wipes the tears off her cheeks.  

“Don’t do it,” I tell her harshly.  “Not for me.”

“I'm doing it,” she nods.  “Your life is more important, and I’ll get over it.”  

She gets up suddenly, and starts to head towards the door.  I know she’s running away, off to do some drugs to get her mind off of everything.  I feel fucking horrible right now, like it’s my fault she’s about to give into that sick fuckhead upstairs.  I need to do something...get her out of it somehow.  But what can I do?  I’m just the victim.  The one who’s supposed to be silent and take everything with a grain of salt while I pray for my life.  But fuck...I just...

I just care about this girl too much, and I still can’t understand why.

“Don’t run away,” I tell her quietly.  “Just stay here.  Stay here until they make you leave.”

She looks back over her shoulder as she places her hand on the little latch that slides the door open.  “That will only make things harder for you.”r32;

I shrug my shoulders.  I’m getting to her real good.  A few more hours of this and I might just convince her to sneak out of here with me, away from all this.  I’d make sure she got on her feet too, I swear I would.  Yeah, it would be weird for my family and friends, but really...it’s nobodies business but my own when it comes to this situation and Sam.  She needs somebody she can rely on, and I can be that person.  All she has to do is trust me...let me in.  “Listen to me,” I tell her seriously.  “We can get out of here, you and me.  I’ll get you out of here...get you some help, you know?”r32;

She only laughs at me.  “You’ve been a prisoner too long, Justin.  You’re starting to crack.”r32;

“I’m not fucking joking,” I mutter.

She sighs and steps away from the door.  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she tells me with a reassuring smile as she sits down in front of me again.  “I’m a big girl, and I’ve done enough senseless shit over the past couple of years to know what I can and can’t handle.  The Adrian thing will be fine, okay? I’d rather put up with that than watch Charlie bury you in a ditch.  You’re a good person, Justin.  You deserve to go home and move on with your life.”

I shake my head.  “Be honest, Sam.  Even if you go through with it, you still don’t know if I’ll be alive in the end.”

“Why do you have to be so damn negative?” she grunts.  “You have to believe you’re going home.”

“Charlie’s fucking nuts,” I point out.  “You know as well as I do, that he’d love to see me get shot in the head.  I mean, when he took me down here he was going on and on about how I have a thing for you, and that if I don’t stay away from you he’d kill me.”r32;

Her hopeful gaze turns into a miserable one in seconds.  “He said that?”

I nod.

“Fuck.”r32;

“I don’t care what he says,” I laugh.  “It’s not like...you know...I want you or anything.”

She just shrugs.  “Yeah.  I know.”

We stare at each other for a really long time after that.

She has a freckle, just above her lip.  It’s the cutest fuckin’ thing.  I know that if we were dating in the real world, I’d constantly pick it out, run my fingers over it and shit.  Come to think of it, I’d like to run my fingers all over her body...

Oh fuck.

I’ve gone off the deep end this time.  r32;

“You really need to stop staring at me,” she huffs, in a jittery voice.  She’s pulled out that little baggie again, the one with her coke supply inside.  “It’s making me feel really weird, Justin.”  

She puts out her free hand and pours a small bit of it on top of it, snorting it up her nose quickly, letting out a relieved sigh after the drug takes its effect.  It’s obvious that it’s calmed her, but I know how bad it is for her body.  “Why do you do that?”

She looks up at me and wipes her nose a little.  "Because it makes me feel like myself."

"You shouldn't."  I say tiredly.  "You're better than that."

"I wanted to go to rehab, but Charlie didn't want me to," she explains.

"Charlie doesn't know what's best for you, Sam.  You can do whatever you want to do, and if you want to change your life, get better...you should just do it.  Fuck this.  Fuck what you're doing to me.  It's not your fault and...you know, if you help me get out of here, I'll help you fix your life."

She laughs.  "You're slick."

"I'm serious."

"Justin, look...you want out of here.  It's understandable, but I know the second you get out, you're going to forget all about me."

"I could never forget about you, Sam."

She stares at me in amazement and shock, and I silently wonder if Charlie has ever made her feel as good as I have in the few days I've spent with her.  She deserves so much more than this.  She's better than all of it.  She's smart, funny, and beautiful.  She deserves to live a decent, healthy life and I wish like hell that this wasn't all so complicated...that we'd met in a different situation and I could love her like she deserves to be loved.  But I can't.  This whole thing is fucked up, and I know once I get out of here, my life is going to get back to normal...and Sam...

Sam is going to be in the middle of a huge mess that she won't be able to talk her way out of.

 Before I know what's happening she's pulled the tiny silver key out of her pocket, and takes the cuffs off my wrists and ankles.  The skin that lies beneath is raw, and I wince as the air hits the exposed flesh.  It stings, and I close my eyes.

 "I'm sorry," she whispers after a few moments.  "Justin..."

"I'll be okay."  I open my eyes, ever hopeful that she's going to help me up next...get me out of this hell hole.  But my hope instantly fades away when I see the gun in her hand.  She wants me to be comfortable, yeah, but she's not taking any chances.  Not when she knows Charlie would kill her if I happened to escape.  Part of me wonders if I could overpower her again, like that first day.  I feel weak of course.  I haven't really been able to walk around much at all in a few  days, but....she's a woman.  I could take her out, get out of here.  My mind is screaming at me to take my chance, but I just can't do it.  I keep staring at her, amazed that she trusts me this much, and amazed that...I really don't want to leave her here alone.  "Why don't you put the gun down, Sam," I tell her, quietly.

She sucks in a breath.  "I can't."

I nod a little.  "All right."

"This completely sucks," she chuckles after awhile.  "If my life was different, if I never met Charlie, and met you instead...I think I would have dated you."

I shrug a little.  "You ever think that maybe, this is like fate or something?"

She cocks her head to the side.  "What you do mean?"

"I mean, don't you think this happened for a reason?"

"It happened because my boyfriend is a fucking idiot."

I rise up from the floor cautiously, sucking in a long breath as I proceed to stretch my muscles out for the first time in days.  I watch with cautious eyes as she keeps the gun pointed at me, and I know...I have to try and talk her down, get her to help me.  I'm so close.  The door is right there.  "Life doesn't have to be like this," I tell her.  "We could leave right now, and I'd take care of you."

"You're a great liar."

"I'm being serious."

We stare at each other for awhile, both scared to death but neither one ready to admit it.  She gets up from the floor and steps closer to me, holding the gun in one hand, and allowing the free one to touch my face gently.  "Just like that?"

I nod.  "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because..." I trail off and pull her body close to mine, searching her expression for some kind of sign that she's not fucking crazy.  Because if she's not, it means that her feelings for me are genuine, and mine are too.  "You're a great girl.  Probably the best one I've met in a long time.  It's fucking nuts.  I mean, look at us.  But...I'm sort of happy, you know?  I'm happy that I've gotten to spend time with you."

She smiles a little.  It's another rare moment, because this situation doesn't call for smiles or laughter.  It gets me to smile back at her tiredly. 

"Justin, if I kissed you, would it be too weird?"

I stare at her.  I don't know what to fucking think right now, but I do know that...I'd like to kiss her too.  It's crazy.  I should be committed.  The person that was chained to the wall on the first day would have kicked her in the stomach, grabbed her gun and ran out of here the minute she unchained me.  But it's been days...much too long, and I guess my mind has grown accustomed to her.  I rely on her now, for mental support, and without her I'm nothing.  I reach out for her face and close my eyes.  Then my lips are on hers, and we kiss a slow deep kiss before pausing to look at each other again.

"What's happening," she whimpers, seemingly scared out of her mind.

"I dunno," I say, trembling a little.  "I liked it though."

"I shouldn't be doing this." She shakes her head roughly.  "This is crazy.  If Charlie finds out..."

"Hey."  I take her hand in mine and give her a serious look.  "It's not crazy, and he's not going to find out."

"He will." She says sternly, and lifts the gun level with my head again.  "Just...sit back down, Justin."

I shake my head.  "No."

Her eyes become glossy as she cocks the gun.  "I said do it!"

I know she's losing her mind right now, because she's confused.  Hell, I am too.  I don't know what's happening, really.  I just kissed this girl, while I'm stuck in this place, kidnapped for who knows how much longer.  Where is my head?  This isn't a joke, or a fuck fest.  She could shoot me right now and think nothing of it.  I can't just...trust her.  "All right," I say softly, taking my usual place against the wall.  "I'm sitting, see?  It's okay, Sam."

"It's not fucking okay."  She kneels down on the floor, and starts to cuff me again.  "That was stupid, what we did."

"Whatever you say," I grunt miserably as the cuffs bite into my skin once again.  "Just leave if you're going to leave.  Get the god damn money, Sam.  Stop fucking around, because I'm sick and tired of this.  I have a family and friends waiting for me outside of this place, and they want to see me again."

"It's not my problem," she grumbles.  "Stop making me feel guilty about this."

"You're the one who fucking kidnapped me!" I bark at her.

"Charlie kidnapped you!," She cries, the tears sliding rapidly out of her eyes and down her face.  "I just...I..."

"You just played along."  I shake my head and let out a disgusted laugh.  "That just completely recuses you, right?  Fucking junkie, you can't even see a good opportunity when it comes your way.  You're too focused on your drugs, and making sure Charlie gets them for you."

"Don't talk to me like that," she whispers.

I look at the wall.  I can't do this with her anymore.  My feelings are getting too intense, and it's not healthy.  I have to focus on keeping myself alive, not making out with my pretty little captor.  "Get out," I mutter."

"What?"

"Get the fuck out."

She looks at me in disbelief, like I have a nerve for wanting her to leave me here alone right now.  But hell, I'm fucking confused.  We just kissed, and I know...I fucking just know that she wants out of this situation just as much as I do.  Her fear is stopping her.  Charlie has taken such control over her, that she feels helpless, like she can't take a stand and do what's right.  I don't know what to do.  I think I've taken every step to convince her getting out of here is a good idea, but she still won't listen.  It's probably because of the drugs, and the fact that despite everything else...Charlie has and always will provide for her.

At least until he ends up killing her.

"I'm sorry."

I don't answer, and I'm sure she knows exactly how I feel.  The blindfold is pulled up over my eyes again, as I expected it would be, and I just...feel so lost.  I have to move on from here though.  I can't let Sam try to convince me to wait this whole thing out til the end anymore.  I have a gut feeling that if I do...I won't stand a chance, that Charlie already has my ending planned out in his head, and I have to beat him.  I have to survive, escape.

From here on out, that's my top priority.

The door slides open and closed again.

Game on.

I close the door and creep out into the hallway, trying my best just to put it out of my head, despite the fact that I can’t control my tears at the moment.  It wasn’t so bad.  It was quick, because he’s terrible in bed, but I made sure he had no idea I thought that way.  I smiled, kissed him, told him he was an excellent lover.  He was satisfied with that, satisfied with me.  Now he’s asleep, and I don’t have to put up with Adrian anymore.  I did what I had to do, and I know he doesn’t expect me to have sex with him again.  He knows I’m with Charlie, and he has enough hoes staying at his place to keep him busy for years.  I was just a sample, like something you’d rent for a weekend but never truly invest in.  I’m fine with that.

I’m fine with it because Justin is still alive due to what I did, and I don’t have to guilt myself with his death.  

Well, not yet.

The house is silent for the first time all day.  The TV is off, all of Adrian’s hoes and dealers are asleep, so I sit down on the plush sofa, and hold myself as I quietly cry.  I’m so fucking confused.  I don’t know how Charlie is going to treat me from here on out, because of this.  I doubt he’ll trust me, let me do much of anything without his supervision.  Hell, he doesn’t want me near Justin, but I made it clear to him that I had to be the one to bring him food and take him to the bathroom, because he’d seen my face already, and nobody else needed to be put at risk.  It was the only thing I’ve said to him all week that he seemed to take seriously, without slapping me across the face.  I was happy about it.  I like talking to Justin.  He’s the only one that’s been able to keep me calm during this situation, and that’s really messed up of course since he’s the victim, but I can’t deny that it’s true.

He’s so fucking genuine, and I wish we had kidnapped somebody else.  I’d rather be abusing a spoiled asshole, because I don’t think I’d feel as guilty then.  Justin is trying to make the best of this situation.

Justin actually wants to help me.

I shake my head roughly because the idea is so ridiculous.  As much as I’d like to believe him, tell myself that I could help him get out of here and start a new life with him, I know it would never happen.  He wants out of here, and he’ll tell me whatever he feels will work, to get me to play along.  I know the minute I allowed him to run, he’d get as far away from me as he could.  I wouldn’t blame him, but...I know I’d have to hunt him down and kill him.  

Charlie would force me to.

I’ve been trying to put the fact that we kissed out of my head.  I figured having sex with Adrian would help me take my mind off of it, but all it really did was remind me how good it felt to feel Justin’s skin on my skin.  I felt safe for the first time in years, and I can’t fucking explain that.  I don’t know him...not really.  Why should I be allowing my emotions to get the best of me when it comes to him?  Why do I allow myself to linger on how wonderful it would be to run away with him?  I have to stop.  I’m going crazy thinking about him like this, and I know that if I allow myself to give into him again...let his lips touch mine, I might not be able to stop myself from letting him get away.  God...I don’t want to think about the consequences of that.  

I know I’d be dead in a matter of minutes.

“Hey, why you still awake?”

I lift my head to meet Trevor’s gaze.  He’s another one of Adrian’s dealers, and I’ve known him about as long as I’ve known Adrian.  He’s always been around, handling part of Adrian’s dirty work when Charlie hasn’t been able to.  I know he gets paid a lot better than Charlie, and it’s something I’ve never understood.  I don’t ask questions though, because it’s not my place.  While he’s never hit me or anything, I know he works for Adrian and he’s just as dangerous as the rest of his dealers and lackeys.  “Couldn’t sleep,” I say quickly, wiping my eyes harshly, hoping that he won’t notice I’ve been crying.

“You okay?”

I’ve never told Charlie that Trevor and I are sort of friends.  I think he’d probably freak out, so I do the best I can to simply keep our friendship to myself.  I mean, I shouldn’t trust him, but I do.  He’s gentle, listens to me, and has never tried to get me in trouble with Charlie.  Not that I’ve ever really done anything to get myself in trouble, but still, I know Adrian would sell me out in a second if I lifted a finger wrong.  “I don’t know,” I say quietly.  “This whole thing is crazy.”

He sits back and puts his hands behind his head as he lets out a tired sigh.  “The last thing I expected was for you two to haul Justin Timberlake through the doorway this afternoon,” he says with a light laugh.  “How the hell did you pull it off?”

I rub my face with my hands.  “Fuck, Trev...I don’t even know anymore.  It was all so fast, and Justin...I just lured him in.”

“Oh you were being all sexy and shit?”

I roll my eyes.  “I guess so.”

“Adrian says he might send me to collect the ransom.”

I slowly meet his gaze, my eyes widening automatically.  “Trevor, please don’t mess up.”

“Wow,” he says.  “Thanks, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” I say quickly, wincing slightly in fear.  “Bad things will happen if this doesn’t go down the right way.”

He nods, seeming to understand.  “Yeah, I know that.  But I’m the best man Adrian’s got.  I’m not going to fuck it up, Sam.  I’ve done a lot of jobs for Adrian...worse ones, if you can believe that.”

I shake my head and look away from him.  “He deserves to get out of here, Trev.”

It’s quiet for awhile, and part of me thinks that my comment was too bold just now, that he thinks I’m siding with Justin instead of focusing on the money, but I just don’t care.  What happened in the basement earlier has completely changed my view on this entire situation.  If I could...if I knew I wouldn’t be killed, I’d go down there and let him go right now.  I’m done with this.  I don’t care about the money, or what Charlie thinks.

Hell, after this, I’m thinking about leaving Charlie on my own anyway.

“You’ve been talking to this guy?” Trevor laughs.

“I was elected to be caretaker,” I groan.  “Charlie said that because I’ve never been arrested it doesn’t matter if he sees my face.”

“You know,” Trevor laughs.  “I’m sorry, Sam, but he’s a fool.”

“Why?”

“The cops will find you even if you don’t have a record.  All they need is for Justin to give them a description and post a sketch of your face on the news.”

I start to tremble just slightly.  I would hate the spend the rest of my life in prison for this, but...at the same time I know I deserve it.  If Justin gets out of here and tells the cops about me, that’s his right.  I did an unspeakable thing to him, and he deserves justice.  “I’m going to try and get out of the country,” I tell him softly.  “With Charlie.”

“First you gotta get the money,” he reminds me.  “And...you gotta make sure Adrian doesn’t decide to fuck y’all over and keep it for himself.”

My eyes widen a little and I meet his gaze again.  “You think he’d do that?”

“I’ve known the guy for five years, and lived under the same roof as him for three,” he nods.  “He’s a cold hearted bastard, and if he can get more money out of this he’ll do it.  You better just watch your back girl.  You know he’s capable of shooting you both dead if it means a better outcome for him.”

I shudder as the realization hits me dead on.  I have no idea why I hadn’t thought of that before, but I know Trevor is right.  Adrian is an asshole, and if he can get more for himself and screw us over he will.  I want to warn Charlie but I have no idea what he’d say.  I doubt he’d listen to me, he never does. I mean, if  he did, we wouldn’t have had to kidnap Justin at all.  Fuck, I’m getting a terrible feeling about this.  Charlie  shouldn’t have gotten Adrian involved so soon.  “What should I do?”

For some reason, Trevor has always been sentimental towards me, and right now is no different.  He reaches a hand out and rubs my shoulder, doing his best to flash me a reassuring smile.  “I’ll watch out for you, girl,” he whispers.  “But you gotta keep your head up, aight?  Don’t do anything stupid, like let that kid downstairs get killed.  You gotta make sure of that.”

I cock my head to the side.  I can’t deny that I’m starting to get a little confused at his remark about Justin.  I mean, Trevor works for Adrian, and I know he does what he has to do to get the job done.  That includes killing people, and Justin shouldn’t matter to him this much.  “Why do you care if he dies?”

He sucks in a breath.  “Just trust me.”  He gets up a moment later, adjusting the gun in the front of his pants.  “I know what I’m talking about, Sam.”

I nod a little, and watch him as he walks away from me and down the hallway without so much as a goodnight.  I’m confused still, but I know it’s senseless to dwell on it for long.  I know I want to look out for Justin.  Hell, I don’t want anybody to get hurt, I just want to get the money so Adrian won’t kill us.  I mean, he could take it all at this point and I wouldn't’ care.  As long as I get out of this with my life and Justin does too I’ll be happy.  Charlie too...

I mean...yeah, I guess Charlie too.

It dawns on me that I’ve started not to care about him so much.  It’s crazy as hell.  I’ve only been talking to Justin for a few days and already I can see how much better my life would be if I got off this coke and dumped Charlie.  I could have a future, because I know I’m not a stupid girl, I’ve just made a lot of bad decisions.  Jesus, maybe Justin is right.  Maybe I should try to run away with him, escape from this horrible place and never look back.

Shit, I must be nuts.  There’s no way I could do any of that.  We’d both be dead within the hour, and that would be so fucking pointless.

No, I need to wait this out.

I silently make my way down the opposite hallway, and down the stairs that lead to Justin’s hiding place.  I know it’s risky.  If Charlie wakes up and catches me checking in on Justin he might throw a fit.  I stop at the mini fridge outside of the hidden room and grab some water so I’ll have an excuse.  Not that Charlie would care if I had an excuse, he thinks what he wants and nobody can tell him he’s wrong.  

But at the same time, as much as I’m afraid, I can’t stay away from Justin.

I slide the door open, and find him curled up in the middle of the floor.  For a moment I think he’s asleep, and almost turn back, but then he stirs, and he speaks up after a moment, his voice barely more than a scratchy whisper.

“Who is it?”

“It’s just me.”  I step further into the tiny room and slide the door closed behind me.  “I thought...I thought you might be thirsty.”

“I thought I told you to get out,” he says darkly.

“It’s pretty hard to get rid of me,” I say, trying to sound positive as I crouch down beside him.  “You should know that by now.”

He’s silent for a long time, and I don’t try to push him.  I find that it’s better to let him blow off some steam, and we usually end up having a better conversation because of it.  

“What was that before?” He says suddenly, as I begin to remove his blindfold.  

I pull it off the rest of the way and watch him squint for awhile, as I sigh and sit back against the wall.  “I don’t really know,” I mumble.  “I wish I did.”

“Well it confused the fuck out of me.”

“Oh yeah, and it was just so normal for me.”  I roll my eyes and take a swig out of one of the water bottles.  “You know, because making out with somebody I’ve kidnapped is an everyday thing, Justin.”

“We didn’t make out, we kissed,” he explains.  “Give me some water, will you? Jesus.”

I remember myself quickly and move close to him so I can hold the bottle to his lips.  He guzzles the water eagerly and I immediately feel like a piece of shit again.  “Sorry,” I tell him.  “I would have given you some more before but...”

“Yeah,” he says, coughing a little when I pull the bottle back from his mouth.  “But you were just a little distracted I guess.”

“Don’t blame the whole thing on me,” I snap.  “You’re just as guilty.”

“Look,” he sighs.  “I’m too tired to fight, and too scared to care who’s fault it was anymore, okay?  I could be dead tomorrow for all I know, and I need to get out of this before that can happen.  So are you going to help me out or not, Sam?”

I stare at him for awhile.  I want to help him so fucking desperately.  If I knew there was a chance, that nobody would be able to find him and that I wouldn’t be blamed, I’d let him go right now.  But that’s impossible.  Charlie has ensured me that I’ll be the one blamed if Justin gets out, since I’m the only one that’s been seeing to his needs.  “If I let you go I’ll die tomorrow,” I tell him.

“Not if you come with me,” he whispers.  

I shake my head roughly.

“Come on, Sam.”

“No.”  I push myself up from the ground.  “Charlie needs me, and I can’t leave him.”

“Then I’m going to fight you...the both of you,” he says, a deep hatred in his eyes.  “I’ll do what I have to do to get out on my own.”

“Not likely,” I say, not meeting his gaze.  “You’re not going anywhere tied up like that.”

“You’re vulnerable,” he sneers.  “I’ll get you off guard.”

“Then maybe I won’t come back,” I tell him harshly, hating myself for it.  “Nobody is making me help you out like this.  I’m doing it because I don’t want you to suffer.”

“You try being handcuffed and locked in a room for hours,” he snaps.  “It sucks whether or not you’re here, Sam.  Talking to you is pissing me off and completely pointless, so why don’t you just leave like you said?  I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

“You do though,” I point out.  “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be so dead set on getting me to come with you.”

He turns away from me then, and I know he’s had enough of the bickering.  I sigh.  I know I can’t comprehend exactly how fucked up he’s becoming because of this situation.  I mean, I have an idea, but I’m not the one locked in a room.  I want to help him out some other way, but I really have no solution other than to let him go, and I can’t do that.  I’m trapped.  I’m trapped just like he is.

And it’s hell.

“Justin...”

“When are you getting the money?” He cuts me off, harshly.  

I sigh.  “I don’t know.  They haven’t told me a thing.”

“Well damn, be useful and find out, would you?  I’m sure if you suck Charlie’s dick long enough, he’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Screw you.”

He’s silent.  I know he’s really angry, and of course I can’t blame him.  I need to give this up...this whole friendship thing with Justin, or whatever the hell it’s turning into, because that’s not reality.  I helped Charlie to kidnap him and put him in this horrific situation, that’s reality, that’s what I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.  I need to get it the fuck together.  Taking in a large breath, I push myself up from the floor, and crouch down beside Justin again so I can reapply his blindfold.  I’m silent as I perform the task, and he doesn’t say a word to me.  I wonder what’s going through his mind right now.  Is he scared? Confused? Is he thinking about me?

“Sam.”

I’m nearly out the door when I hear him gently say my name.  I want to walk away, try to rid myself of the horrible feeling I get knowing I’m torturing another human being.  It reminds me of my brother, of how he was most likely taken as a POW, and tortured...starved.  It makes me queasy, makes me want to run upstairs and take a nice hit of my coke to rid myself of these horrible emotions.  “I gotta go,” I say quietly.

“Sam I...I know we’re both confused.  My emotions are like this big mixed up pile of shit that I won’t be able to sort out for a long ass time, but I don’t...I don’t want that to make you lose sight of that fact that you’re not like them.  You’re a good person, and I’m...I’m sorry I blew up at you just now.  Just please...please don’t them him kill me.”

I can’t leave.  I can’t leave because he’s hit me right in the heart, and it hurts so fucking bad.  I crack.  I don’t want to but it’s not something I can hold back anymore.  I sob heavily into the door, my face pressed against it.  I ask God for a reason as to why this has to happen...why anything in my life has turned out the way it has.  But there are no answers.  Life is what you make of it I guess, and this is what I’ve done with mine.

Justin has done amazing things with his.

Now I’m destroying it all...and for what?

For fucking Charlie. Charlie who makes me live in fear of him.  Charlie who slaps me whenever he pleases.  Charlie...who keeps me addicted to drugs probably for his own gain, so he'll always have somebody to take his anger out on.

“Let me help you.”

He wants to help, but he can’t.  I’m too far gone.  Too much of a waste of life, to be helped at all.  “You can’t help me,” I sob, miserably.  “Nobody can help me now.”

“I’m asking you to trust me,” he says, as gently and calmly as ever.  “Just trust me, and I’ll help you, Sam.  I’ll make your life better, I promise you that.  Just untie me, and lets go...right now.”

I stare at him, trying to get my tears under control as I think about what he just said to me.  What if I could do it? What if I could take those cuffs off of him, and lead us out of here?  I mean, if I was to do it, tonight would be the night.  Adrian is passed out, and I’m pretty sure Charlie is too, along with all the other scum bags in this house.  I’m really good at creeping around, and being silent.  I’ve had to learn how, to be able to avoid waking Charlie up when I’ve needed to get away from him for a few hours.  “Maybe we could get out...if we don’t make noise.”

“That’s it, Sam,” he encourages.  “Just take the key and unlock these cuffs so we can get a plan going.”

I reach into my pocket, my hand closing around the tiny key a moment later.  I’m shaking as I step towards Justin again, my hand quivering as I crouch down and put the key into the first lock.  “What if something goes wrong,” I whisper, as if the whole house could be listening in on this conversation.  “What if somebody wakes up?”

“That’s the chance we’ll have to take,” he tells me, seriously.  “Don’t think about that, all right?  Just think positive.”

I try to take his advice, try to put Charlie and the two years of abuse he’s given me out of my mind as I turn the key in the lock.  Soon, Justin’s handcuffs are off completely, and he yanks the blindfold off of his face, as I work on the cuffs locked around his ankles.  

“What’s the easiest way out of here,” he says, a little breathlessly.

I finished removing the cuffs and toss them to the side.  Then, I meet his gaze.  He’s tired...no, exhausted.  Exhausted, and weak, and confused but still, he’s smirking.  Smirking because he’s filled with hope once again.  “Up and out,” I say nervously.  “It’s the only way I know of.”

He nods and his brow furrows as he begins to ponder what I’ve just told him.  “And you’re sure everyone is sleeping?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Then lets go.”

I raise myself off the floor, slowly, and reach out my hand to help him to his feet, which he accepts and doesn’t let go of as I lead the way to the sliding door.  Once I get it open, I cautiously stick my head out, just to make sure there’s nobody lurking nearby.  The coast is clear, thankfully, and so I pull Justin along behind me.  Then we’re out of the room.  I turn to look at him, and his eyes are filled with a triumphant gleam, as if he’s never been so happy to be in a new place before.  

“Give me your gun.”

I could kick myself, because I know where my gun is, and it’s not in my pants like it should be.  Instead, it’s on Adrian’s nightstand.  I look at him, feeling like I might cry.  “I don’t have it.”

He cocks his head to the side.  “Where is it?”

“It’s in Adrian’s room.”r32;

He lets go of my hand after that, and stares me down with sad eyes.  “So you did it?”

I tear my gaze away from his.  “I didn’t have a choice.”  I look at the floor as I say the words to him, because I know he’s disappointed.  He thought that I’d be able to think it through, give Charlie an excuse as to why I wasn’t going to sleep with Adrian.  I’m not that strong though, and I wish Justin could get that through his head.  If I was strong, I would have been able to come up with a better plan to get out of debt than taking Justin captive.  

“You had a choice,” he whispers.

“I can’t talk about this right now.”  I storm ahead of him and expect him to follow behind me.  “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it fast.”

He doesn’t reply, but I hear him following behind me so I know he’s decided to drop the subject for the time being.  I step on the first stair, thankful when it doesn’t make noise, and look over my shoulder, motioning for Justin to follow me.  It seems like we’re climbing Everest, because it takes such a long time to get to the very top of the staircase.  I turn back to him once my left foot hits the top stair, and whisper for him to be quiet because I’m about to open the door.  He nods, the fear in his eyes more than obvious.  He knows this is a gamble, that one of Adrian’s goons could be waiting outside that door with a gun, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take if it means he can be free of this horrible nightmare.

And I guess if he can be this brave, so can I.

I open the door, very slowly, just enough so I can peer out of it without having to stick my head out.  The house is like I left it before, dark...silent.  “I think we’re okay,” I tell him, hardly above a whisper, and I feel him take my hand.

“I’m right behind you.”

We’re standing in the middle of Adrian’s living room about five seconds later.  I can hear Justin breathing heavily, and I know he’s terrified.  I try to think about what the next plan of action should be.  Do I simply make a run for that front door with Justin in tow? Do I try to get a weapon first?  Fuck, I just don’t know.  I don’t know what’s the safer play.  I turn to Justin, hoping like hell that he’ll have an answer for me, since this was his brilliant idea to begin with.  “What now?” I ask him.

He looks around in curiosity before meeting my gaze again.  “We need to get out,” he says quietly.  “Where’s the door?”

“This way.”  I don’t hesitate to lead the way.  I figure that Justin has a good head on his shoulders, and if he thinks this is the best way to escape, then so be it.  

It’s crazy how dependent I am on other people.

The door is literally inches from us now, and I feel my stomach beginning to do flip flops, the idea that I might actually be getting out of this, that I might be able to have an actual life, being too much for me to take in at once.  

“Come on, Sam.”  Justin urges, racing ahead of me so he can throw the door open.  “Come on!”

My mind forces me to move faster, and I quickly follow Justin out onto the landing once he’s opened the door.  The wind blows softly, an owl hoots in the pitch blackness of the night, and it’s fucking wonderful.

It feels wonderful that I’ve actually accomplished something.  That...I’ve started to save Justin’s life as well as my own.

We race down the stairs, my hand tightly grasped in his, making a run for it once our feet hit the gravel driveway.  There’s nothing but the sound of our heavy breathing as we run, the stillness of the night almost eerily quiet, but I try not to take notice.  The faster we run, the further away I am from Charlie, his drugs, and my own personal hell.

But then...there’s a light in the distance, and all the hope that has built up inside of me over the last half hour suddenly begins to fade away.

“What’s that.”  Justin says, skidding to a stop as the light gets closer to us.

“I...I dunno.” My throat goes dry and I try to catch my breath, but the fear building up inside of me won’t allow it.

“Get down!”

He pulls me into the bushes at the side of the driveway, and I’m able to hear the sound of a car motor looming closer.  Somebody has returned to base, and I have no idea who.  No matter who it is though, they’re going to find out soon enough that Justin and I are both gone, and we’ll begin to be hunted like animals.  I have no doubt in my mind that Adrian will shoot us both dead the moment we’re caught, and I start to tremble at the prospect.  “We shouldn’t have done this,” I say, my voice trembling.  “Justin, we shouldn’t have done this.”r32;

“Calm down,” he rasps.  “They’ll hear you.”

A set of car doors slam.  I hear footsteps, and gruff voices.  One sounds like Charlie’s, one like Adrian’s, and I feel like I’m going to vomit.  It means that Adrian must have left the house while I was downstairs, and I had the perfect opportunity to grab my gun.  We’d be protected, if I’d simply thought to check, and now this whole thing has turned into a cat and mouse game.  The minute it’s discovered Justin and I are missing, we’ll have no choice but to run for our lives.

“We’re already getting ten million,” I hear Charlie say.  “That should be enough, don’t you think?”

“Not if we can get more.”

Justin and I exchange glances, both of us knowing what that means, and also knowing that it’s anything but good news.  Now more than ever, I know I have to get Justin out of this.  The ransom has been met, that’s obvious, and now Adrian wants more.  I knew this would happen, and I really wish that Charlie had listened to me from the get go.

“Adrian, man...it was hard enough getting this much...”

“Who’s calling the shots?,” Adrian barks.  “I really don’t think it’s you anymore.  Now go get that whore of yours to give Justin the news, and I’ll talk to him more in the morning.”

In about five minutes, everyone will know that we’ve gotten out, and I really wish they’d get inside so Justin and I can get a head start.  I look over at him again, and he looks like he’s going to be sick.  But naturally he’d feel that way.  I mean, he must feel like a walking talking bank for Adrian now, and I know that he’s grateful to be out of that house.  It’s keeping him this way that’s going to be the problem.

But I can do it.  Yeah.  I can do it.

It seems like ages before they both climb the stairs and disappear inside the house, and it takes even longer for the automatic spotlight to go out, but it finally does.  We wait about ten more minutes in intense fear, before feeling safe enough to climb out of the bushes again.  Then we start running, too terrified to bother holding hands this time.  The driveway seems to stretch for miles upon miles, and I never feel more relieved when I see the large black iron gate looming in the distance.  “This is it,” I breathe out to him a moment later.  “Once we get past the gate, the nearest gas station is a few miles down the road.”

He doesn’t answer, just starts running faster, and I know that he’s desperate to be saved at this point.  Desperate to be free.  He has his family to get home to, something I wish that I had.

But maybe he’ll include me in all of that, once he’s safe and sound.

Maybe I’ll be able to see my family again too.

“It’s a code,” he tells me, uselessly hitting the buttons on the keypad, once we reach the closed and locked gate.  “What’s the code Sam?”

I don’t know the fucking code.  I didn’t count on having a code to crack, or hell...even getting out of the house with Justin.  What do I do?  What do I tell him?  I feel myself start to lose it again.  “I...I don’t know the code,” I whimper.

A spotlight snaps on above us.

Oh no.

“Shit.”  Justin says, the panic in his voice more than obvious.  “There’s gotta be a way.  Tell me there’s a way, Sam.  Come on!”

“I...”  I run my hands though my hair, and try not to cry, but it’s useless.  The tears are rolling down my face a moment later, because I know we’re done for.  We’re fucked...dead, and it’s all my fault for not thinking ahead.  “Justin I don’t know!”

He starts pounding on the key pad furiously, trying every combination he can think of to make the gates open, but of course they never do.  Soon I hear the familiar sounds of a car engine roaring towards us, and I look to Justin, hoping he’ll have gotten the code figured out by some grace of God.  Naturally he doesn’t.  Instead, he’s trying to hoist himself up the bars of the gate, miserably sliding down them only seconds after he gets both feet off the ground.  There’s not enough grip, and the gate is too large to be climbed without a rope in the first place.

I’ve officially failed him.

The car, a sleek looking black mercedes, skids to a stop just feet from the two of us.  I see a figure get out of the passenger side, who I recognize as Trevor, despite the fact that he has a ski mask over his face.  His gun is drawn, and his stance is more intimidating than I’ve ever seen before.  Sure, we may be friends, but he works for Adrian, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill me on command if that’s what he was told to do.  

“Put your hands up.” Trevor says, almost in a gentle way.  “Behind your head.”  

I pathetically give in, and raise my hands, folding them behind my head.  I pray that Justin has done this as well, but I’m too scared to look back and check on him.

Then another figure emerges from the drivers side, ski mask protecting his identity.  It only takes a moment for me to know it’s Charlie, and I know things are only going to get worse from here.

“Help!” Justin yells.

I look back over my shoulder and find that he’s run up to the gate, pressing his face between the bars as he pathetically cries to be rescued. “Help me!”

“Help isn’t coming, asshole.”  Charlie draws his gun, and pulls me by the hair as he storms over to Justin.  I cry out in pain when it feels like the hair is about to be ripped out of my head, even though I know I deserve this.

I hear Justin get punched and kicked, then I hear his body collapse to the ground.  Charlie spins me around, and forces me to kneel on the ground, so I can see exactly what he’s doing to Justin.  He has his foot on Justin’s windpipe, ready to crush it at any moment, all the while keeping his gun pointed at him.  “Stop!” I cry out.  “It’s my fault!”

“Take her!” He calls back to Trevor.  “Take her inside!”

I’m grabbed off the ground a moment later, my arm being twisted behind me by Trevor, who starts to push me forward.  “Don’t kill him!” I scream as I’m lead away.  “Please don’t kill him!”

“What the fuck were you thinking,” Trevor harshly whispers as he pushes me forward.

I can’t say anything.  All I can do is sob, and wonder what the hell I’ve just done.  Have I gotten Justin killed? Have I gotten myself killed too?  I have no idea.  “Trevor, go back,” I sob.  “Go back and tell Charlie not to kill him.”

He ignores me.

I’m forced up the long staircase and back into the house.  Trevor leads me down a hallway, and I’m pushed into one of the spare bedrooms.  The door is slammed in my face, and I try as hard as I can to open it back up again.  Trevor has all his weight against it though, and I’m no match for him.  I hear clicking.  The door is being locked, and I scream at him to let me out, but it’s as if I don’t even exist.  Sooner rather than later I hear him walk away, and I know I’m alone.  A loud, pathetic sob escapes me as I slide down to the floor, my ears straining to hear the gun shot...the one that tells me Justin has been killed.  I know Charlie is more enraged than ever, having caught the two of us together, and I know he’ll do it, whether or not Adrian wants him to.

“Please,” I whisper, rocking myself back and forth.  “Please help him.”

I thought I was going to be shot dead, so I just laid there and waited for him to pull the trigger as he pressed his gun harder into the middle of my forehead.  I thought about a lot of things in those few seconds, because I wanted to remember as much as I could about the good things and good people in my life before I died.  My mom came first. I thought about her smile, the way she laughed, and the way she hugged me.  It was the first and only thing that made my attention drift from who I knew was Charlie looming above me.  My Dad came next, with our weekend fishing trips, and the way he had always made me feel like his son, even though we weren’t related by blood.  Then there was Trace, with his wisecracks and all the crazy shit we’d done together.  Then Rachael, with her witty sarcasm, and the way she could sit with me and rub my shoulders, letting me know that she understood the reason why I was moody most of the time.

Of course Shelly came next.

I remembered the love we made, how much I loved to kiss her, and just...hold her.  I remembered the way I felt the first time I ever saw her, how she could brighten my day by simply sitting with me and humming a stupid song that nobody even cared about.  I knew I still loved her.  I knew I wanted to see her again...hold her again.

Maybe that’s why I built up enough courage to snap out of it.

“You kill me and you can kiss your money goodbye,” I managed to say, despite the fact that Charlie’s foot was still pressed against my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe.  “You know that as well as I do.”

He kicked me savagely in the stomach and I groaned loudly in pain, coughing harshly until I tasted blood in my mouth. I looked down at the gravel, and could see little flecks of it gleaming under the bright spotlight.  It couldn’t be good, but I knew it was possible.  He’d kicked me a good six or seven times in the gut, groin, and face since he’d caught us by the gate, and I knew there was plenty more coming at me.  I wanted to fight back, to kick his ass like I’d been dying to since the day he put me in handcuffs, but I was too afraid of his gun to make any sudden movements.  Despite the fact that he wanted money, I knew he was crazy.  Crazy people can take a turn for the worse in the blink of an eye, and I knew it would only take one slip of his finger to shoot me in the head.

So I let him have his way.

The pain has left parts of me completely numb .  I can’t feel my right arm, parts of my left leg, and my entire abdomen is throbbing in pain.  I feel like my entire face has swelled up like some kind of strange tomato.  I’m unable to open one of my eyes, and one is on its way there.  I’d hate to see my reflection right now.  My groin is another story that I won’t get into at the moment, but all I can say is that I’ll be lucky if I can have sex normally after this.

I don’t know where I am now.  Charlie yanked a bag over my head when he was done kicking the crap out of me, and taken back to what I assumed was the house.  I was carried over his shoulder, and eventually shoved down onto a hard surface, which I eventually realized was a chair after some feeling around with the tips of my fingers.  I tried to get up and run despite being blindfolded but I guess Charlie was too swift for me.  The next thing I felt was his gun to my head and he didn’t need to say anything more for me to get the hint that I needed to surrender to him.  He strapped me down to the chair with something, and put me in handcuffs again.  It was only then that the bag was ripped off of my head, and I gasped a little, almost forgetting about his ski mask.  

He’s pretty muscular, almost like I thought he would be, but he’s not very tall.  I think the only thing that makes him intimidating is the gun in his hand and the fact that he’s rendered me helpless.  Otherwise, I’m sure I could take him out.  Hell, when I was younger, I used to get into fist fights with guys twice Charlie’s size.  Only...they didn’t want to kill me.

“What’d you say to her?” Was the first thing he asked me.

“Nothing,” I murmured, knowing it was a lie but not caring either.  What happened between Sam and I was none of his business, and I wasn’t about to give him a reason to do more horrible things to her.  

I was slapped across the face.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said menacingly, as he came closer and put his masked face right in front of my bruised one.  “I know you must have told her something.  Sam isn’t stupid.  She wouldn’t have just tried to help you escape like that, and I want to know what you fucking said to her.”

I’d been trying to put off thinking about her until I could think straight again.  I knew when that guy had hauled her away, that anything could have happened.  I mean...I knew she could have been killed for what she tried to do for me, and it was all my fault for persuading her to help me.  “Where is she?”

“Don’t worry about where she is,” he said.  “Just tell me what I want to know.”

“Did you ever think that maybe she wanted to get away from you?” I asked him darkly.  “You slap her around and treat her like a piece of garbage.  She deserves to be happy.  All I did was point it out to her, and I think I made her realize what she’s been missing out on.”

Naturally, I was dealt more blows because of this.  Charlie knew he was losing.  Even if he did get the money he wanted for me, he knew that Sam wouldn’t love him the way he wanted her to.  It was dangerous.  I knew he could go and kill her if he hadn’t done so already, but I wanted to get my point across.  “You’re going to lose,” I said, coughing harshly once he stopped hitting me again.  “Either way, money or no money, she’ll never really love you.”

He became enraged, holding his gun harshly to my head again, calling me and my mother every name under the sun.  He told me he was going to go to my house and sodomize her or some shit, that he was going to chop me up into little pieces and hand deliver my remains to her.  I remained calm, refused to let him conquer me like that.  I knew I was close to death.  I’d basically accepted the fact that I blew my last chance at escape...that once they got the rest of the money they were after, Charlie would kill me as a bonus.  It was reality, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, so I was going to make my point known while I still could.

After awhile, he gave up trying to talk to me.  I’m sure he was fed up, and knew I wouldn’t do anything else besides piss him off more, so he left me alone.  It took me a really long time to come out of my daze.  I drifted in and out of consciousness due to the beating he gave me.  He hadn’t blindfolded me again, which at first I thought was a blessing, but quickly realized how sick it was actually making me.  The room wouldn’t stop spinning, and the light from above was blinding me, making me feel queasy at the same time.  Eventually, I ended up vomiting all over myself.  It was terrible...worse than being hungover and puking into the toilet.  I was strapped down to the chair, and couldn’t wipe my face or anything.  I prayed for somebody to come, to give me water.  I prayed for Sam...

But nobody has come, and I have no idea if Sam is okay.

This place is like a fucking compound or something.  When we were outside, I couldn’t help but marvel at how big the house and grounds are.  It’s even bigger than my own place, and I know whoever this Adrian guy is, he sure has a lot of money.  I’m assuming he’s a drug lord on top of being a loan shark, and I have a very bad feeling that I’ve been plunged into some very dirty, dangerous waters.  I feel stupid that I screamed for help.  We’re in the middle of a desolate property, and that’s why Charlie brought us here in the first place.  I was just so desperate to escape that I didn’t think things through.  Sam...she just said that she would help me and I jumped at the chance.  What I should have done was sat with her and formulated a plan, but I was blinded by the thought of being in my moms arms again. We were so fucking close to getting out too.  I could see the main road when I stuck my head in between the bars of the gate, and I felt like crying.  It just wasn’t fair.  It was like fate was playing some cruel joke on me.  I mean, a fucking code?  Why couldn’t I have thought of that? Why didn’t Sam think of that?

It’s too late now to point fingers and think about what we both should have done though.  I have to concentrate on what the next step is, find out what’s going on with the ransom.  I heard Charlie and that Adrian guy talking about the money earlier and it didn’t sound good.  Adrian wants more, and he’s willing to take the ten million as a down payment for keeping me alive.  I want to ask him what kind of sick bastard would do that to somebody's family, but I’m sure I’d just receive another swift kick to the gut, and I can’t afford it at this moment in time.

I cough again, closing my eyes and groaning softly when I see the blood land on my filthy shirt.  This is bad, really bad.  Somehow, I have to make myself get better so I can continue to fight, but how the fuck do I do that?  I need water...food, a shower, and a bed.  Hell, probably a doctor too, but I think that might be asking for too much at this point.

I think Sam might have a good idea.

But...Sam isn’t here.

I’m becoming more desperate by the minute, knowing she’s gone, and that’s fucking crazy.  I barely know her.  She’s a drug addicted criminal who happened to catch me at the wrong place at the right time, and it’s her fault that all this has happened.  Why then, is it so damn hard for me to hold her responsible? Why then...did it feel so damn good to kiss her?  Maybe I’m just sick.  Maybe all this captivity I’ve been faced with has made me start to go crazy, and I’m not thinking straight.  Yeah, that’s gotta be it.  I’m sure the moment I’m able to get out of here, and go back home, she’ll be nothing but a distant, horrible memory.

I close my eyes again, and try to rid myself of her memory.  Try to forget about the fact that I’ve come to care about her so much over the matter of a few days.  “Forget her,” I say to myself.  “Fucking forget her.  Do you see where you are? Tied to a chair? Coughing up blood?  Focus on that.  Fucking focus!”

God damn, I’m going insane.

I feel the hot tears on my face and I hate it.  Damn it, I’m so worried about her that it’s making me cry.  Crying is for faggots.  I wish somebody would just come down here and tell me if she’s alive or not.  That way, I can start to live with it, and try to move on if it turns out that she really is dead.  But Charlie wouldn’t allow that.  No...he wants me to suffer like this, not knowing.  He wants me to sweat, get sick, and cry, because hates me.

And he knows that I hate what’s happened to me...to my life.

Nobody has ever controlled me before.  Not even my mother, not completely.  I’ve always respected her of course, but when it’s come to my life, and my decisions, the only person I’ve ever relied on is myself.  Most people get really pissed off at that, even Trace and Rachael, despite the fact that they’re used to it. But now, for the first time in my life, I’m being forced to live by someone else’s rules and commands.  I think out of everything, that’s what’s pissing me off the most.  I feel so damn weak, like a child, and I have to do something.  I know trying to escape is dangerous as hell, but I can’t just sit here and let my life be decided for me.

I still have to fight, despite what’s happened.

I start to struggle for the first time since I was dragged back into the house.  I twist and turn my body against the straps binding me down to the chair, knowing it’s still going to be hard trying to run with my hands cuffed behind me if I get out of this, but not caring at the same time.  Hell, I’m surprised I even have the energy to do this, and I start to wonder what’s keeping me going anymore.  My mouth is dry, and my stomach growls a little bit every now and then.  I have nothing in my system at the moment, and what food I’ve been given has been shit that’s made me feel sick.  Sam meant well of course...

Damn it, I’m not going to think about her.

I start to rock the chair from side to side, having the brilliant idea that if I rock it hard enough, and make myself fall over, that the chair will somehow break and I’ll be able to wriggle free from these restraints.  They’re like buckles that pull tight around my body so I can’t move around...almost like seatbelt buckles.  Those kinds of things that they’d used on somebody in the nut house to strap them to the bed, and all I can think is that Charlie is a sick fucking asshole.  I become angrier as my rocking gets more intense, feeling my face grow hot, the tears threatening to spill out of my swollen eyes.

And then it happens.

My head collides with the hard floor automatically, and I feel intense pain shooting up and down the left side of my head as everything starts to spin again.  

“Great fucking idea.  Now, on top of everything else, you’ve gone and given yourself a concussion.”

I squint my eyes as I peer ahead, knowing that it’s impossible, but not being able to deny what I see despite that.  “Trace?” I whimper.r32;
“What are you doing, Justin?” He snaps, as he starts to pace the room.  “You’re not going to do anything but get yourself killed at the rate you’ve been going, and then what? Everyone is already enough of a mess, and I’m not even going to talk about your mom, because you don’t need anymore stress right now.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do!” I yell back at him, deliriously.  “Why don’t you stop giving me the third degree and help me out!”

He just glares at me.  “You could get yourself out of this, if you’d stop letting your dick get in the way.”  He crosses his arms and shakes his head at me, something I’m accustomed to seeing whenever I make a stupid ass decision.  “I mean, yeah she’s a pretty girl...nice rack, and I’m sure she’s great in bed, but honestly...you’re fucking kidnapped and she’s a crack head.  Snap out of it!”

Then he’s gone.

“Asshole!”  I yell out, feeling stupid automatically.  Shit...shit...now I’m hallucinating.  I blink a few times, and my vision starts to clear slightly, but not by much.  God, I wish that had been reality.  I wish Trace were here.  The crazy thing is, he probably would have said all of that to me right now, only he would have been getting me out of this chair at the same time.  I probably shouldn’t be wishing he was here though.  That would mean he’d be a part of this whole thing too, and I’d never want to wish this kind of a thing on anyone.

Well, except for Charlie, but that’s completely different.

The pounding in my head gets more intense, as I painstakingly try to maneuver myself towards the door.  This isn’t the same room as before, I’ve known that from the time I was locked in here.  I think it used to be a bedroom.  It has nice hardwood flooring that I’m scratching up with the chair, but no windows.  There’s no furniture either, only emptiness that makes me feel even more alone, but for some reason it’s giving me more of a boost to get out of here.  Getting out that door will bring me closer to finding out what happened to Sam.  I can help her.  I can get to her, she can take my handcuffs off, and we can try to find another way out of this place together.  This time we’ll be more prepared...we won’t let Charlie and his gun intimidate us.

Yeah.

It seems like hours go by before I end up literally inches from the door.  I breathe in and out heavily, surprised by the fact that I haven’t passed out from sheer exhaustion.  Once I get some more stamina, I start to knock part of the chair against the wall with my body.  It barely does anything besides make a lot of unwanted noise and I start to lose hope, really fast.  Then...footsteps.  Someone is coming closer and closer, and I’m sure it’s probably Charlie.  If I’m right, and he walks in on me like this, I can only imagine how angry he’ll be.  I’ll be kicked, punched, and cussed out all over again.

Only this time, I doubt I’ll be able to handle it.  

I lie completely still as I hear keys being inserted into the locks on the outside of the door.  Not that it matters if I’m still or not, but I guess the fear is simply paralyzing me.  Fuck, I hate that I’m this scared of Charlie.  He’s such a fucking punk, and no match for me in the real world but yet he’s in complete control of me.  I gotta snap out of it.

But how?

The door opens, and I watch the masked gunman enter the room with wide eyes.  I think I stop breathing for a moment or two.  It’s not Charlie.  No, it can’t be.  This person is much shorter, but still really muscular.  My heart starts to race.  He’s a stranger, and a stranger could have only been sent in here for one purpose... to shoot me dead.  “Please,” I say pathetically.  “I can get him more money.  I swear I can.”

He crouches down beside me and sighs heavily.  “Just relax.  I’m not going to hurt you.”  He reaches up and removes his ski mask, and I’m completely shocked.  “Just stay quiet for now.  I’ll help you up.”

He’s really young, probably just around my age, or a couple of years behind.  A muscular African American kid, medium height, with a shaved head and a gun that looks more intimidating in his hand than Charlie’s does when he points it at me.  With a grunt and a groan he pulls the chair back to its upright position, and I can’t say anything to him.  I feel completely defeated now.  It took hours to get that close to the door and now I’ve been shot down all over again.  “Who are you?” I whisper as he backs away from me. “Where’s Sam?”

“She’s around,” he tells me, ignoring my first question as he pulls a small bottle of water out of his pocket and unscrews the cap.  “Drink now, questions later.”

I do as he says, eagerly guzzling down the small amount of water in a matter of seconds.  Strangely enough, I’m not afraid of this guy at all, despite the fact that he’s working for Adrian and he’s friends with Charlie.  Something about him is calming me down, telling me that I don’t have to worry as long as he’s around, and I know that’s a positive thing.  “Thanks,” I manage to say.

He nods.  “You’re beat to shit.  How’s your breathing?”

I don’t have a clue as to why he would care.  Maybe Sam sent him to check on me or something, and I start to get hope back that she’s doing just fine.  “I’m okay I guess, just in a lot of pain.”

“Yeah well, you were stupid to do what you did.”

I ignore his statement and simply focus on the current situation.  “Why...why are you helping me?”r32;

“Look,”  he takes a moment to glance over his shoulder before reaching into the back pocket of his pants and pulling out a little black wallet, unfolding it to reveal a shiny metal police badge.  “I’m a cop.  My name is Alex Williams to you, Trevor to everyone under this roof.”

My eyes widen and my heart starts to race.  Fuck, I’m saved.  “Shit, get me out of here.  Get me out of here, please,” I whimper, giving him a desperate look.  “Untie me.”

“It’s not that simple,” He whispers.  “As of right now, nobody knows about this but you, and you gotta keep your mouth shut, especially to Sam.  I can’t just take you out of here.  They’ll know right away, and we’ll both be dead.”

I start to cry like a fool, because the situation is so fucked up.  Here he is, a cop, and yet...I still can’t go home.  “This is fucking stupid.  You might as well kill me now.”r32;
“Stop it,” he grunts.  “Man up, Justin.  I know this is a shitty situation, but I’m here to help you.  I went and saw your family early this morning, and they know what’s going on. My task force back at the base and I are working out a plan, and we’re going to get you home safe, but you have to play your part too.”

I stop crying.  I know it’s not helping anything, and this guy is right...I have to be strong and play along with this whole thing if I expect to get out of here.  I can have hope now, I know that.  I know he’s smart and he’s going to do what he has to do so I can go home.  “How did you find me?”

He laughs.  “Funny thing is, you found me.  I’ve been working undercover here for five years, trying to bust this fuckin’ drug ring.  You can imagine how ecstatic my Sergeant is about this whole thing.  If I play my cards  right, I might crack two cases in one, and get to have some kind of a life again.”

That’s great for him, and maybe if I wasn’t in so much pain and under so much pressure I’d be able to be happy for him, but as of right now I don’t give a shit about his life or his career.  The only thing I can think about are the facts. He’s a cop, I’m tied to a chair, and yet he still can’t get me out of here yet.  That means I still have a chance of being killed, and I don’t understand how my luck could be running this badly.  “So what...you’re just going to take a gamble, and hope I don’t get shot in the head?” I grumble.

“There’s supposed to be a money exchange tomorrow,” he tells me, seriously.  “We have a plan in the works, and I just need you to sit tight until then.  Don’t give them anymore problems, all right?”

I take in a long breath so I don’t start yelling at him.  I know it wouldn’t be the best idea, especially because I know Charlie might be able to hear me.  “Fine,” I nod.  “I...I’ll figure out how to make the best of this I guess.”

He pats me on the shoulder.  “I’m sorry that I can’t do more for you right now,” he says solemnly, as he pulls the ski mask back over his face.  “You sure that you’re breathing okay?”

I nod a little.  “I’ll make it,” I tell him.  “But what about Sam?”

“Forget about her,” he says, in a disgusted tone.  “She’s as bad as the rest of these assholes, and I’ll make sure she stays away from you, so she can’t fuck with your head anymore.”

I shake my head roughly, knowing that Alex is going to think I’ve gone off the deep end but not caring at the same time.  “I have to see her again.”

“You’re confused,” he says, sadly.  “And I’m sorry Justin, but you’ll thank me later. I promise.”

He starts to walk away from me, but I can’t just settle for that answer.  I have to know that she’s going to be okay.  That nobody is going to hurt her, or worse.  “Wait! I need to know if she’s going to be okay!”

He pauses at the door, and lets out a long sigh as he turns his gaze back to me.  “She’ll be okay,” he nods.  “You can trust me.”

“All right.”  

He nods once more before walking out the door and locking it again.  A sense of relief washes over me, but not because of the fact that a cop is under the same roof as I am.  It’s because I know she’s going to be okay.  Alex is going to watch over her, and I’ve never been more thankful for anything in my life.  I smile just a little, but it hurts my face too much so I let it fade.  My eyes begin to close a few minutes later, and I know I’m exhausted from falling over before.  I try to keep them open, and continue to struggle pathetically against the straps, but it’s pointless.  I allow myself to drift off after that, but I keep waking up every few minutes because my head will droop too far, or I’ll start to have some crazy dream.  It’s horrible, I can’t even sleep this way, and part of me is hoping that Charlie will come in and drug me again so I can have some peace.

But that doesn’t happen.

I hear lots of footsteps and voices outside the room, what seems like hours later.  I recognize Charlie’s voice, along with Adrian’s, but their voices are too muffled to pick out a clear conversation.  Then I hear the door being unlocked again, and my heart starts to pound furiously in my chest.  God, I’m terrified.  I don’t want to be kicked around, or have a gun shoved in my face anymore.

I start to cry and I can’t even control it anymore.

I recognize Charlie despite his ski mask as he bursts the door open and rushes into the room.  My body goes tense, pressing itself into the chair as if I could be protected this way.  “What...”

He slaps me and I groan a little.  “Just shut up.”  He unscrews the cap to a bottle of water and presses it to my lips.  “Drink and don’t get smart.”

I nod, sending him a hateful glare despite the fact that I could get a swift blow to the gut for it, as I allow the cool liquid to enter my mouth.  I hate that he’s smiling as he watches me.  He feels great knowing that he has control...that he knows so much about my personal life...about my family and friends.  It’s none of his fucking business, and he’s a sick enough bastard that he probably takes pride in having complete control of my personal life.  

He allows me to drink my fill, which is really unlike him, but I don’t question his motives.  He walks around the back of my chair once he screws the bottle cap back on and makes sure to tighten the straps that are holding me down to the chair.  “When is this going to end,” I mutter.

“Don’t ask questions.  You’re lucky that you’re still alive, after the shit you pulled.  If it was up to me you’d be dead and buried already,” Charlie grunts.  “Now just sit there, and shut up.”  

He walks away, and flicks off the light before leaving the room.  It’s pitch fucking black, and I feel even worse than I did before.  The best thing to do is sleep, and I know that, but I just can’t do it.  I’m terrified, hungry, and in a lot of fucking pain.  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of a better place, a better time, anything at all...

“Fifty bucks says you ain’t got shit.”

I let out a cocky laugh, and throw more chips into the middle of the table.  “Try me, Ayala.”

He smirks, shifting the green visor on his head as he leans back in his chair.  “So debonair, Justin.”

“Did you just say, debonair?” Rachael throws her head back and cackles.  “You’re such a fag, Trace.”

“Fag ain’t the word,” I say, my laughter nearly overpowering my words.  “Debonair, shit.”

“Read ‘em and weep,” Trace says, shrugging off our laughter as he lays his hand down on the table.  “And Justin, you know what’s going to happen when you lose.”

“What?” Rachael asks.  

I roll my eyes.  “I never agreed to that.”

Trace just snickers devilishly.  “A deal is a deal.”

“What? Tell me!” Rachael exclaims.  “I want to be in on the gossip.”

“Jason and I are setting Justin up on a blind date,” Trace informs her with a smile.  “Cool idea right?”

“Are you kidding?” Rachael scoffs.  “That poor girl...”r32;

I throw a pretzel at her head.  “Fuck you, Rach.”  I lay my cards out on the table, only now taking notice of  Trace’s hand.  I go numb inside.  That motherfucker has four aces.  How the hell did he get four aces?  “You must have cheated,” I grumble.  “You just want me to make an ass out of myself on this stupid date.”

“Actually, I didn’t cheat,” Trace smiles stupidly at us both, and sweeps all the chips over to his side of the table.  “Just luck, I guess.  But now, I get all the spoils.”r32;

“This girl could be crazy,” I tell him.

“Oh come on,” Rachael says, nudging me in the arm.  “Give it a chance.  You need to get out and date more, you know.  It’s not like you’re working right now.  Your mom thinks you and Trace are turning into a couple of hermits.”

“I’m not a hermit,” I groan, scratching the thick beard on my face.  “Trace and I are experimenting.”

“I’m shaving it next week,” Trace tells her.  “I look like a fucking forest man or something.  Elisha is starting to hate it, and I can’t have that happening.”

“You didn’t tell me you were shaving it, Trace,” I say.

“Well now you know,” he laughs.  “Come on dude, it’s getting old.”

“He’s right, Justin,” Rachael agrees.  “You look like a fucking hillbilly.  I wont’ let you go on a date looking like you do.”r32;

“I’m not going on a date.”r32;

“Yes you are,” she smiles.

“No.”r32;

“You’re going,” Trace says.  “You lost the game and that was the agreement.”

I really hate them both.

“Her name’s Shelly, I’ve met her before, don’t worry,” Trace reassures me as he begins to shuffle the deck of cards.  “I wouldn’t set you up with some weirdo.”

“You would,” I glare.  “Just to get a laugh.”

“Wake up, reject,” Rachael drones.

I look at her, not really understanding why she’s changed her attitude so suddenly.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I said wake up!” She reaches across the table and shakes me hard.  

“Wake the fuck up.”

My eyes snap open, and I find that I’m face to face with a masked gunman once again, there’s only one major difference.  I’m not strapped to that chair anymore.  Instead, I’ve been situated on the floor in the middle of Adrian’s gigantic living room, one ankle chained to the coffee table in the center of it, hands cuffed in front of me.  I start to tremble.  I don’t like this at all, and I have no idea what’s in store for me now.

“Is he awake?”

I’m kicked in the gut and I know it’s Charlie that’s been standing above me.  I cough and wheeze as I feel my body collide with the floor once more.

“Yeah,” Charlie laughs.  “Now he is.”

Footsteps make their way towards me, and when he crouches down next to me, I get the first glimpse at the son of a bitch who’s taken control of this entire situation.   Adrian is older, a few years past middle aged and has the gray in his hair to show it.  He’s clean cut, closely shaven with his hair slicked back.  He’s rich, all about business, and doesn’t take any shit.  He pulls out a gun and snickers a little as he pops out the barrel and spins it a couple of times in front of my face.  “So, I heard you decided to be a little bold yesterday.”

Yesterday? Fuck, how long did I pass out for?  I stare up at him but I don’t answer, because I’m too fucking scared.

“That wasn’t smart, Justin,” he says to me quietly.  “I hope you know that, and taking our pretty little Sam with you...well, I just don’t know what to say.  I think some pay back is in order here, don’t you?”

“What do you want?” I grit my teeth as I say the words to him, trying my best not to flip out, because that gun in his hand is scaring the shit out of me.  “Just tell me how much, and I’ll give it to you. Please...just let me go.”

He laughs at me and it rattles me to the core.  It’s filled with pure evil, as if he has no intentions of letting me go at all.  “I have an idea.  I’ll call and you make up a number and tell your sweet mommy how much more you need her to get.  How’s that sound?  If I don’t like it, I’ll just have my friend here kick you in the junk.”

“Can’t you just tell me how much?” I groan as I watch him dial.

“Make sure it’s up there,” he chuckles as he presses the phone and his gun to my head at the same time.  “You’re a smart kid.  You nearly figured your way out of here, right?”

I just nod, and wait for the inevitable to happen.

“Hello.”

It’s my mom.  I guess that Trace has decided to step aside for now, but I’m not sure who’s decision that was.  I wonder if it was Alex’s? I wonder if he’s there right now in my house with my dogs and my friends and my family.  I wonder if he’s told them that I’m doing okay, just to give them some hope.  I pray to God that I’m right.  “Mom.” I whisper.  

“Justin...”

“Mom they...they want more.”

“What?”

“Fifty more,” I say, looking up at Adrian and praying that it’s enough.  “Fifty million.  I...I love you...”

“Justin we’re getting you out of there, do you hear me? Tomorrow, tomorrow...”

I receive a pat on the back as the phone is pulled away from my ear, and I’m silenced by Adrian’s hand over my mouth as he begins to speak into the mouthpiece again.  “I warn you, Mrs. Harless, I’m not one to fuck around.  Tell those goons of yours that I want my money the way we determined it the other day, or else you’re going to get Justin here sent back to you in bits and pieces.”

He hangs up and snickers as he takes his hand away from my mouth.  I feel the rage begin to boil inside of me, hearing him talk to my mom that way literally making me want to kill him.  “You mother fucker,” I sneer.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s a sick world and I’m entitled to what I want if it I can get it,” he informs me.  “Now go be a good kid, and maybe we won’t have to hurt you as much, huh?”  He looks at Charlie and nods to him.  “Get him out of here.”

Charlie begins to unlock my foot from the chain attaching it to the table, and I look back at Adrian as he walks away, knowing that it’s stupid but figuring that maybe..maybe since I did a good job on the phone that he’ll cut me a little slack.  “Let me see Sam,” I call out to him.  “Please.”

I’m punched in the gut by Charlie and it literally knocks the wind out of me.  I cough and roll over on my side again, trying to catch my breath.

“Stupid asshole,” he grunts at me.  “What a stupid thing to say.”

“Relax.” I hear Adrian say, and when I open my eyes again, he’s standing over me, his hand placed on Charlie’s shoulder so he won’t kick me again.  “If that’s what he wants, then just put him in there with her.  They’re not going anywhere.”

“But, boss...”

“Do it,” he sneers.  “Kids going to be dead in a day or two, so why do you care?  Let him have his cheap thrill for the time being.”

I shudder and close my eyes, the reality of my future hitting me dead on, telling me that I really...I really don’t have a chance now.  

I’m yanked to my feet moments later, and pushed down another hallway.  Charlie is spitting shit in my ear the entire time about how much of a fucking asshole I am, and he’ll be glad when I’m dead.  That he’s planning it all, and it’s not going to be quick or painless.  I try to ignore it.  I try to just think of Sam, think about if she’s going to be happy to see me.  

He opens a door and throws me inside the room.  Sam is passed out on the floor, her hands cuffed behind her back, and all I can think about is how it’s my fault.  My fault for convincing her it was safe to run.  My fault for not thinking of a better plan.  

I have a feeling that I’m not going to be the only one that’s shot dead in the end of this.

Charlie makes sure to cuff my hands behind me before he leaves, not hesitating to remind me not to give Sam anymore ideas, or else.  I send him a mental fuck you as he slams the door and locks us in.  Then...my attention immediately goes to Sam.  Her face has fresh bruises, and she looks like she’s been through a lot in the time that she’s been “away”.  “Sam.” I say, inching myself closer to her so I can try and nudge her awake.  “Sam...it’s me.”

She doesn’t wake, doesn’t stir, and I start to wonder if she’s been drugged.  “Sam,” I say louder this time.  “Sam!”

Her eyes begin to flutter after a moment, and I know she’s coming around.  Then, she opens them completely, staring back at me with sad, dead eyes.  “Justin,” she says weakly.  “Justin?”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice trembling.  “Sam...I...I’m so sorry.”

She does the best she can to lean against the wall and shift herself upright, her eyes squinting in the brightness of the room.  “How long has it been?” She questions me.

“I...I don’t know.  A day or two,” I nod.  “What...what happened to you?”

She shakes her head.  “Charlie just...he lost it and Adrian said I couldn’t be trusted so they decided this would be best...”  She trails off and gazes into my eyes.  “Did they give you any coke?  Do you have anything?”

I suck in a breath, because I hate what she’s going through.  I can see a spot on the floor where she obviously got sick, and I’m sure she’s going through some kind of withdrawal.  “I don’t,” I whisper.  “Here...slide closer and lean into me.”

“No...” she shakes her head roughly and curls up against the wall.  “I just...I need my drugs.  Please tell them.”

She’s delirious.  This isn’t the Sam I’ve come to know at all, and now more than ever I can tell why Alex thinks the way he does about her.  She’s hopelessly addicted to drugs, and when they get taken away she turns into a nightmare.  It means that the girl I think I know isn’t real at all. It’s just a drugged up version of who she probably used to be and I need to get my head straightened out really quick.  “Sam, look...I know...you’re better than the drugs,” I say, trying to sound reassuring.  “I know what kind of a person you are, and...you’re not a bad one.”

“My brother...you know, he always told me I had my head in the clouds,” she says, smiling up at the ceiling as she says the words to me.  “I never listened to him, and then...then when he went missing, I just got lost in Charlie.  He was right, Justin, you know?  I never paid attention, and now...now I go and fuck up our escape plan.  We’re both gonna die.”

“Samantha.”

Her head snaps to attention, and I know it’s the first time I’ve said her full name.  I mean, she never told me that it was, but I’m assuming it is.

“How do you know that?”

“I figured it out,” I say, with a small chuckle.  “Now, would you please listen to me?”

She starts to sob uncontrollably and I can’t do anything to comfort her because of these fucking handcuffs.  “Sam look, all isn’t lost,” I say, trying to break through to her.  I know I shouldn’t tell her because...because Alex is trusting me to keep my mouth shut, but I just can’t help it.  Sam isn’t how Alex thinks she is at all.  She deserves better, she deserves to live, and I...I need to give her this little bit of hope.  “You know Trevor?”

She suddenly stops crying and looks up at me.  “How do you know about Trevor?”

“I just...he came and talked to me after they caught us and put me back in the house,” I tell her quickly.  “I’m not supposed to tell you this but...but I want to.”

“What?”

“He’s a cop, Sam.”

She gasps.  “What do you mean?”

“A cop.  He’s been doing undercover work and...”

“I need to tell Charlie!” She exclaims.  “Oh my god.  And...and he’ll give me the drugs because he’ll be so happy that I told him.  CHARLIE!!” She screams.  

I barrel into her to keep her from screaming and she struggles underneath my weight.  It’s hard to keep her this way.  I can’t move my hands so I have to use all my body strength and I don’t have much of it left.  “Sam stop it,” I bark at her.  “You want to get us killed? This is the way to do it.”

“But...but he’s a cop,” she cries.  “He’ll take us to jail.”

“No, he’ll take Charlie to jail.   You’re a victim too now Sam.  You’re innocent.”

“I’m not,” she sobs.  “I took you here, I made you suffer. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.”

I roll over onto my back and gasp for air.  She’s not screaming anymore, just sobbing again and I guess that’s okay for now.  Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have told her...but...but I think she’ll keep quiet.  I think she’s terrified right now, and she wants Charlie to forgive her so she thought that telling him about “Trevor” would be a good idea, but I think I’ve talked her down.  That’s a great thing too.  I don’t want to be moved again.  If that happens, they’ll have a harder time finding me, and...I could very well be dead before they could locate us.  “Promise me you’ll keep it a secret, Sam.”

She doesn’t look at me.  “I can’t.”

“You can,” I tell her, determined to get her to listen to me. “Charlie doesn’t care about you.  Look at you.  He hit you, he put you in handcuffs.  You fucking look like me now.  How could he possibly love you?”

“He’s all I have.”  She presses her face into the corner of the wall and sobs into it.  “You know that.”

“You have me,” I tell her, trying to overcome all the bullshit that’s floating through my head so I can be stronger for her right now.  It’s uncanny, ridiculous.  If my mom knew she’d probably find a way to come here and shoot Sam herself.  It’s like...it’s like I’m fucking in love or something.  That’s how I feel.  I don’t even care what happens to me anymore.  Seeing her like this is is telling me how much I have to get her out of here, that she deserves a second chance.  “Sam, you hear that? You have me, okay?  Charlie is a fucking piece of shit, and I’m going to get us out of here.”

“How?” She whimpers.  “Justin...you saw what it’s like outside okay, and they caught us.  They caught us and we aren’t going anywhere.”

“They made me call my mom and ask for more money,” I inform her.  “There’s still time.  We can figure this out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” she says, weaker than ever this time.  She curls up into a ball on the floor in the corner of the room and closes her eyes again.  “I’m sorry, Justin.  I’m sorry I couldn’t fix this.”

“Sam...”

“You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had,” she tells me softly.  “Just remember that.”

My eyes begin to sting with tears and I have to look away from her in case she decides to open her eyes again.  How the fuck did it come to this? One moment it was just Charlie and Sam, in the middle of nowhere, inside a smelly fucking trailer, and now Sam and I are under the control of some evil fucking drug lord.  It’s like some kind of really fucked up dream that I can’t wake myself up from.

And as much as I try to maintain my hope right now, as much as I’m happy that I can at least talk to Sam again, I have the strangest feeling that things are going to be worse in just a few hours.  That my time is running out very rapidly, and Sam’s is too.  Unless a miracle happens...unless Alex fixes things and formulates a plan like he promised that he would, I just don’t know what’s going to happen.

Maybe it will be just like Adrian said.

Maybe I will be dead in a couple of days anyway.

Maybe I should get my cheap thrills in now...fuck Sam, because hell...I love her and we’re not going anywhere.

Yeah.

I love her.

I’ll get these cuffs off and have sex with her right here.

We should get married, go to the islands and get real tan.

Trace could come.

Rachael too.

I smile.

“Sam.”

“Justin.”

“You know, I wanted to kiss you.”

“I wanted to kiss you too.”

“When we get out of here lets get married and go to the islands.”

“I hear its nice there.”

“We used to go off the coast of the Caimans every summer,” I say, with a crazy little chuckle.  “It’ll be fun to go with you.
r32;“I’ll wear my wedding dress on the beach.”

“Okay.”

“Justin.”

“Yeah, girl?”

“They...oh my god...Justin shut up and look in my pockets.”

“Why?  I thought we were having a good time.”

“Just do it.”

I painstakingly lift myself off the floor and walk over to her, sliding myself down the wall so I can be right next to her.  She wriggles her body closer to my hands when I turn around, and I reach into one of her back pockets with my fingers. Something small and metallic slides against them, and my heart skips a beat.  The key.  The fucking key.  They never took it off her.  “Holy fuck.”r32;

“Shh...just take it out of my pocket.”

Somehow she managed to get her mind off the drugs and remember the key, and I could fucking kiss her again.  I wriggle my fingers around and pry the key out of her pants, and it jingles as it hits the floor.  I quickly retrieve it, and Sam and I work together, back to back, getting each others handcuffs off.

It works.

It fucking works.

I wrap my arms around her and we hold each other for a long time.  “I thought you were gone,” I whisper to her gently.  “I didn’t know what happened to you.”

“I thought they killed you.  Charlie said that they killed you so I just...I broke down and and then I started to feel so sick because I couldn’t have my coke.  Charlie came in to check on me and I just went off on him.  I tried hitting him...I tried to get away again, so he handcuffed me and said that he wasn’t on my side anymore.  Justin what are we going to do?”

“Shh.”  She’s sobbing heavily into me now, and I stroke her hair gently.  How fucked up of him to say that shit to her.  I’ll kill him.

I will.

“I’ll dig a tunnel with the end of my handcuffs and we’ll escape.” I say, knowing it’s a great plan.  “You can help Sam. It won’t take long.”

 She pulls away from me suddenly and looks at me curiously.  “Justin are you okay?”r32;
“Yeah, of course.” I say, picking up the cuffs that lie on the floor and starting to scratch at the hardwood with them.  “Come on, I’m getting us out of here.”

I dig and dig but the floor just won’t come apart.  I feel the tears floating down my face but I don’t know why, because I’m not crying.  I’m not.

“Justin.”

Her hand falls onto my chafed wrist, but I push it away.  “Come on,” I say, half sobbing.  “We’re getting close.”

“Justin look at me.”

I stop finally, my heart racing as I look over at her again.  She’s clearly concerned, although I don’t know why.  I’m fine.  I mean...I’m just trying to help us out of here.  “What?”

She wipes the tears off of my face and presses her forehead to mine.  “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her with a silly smile.  “Come on and help me dig.”

“Justin, please,” she whimpers.  “There’s no way...it’s...we can’t dig through the floor.”

“Why not?”  My bottom lip quivers like a small child's would.  “Why can’t we?”

“You’ve been through so much,” she says quietly as she pulls my face closer to hers.  “I’m so sorry, Justin.”  She shakes her head and sniffles a little bit.  “I’d do anything to take it all back.”

“I want to go home,” I whimper against her, and she pulls me down so I can lay my head against her chest.  “Sam, please let me go home.”

“I’ll think of something,” she tells me, as she rubs my back soothingly.  “Just try to relax, okay? You’re...you’re getting sick I think.”

“Sick, ha.” I giggle at first but it slowly turns into a horrific sounding moan.  Then I’m sobbing into her like a fucking pussy and I can’t make myself stop.  I’ve started to cross that thin line between sanity and emotional mess, and I don’t know if I’m ever coming back from it.  I’m terrified, starting to become a shell of the strong, confident, cocky guy that I’ve always been.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

It was hard...holding a gun to Justin’s head, slapping him when he called out for help and slamming the trunk closed on him again, allowing Charlie to drive on.  If I wasn’t such a coward, I could have taken his cuffs off and sent him running down the road.  There were cars passing by every few seconds, and I know somebody would have found him before Charlie could get out of the car and kill him.  Well, at least...that’s what I keep telling myself.

I guess i’ll tell myself anything to make me feel better about the current situation though.  
None of what’s happened since we left Adrian’s place was part of my plan.  My plan was to trick Charlie into believing I was on his side as a distraction...so Justin could have chance.  But all it did was backfire.  Charlie asked me to cut Justin and so I did...I sliced his arm open, made him bleed...made him suffer even more than he was, and I hate myself for that.  I let Charlie win, and I have no idea why. It’s like...a part of me completely sided with him again as soon as he forgave me.  I can only imagine the things Justin would say to me right now if he could...and I would let him, because I know that I deserve at least that from him.  

If I had my way, I’d give him a gun, and let him shoot me dead right now.

There’s so much blood that I can’t figure out where the bullet hit him, all I know is that he should already be dead, but he’s not.  He’s still lying there, motionless, looking up at us for an answer to all of this.  I wish I had one.  I wish I could tell him why it had to come down to this, why people have to die because Charlie is a maniac.

But I can’t.

The pool of blood underneath Justin glistens as the new morning sun gleams down upon us through the trees above. It’s eerie, surreal.  In a way, it would almost be a beautiful sight to take in, the dark colors of his clothes mixing with the crimson color of the blood, if it wasn’t such a horrible reality.  

I promised I wouldn’t let him die.

He’s a pale, ghostly white, and his breathing is ragged.  Every once in awhile he’ll stop making noise and just lie there, and I’ll think he’s dead, but then he’ll take a long, sickly breath in and out...desperately clinging to his life.  

There’s nothing I can do for him now.  Nothing. We’re miles away from sanctuary, and fuck knows where the cops are.  Justin was right about Trevor, only I was too stupid to listen.  He’s lying over by the tents, shot in the head.  Charlie decided to do it once he realized Justin was getting away.  We saw his figure racing away from the camp through our tent, and Charlie...despite being a little bit drunk, burst out of the tent anyway.  By the time I’d gotten up the courage to follow him, it had been too late.  He had Trevor on his knees, trying to get some kind of explanation out of him.  He kept asking him where the money was, and Trevor...Trevor just laughed, told him to fuck himself.

Then Charlie shot him in the head, and Trevor fell over, instantly dead.

I’d never seen anything like that before today, and I can’t deny that I lost it a little bit more, had to run back  into the tent and snort a couple of lines of coke to make myself numb to what happened.  Trevor...or...if that was even his name...he wasn’t a bad guy.  He always looked out for me, probably because he realized I was a lot different from Adrian and his goons.  I took a half second to think about his family, if he had one...would they find out where his body was? Would they have closure?

But then I thought about Justin, and I realized that I could only focus on one person at a time, and it was too late for Trevor.

I prayed to God that I wouldn’t find Justin when Charlie forced us to go searching the woods for him.  For awhile it seemed like he’d gotten away, and I was so fucking happy.  I told God that if things could just stay that way, I’d take the death penalty, get gang raped in the shower, and have no complaints about it.  Then Charlie had the brilliant idea to split up and look for Justin, he said we’d have a better chance of finding him that way, and since he was already really pissed off, I figured it wasn’t worth it to give him my opinion.  It took about ten minutes before I nearly tripped right over Justin, and I realized that God must hate me...or have a vendetta against Justin.

And I tried to make him run... I did...

But Charlie and his gun were too smart and fast to let Justin escape like that.

I’m crying silently as we stand above his nearly lifeless form, and the sick smile on Charlie’s face as he keeps his gun pointed at our victim is only making the situation worse.  “Charlie...”  I whisper, putting my hand gently on the hand that’s holding the gun.  “Maybe we should just get out of here.”

Charlie lets out a crazy laugh and shrugs me off of him.  “Don’t you get it, Sam?”

I just stare at him.

“He needs to be finished off before we can do that.  We can’t have a witness.”

I shake my head.  “He’s dead as it is, baby.”

He turns his gaze to me, and lowers the gun slightly.  I’m sure he figures he can.  Justin can’t get up, can’t run.  The most he can seem to do is wheeze and stare at me...

Stare at me like he’s trying to tell me he knows I tried...

That he loves me...

But he’s just fucking delirious.

Charlie smiles.  “Let’s have some fun,” he says to me once again.  “A little celebration, you know?  I mean, we did it...we’re going to get away with this.”

I shudder as he pulls on my hand and drops his gun into it.  He forces my fingers closed around it, caressing my hand gently with a look of crazed compassion in his eyes. “What are you doing?” I whisper, tearing my gaze from his, knowing damn well what he’s about to ask me to do.

“Finish him.”

I nearly drop the gun, and a small sob escapes me.  “Charlie I...”

“I know you can do this.”

His tone is warm, not threatening, and he comes up behind me, beginning to rub my shoulders so I’ll relax a little more.  I won’t though.  I can’t.  I can’t because I know...I know in the end I’m going to do what Charlie says.  I realize the hold he has on me is more powerful than ever.  That I have to do whatever he says because he’s my only way out of this.

“Sam.”  r32;

Justin says my name, struggling to make it sound harsher than a whisper, and I feel myself crumbling inside.  

“You don’t have to do this,” he continues.  “You’re...y-you’re better...than him....”  

He can’t seem to continue, because of the terrible pain he’s experiencing.  He’s coughing hard now, his eyes closed as he clutches the side of his body that’s been penetrated by the bullet.  He’s trembling so hard...I can almost feel it inside of me.

“C’mon girl,” Charlie hisses in my ear, his hands pressing down onto my shoulders harshly now.  “If you won’t do it, you know I will...and it sure won’t be the easy way.”

I know Charlie isn’t playing around, and the last thing I want is for Justin to have to suffer more.  I mean, if he has to die, I’d rather it be done quickly and painlessly.  So I point the gun at Justin, and once he’s able to open his eyes again, he stares right back at me, but doesn’t look afraid.  No, he looks calm, like he’s accepted it, like he’s ready to die.

I whimper.

r32;“I know you’re scared,” Charlie continues, when I don’t do anything more.  His lips travel down to my neck and kiss it softly.  “I’m not mad at you okay? This is the last step.  You just have to pull the trigger and we’re on our way out of here.”

I want to believe him so badly, but I know better.  Killing Justin isn’t a solution to all of this.  In the end, we’ll be caught, because Charlie is too stupid and greedy to avoid the cops for long, and I’ll be right there with him, too stupid to walk away when I had the chance.  “I can’t,” I croak.

“You have to.”  He shakes me a little.  “You have to do this for us, for everything he tried to make you think.  Don’t you remember that? He tried to turn you against me.  He brainwashed you.  He doesn’t deserve to live, Sam.”

Yeah, that’s a perfect excuse to take his life.

Fuck, what the hell am I supposed to do?

The shrill sounds of helicopter blades penetrate my ear drums suddenly, and I have to look up when I realize that Charlie is doing the same thing.  My heart begins to race.  This happened before...earlier, and Charlie got so paranoid that we were about to be sabotaged by the police that he started to down a bottle of whiskey that he’d packed.   I sat in the tent with him while he did it, knees pulled up to my chest as I watched him drink.  He climbed on top of me after awhile...after the sounds of the helicopter died away and didn’t come back.  He was happy then, so he pushed me down and forced himself on me.  I told him I wasn’t in the mood, but he slapped me, so I had sex with him in the tent, praying to god that Justin was passed out and couldn’t hear what was going on.

I didn’t need a reason to bring him down more.

This time the chopper doesn’t disappear though.  No...because they probably know what happened to Trevor and now they’re out to stop us before we can kill our hostage.  I look back down at Justin again, and find that he’s passed out cold for the moment, at least...I hope that’s what he is...

Oh God.

“Justin,” I croak out.  “Justin.”

Charlie kicks him a little, but doesn’t take his focus off the helicopter circling above us.  It keeps going up and back, up and back, round and round.  It wants us to know that it has us in sight...that we aren’t going anywhere.

“Fuck...don’t you die now.  I’m going to enjoy this moment.”  Charlie crouches down and shakes Justin roughly.  He moans, his eyes open a crack and he glances at Charlie.

He’s still alive.

I nearly smile at the realization that he still has a chance, but the feeling is short lived.  Charlie has crouched down, forcing Justin to sit upright, supporting him with one hand behind his back and an arm snaked around his neck.  “Let’s do this,” Charlie grunts.  “Come on...we don’t have time for sympathy.”

I’m crying openly now, so hard that my body has begun to shake violently...but still, I manage to raise the gun and keep it pointed at Justin.  He’s staring at me again, his eyes half closed, willing me to just do it this time...to put him out of his misery.  It’s so fucked up.  He’s so close to getting away...the rescue force must only be a mile or so from here, and here I am about to take his chance of getting back to his life away from him.  I’ve hit an all time low.  I’ve never felt so dirty, so criminal.  I belong in jail.

“Samantha,” Charlie seethes.  “Do it.”

I cock the gun, feeling it begin to slip through my sweaty hands as I make it level with Justin’s forehead.  

This is the FBI, step away from your hostage, place your weapon on the ground behind you, and lie face down.  There is no where to go.

The strong, robotic voice is coming from the helicopter, and in my brain the commands seem to make sense to me.  I even start to crouch to the ground to put the gun down.  It must mean that I have a conscience...yeah.

“Don’t listen to them!” Charlie screams.  “What the hell Sam! Get up right now!”

I snap to attention, realizing what I was just about to do.  “Shit...Charlie I...”

“Shoot. Him. Now.”

Justin shudders more aggressively as Charlie tightens his hold on him, and I don’t lower my gun, but I don’t pull the trigger either.  It’s like I’m frozen this way, trying to make a damn decision.  What’s right? What’s the right fucking answer? Either way I’m screwed.  If I don’t listen to Charlie he’ll kill us both, if I do Justin will die and...the police will eventually kill me in the end.  I feel my eyes close tightly.  I’m trying to escape the entire situation.  I guess it’s the only defense my body can willingly perform right now.

“Samantha.”

I hear the voice, but it’s not Charlie’s...or Justin’s.  This one is different, calm, older...nice?  My eyes open, and I look back over my shoulder, nearly fainting when I see them all standing there, crouched down, their slender sniper rifles focused in our direction, but not firing them off.  It’s a SWAT team, complete with protective armor and most likely tear gas.  I’m guessing the only reason they haven’t broken the stuff out yet is because of Justin, and I guess...I guess that’s good. He’s in no condition for that.

“Samantha my name is Bill.”

He’s part of them, but he’s the only one standing, the only one who’s face isn’t shielded by a thick, bulletproof gas mask.  

The negotiator.

I don’t answer him.

“Don’t fucking listen to him,” Charlie calls back to me.

I don’t pay attention.

“Fuck, Sam! Stupid bitch! Look at me when I talk to you!”

I pay attention to Bill instead.  Something inside is telling me that it’s okay to do it, that Charlie can’t control this specific moment of my life, and in that instant, everything seems to melt away.  All the pain, and heartache that Charlie has caused me from the moment I realized the type of person he really was.  Justin, the nightclub, and...and how I feel about him, I forget about that too.  “Hi Bill,” I say, knowing my gun is still pointed at Justin.

“How’s Justin doing over there?”

I look back at Justin, figuring I owe Bill a well informed answer from the front lines.  He’s fighting to stay awake now, slouched against Charlie’s body rather than trying to fight him off.  He’s too weak.  

He’s going to die.

“He’s bleeding,” I whisper, once I look back at Bill.

Bill nods.  “That doesn’t sound very good, Samantha.  What can we do about that?”

I feel myself beginning to quiver again.  “It’s too late to do anything,” I whimper.

“Not if you put the gun down.  Right now.” Bill tells me tenderly.  “How about you do that, nice and slow, and come stand with my friends over here...”

“Fuck...no fucking way.”  Charlie releases Justin from his grasp and gets up, causing him to fall back down to the ground with a pathetic groan.  “She’s staying right where she’s at,” he continues, with an intimidating tone.  “Go back where you came from, or he’s dead.”

The men point their guns at Charlie’s chest, and I look on in horror, my gun still pointed at Justin, the beads of sweat pouring down my face as I wait for Charlie to be murdered before my eyes.  It’s strange...I don’t know how I would feel if he died right now.  Would I be sad? Or would I feel more of a sense of relief that he’d never be able to hurt me again?

The idea of a life without Charlie suddenly seems to fill me with a warmth I haven’t known in years.

“Hold your fire,” Bill says, gently holding a hand up to his men, before focusing on Charlie more intensely.  “Charles...nobody needs to die today.”

“That’s not your decision, is it?” Charlie seethes. “Sam, do it.  Now.”

I don’t move.  I just stare at him, knowing I’m incapable of speaking right now, let alone shooting somebody.

“That’s it!”  Charlie yells at me, outraged, as he begins to storm over to where I’m standing.  “I’ll do it myself! Give me the fucking gun!”

“Stay where you are!” Somebody shouts.

My body twists itself around, and I pull the trigger.  I pull it and it feels so good to feel the metal gliding against my finger as it fires off.  Then Charlie falls, clutching at his bleeding chest and gasping at me in shock on his way down.  I can’t look, I can’t do anything because I’m too busy staring at Justin.  He’s still laying on his side, coughing and rasping for a breath.  He’s not shot dead, I didn’t shoot him.  

He’s alive...for the moment.

I drop the gun and fall to my knees, shaking and crying, apologizing and thanking God over and over again.  Then somebody comes and snatches the gun from the ground, and yanks me to my feet seconds later.  I don’t resist, don’t speak as my arms are yanked behind me, and the handcuffs are clamped around my wrists.  There’s more shouts, screams.  The men that had been crouched down with their guns rush to Charlie’s aid now, beginning to examine him to see how badly wounded he is.

Then there’s Justin.

Bill has taken it up on himself to get Justin sitting upright, and another armored man is shining a light in his eyes and inspecting his bullet wound.  A stretcher is brought in seconds later by two more of the men, Justin is helped onto it, and I see them force an oxygen mask over his face.  He’s clearly passed out again, at least... I hope that’s all it is, but I’m not given the chance to ask anybody if he’s going to be okay.  The man that slapped me in handcuffs is hauling me in the opposite direction.  Away from Charlie and his nightmare.  Away from Justin...

Away from Justin.

“Wait!” I scream at the man.  “Wait just let me say...let me say goodbye to him...”

“You can write your boyfriend a letter from your prison cell,” he grunts at me, then proceeds to ramble off my miranda rights as I’m lead down the same trail that we hauled Justin up all those hours ago.

He thinks I mean Charlie of course, but why wouldn’t he? I mean, really, who would believe that I bonded with my captive?  That we talked, that we share the same sense of humor...that we kissed?  Nobody.

I’m just a crazy criminal to them.

That’s all I’ll ever be now.
**************
The trip to FBI headquarters was long, and mostly silent.  Two agents rode in the front of the car, occasionally whispering to one another, and the man who arrested me rode next to me in the back, staring straight ahead as if I wasn’t even there.  I was stone silent the entire time, my mind swimming with a million questions that I couldn’t answer, and it was frustrating the hell out of me.  Where was Justin? Was he okay? Did he die on the way to the hospital? If he didn’t, was he with his family? Was that Trace guy there, telling him that I’d been arrested and he and the rest of the family had the fullest intention on seeking the death penalty because of what I did?

I didn’t know.  Hell, I didn’t even know if I’d ever see Justin again, but I figured it was probably best for him and everybody in his life if I didn’t.  I was a kidnapper and a criminal, and would only bring him down.

But fuck, I already missed him and I had no clue why.  It shouldn’t have mattered.  I wasn’t somebody who could ever really be a part of his life, after all.  The bond we formed was out of necessity I think.  He needed somebody to help him through the situation...and I was there, ready to seek comfort from somebody...anybody.

“Coffee?”

I keep my gaze focused on my cuffed hands, and nod a little.  I can see the smoking cup of coffee slide towards me through the hair that’s in front of my eyes, and I stare at it for a moment, debating if it’s poisoned or not before I decide to take my chances.  I’m so weary, so in need of my drugs right now, that I know the caffeine and sugar has to help me somewhat.  I lift the cup with my cuffed hands, for the first time having a small inkling of what Justin went through for seven days.

I lost count, but they told me it had been seven days since we had taken Justin from that club.

I feel like a dirty animal for putting him through it, and like an idiot for not being able to keep track of the time for him.

The hot liquid gives me a renewed sense of energy, and I find myself sipping it down to the last drop before I put the cup down and shake the hair out of my eyes.  The first person I see is Bill, sitting across the table from me, the tips of his fingers pressed together in a triangular shape.  He’s patiently waiting for me, like he has all the time in the world.  I don’t get why he’s being so hospitable, after what I’ve done to Justin.  

“Better?” He smiles slightly.

I just shrug.  “For now,” I say softly, knowing that sooner or later my cocaine craving is going to kick in full swing, and if the feeling is anything like it was when Charlie locked me in that room at Adrian’s, I know I’m going to completely lose myself.  This is jail.  There are no drugs here.  I’m going to crack and get transferred into the psych ward.

“They tell me that Charles will make it,” he nods, as if he’s doing me some kind of small favor.

“Oh...” I trail off and look down at the shiny metal cuffs again.  It occurs to me that I was hoping he wouldn’t tell me that.  That he would tell me that the gunshot wound to his chest was fatal, that he wouldn’t live through the night...

That my nightmare was really over.

“If he does make the full recovery they tell me he will,” Bill continues.  “I’m sure he’s going to do everything in his power to turn this around on you, so he can save himself some jail time.”

My mind screams no he won’t, he loves me, but the practical side of me knows that’s not true.  Charlie isn’t one for jail, says he’s been there before and he’s not going back, and hell...who could blame him?  “I want the maximum sentence,” I hear myself say, and immediately bite down on my lip, knowing how stupid I must sound.  It’s how I feel though.  It really is.

“Life without parole?”  Bill chuckles.  “That’s what you want?”

“I deserve it,” I mutter.

“Be that as it may, I don’t think you initiated this whole operation.  I think you were just going along with what your boyfriend wanted you to do, and if I tell the DA that, you might be able to get a lighter sentence...possibly parole in twenty years, if you cooperate.”

He has salt and pepper hair, that used to be dark black, and the finest wrinkles are beginning to form around his eyes and mouth, but I can tell when he was in his prime, he was a really handsome guy.  I eye the wedding band on his finger.  I bet he has kids, and I bet none of them were dumb enough to get involved with a guy like Charlie.  It occurs to me that I wish I could speak to my parents right now, to ask them what I should do, but I seriously doubt they are going to want anything to do with me once they realize what I’ve done.  “Cooperate?” It’s all I can get out.

“Can you tell me what happened, Samantha? Can you tell me what Charlie did? Can you tell me how Adrian Pollano was involved in this?”

“I...”  I pause and sigh.  Too many questions.  “I...I guess so.”

He pulls a little recording device out of his pocket and sets it on the table.  “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Can I just ask a question first?” I whisper, before he can begin to record our conversation.

He sits back and smiles a little bit.  “Sure.”

“Will...will Justin make it?”

He studies me curiously for a few moments, before his expression sours just slightly.  “He’s critical.  It’s up in the air.  That’s why I need your information now...in case he doesn’t make it.”

I cover my mouth with my hands and shake my head a little.  Oh God.  

“Samantha?”

“I promised him I wouldn’t let him die,” I whimper into my hands.

Bill sighs, and I see him grab the recording device off the table before the tears flood my eyes.  “Maybe this isn’t the right time to do this then,” he tells me.

I don’t answer him.  I can’t.  I’m too busy crying into my hands now, the only thought on my mind being that Justin still isn’t safe.  He got away...he got help and yet, he still might not make it.

It’s not fucking fair.

“How about tomorrow? We can try again then,” Bill offers.

I can’t even answer him.  Soon I hear the door open, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.  A pair of rough hands grab me and force me up from the chair as Bill bids me goodbye and says somebody will fill me in if ‘things don’t work out’.  Meaning, if Justin dies in the hospital.  I feel like throwing up, but I don’t want to mess up this nicely polished floor, so I just walk as the man guides me back down to a holding cell.  He removes my handcuffs and gives me a gentle push inside.  Then the cold metal bars slide closed in front of me, and the only thing I have to do right now is sit down on the cot in the corner and think about everything that’s happened.

And everything that’s going to happen from here on out.

I sleep forever.  My dreams can only be described as intense.  I see Charlie’s angry face, screaming at me to shoot Justin.  Justin’s weak voice sounds off in the background...telling me I’m better than that.  That he loves me.  And I tell him that I love him, and I try to reach for the hand he’s holding out for me to take.  He’ll take me away, he tells me.  He’ll keep me safe...

r32;“Wake up.”

The voice isn’t menacing, but it isn’t very pleasant either.  I jolt awake when I feel somebody shaking me out of my slumber, and my eyes feel wet and runny.  I wipe at them, and realize I’ve been crying in my sleep, before I look up at whoever it is that’s disturbed me.  

It’s a woman this time.  Her hair is blonde and pulled up into a tight bun, and by the looks of her grey uniform, I know she can’t be more than a correctional officer hired to work the holding cells here.  She’s also staring me down like I’m the scum of the earth...not that I can blame her of course.  I push myself up to a sitting position and lean my back against the wall, waiting for her to continue on with whatever she’s here to tell me, or do.  “Is it morning?”

“Almost,” she grunts.  “Come on, you need a shower and a change of clothes.”

“What about Justin?” I ask her, not quite looking her in the eyes.

“Just come on,” she snaps, with a roll of her eyes.

It occurs to me that she doesn’t care if I’ve been left in the dark, nobody does.  That’s what happens when you’re a criminal, at least until you get a lawyer.  It occurs to me that I haven’t even asked for one.  I probably should I guess.  I mean...they can help, right? Help me to keep quiet when I’m being asked the wrong questions.  I should ask Bill, when I see him.  “Can I see Bill soon?”  I ask her as she leads me out of the cell and slaps the cuffs on my wrists.

“You have a visitor first,” she snorts, and pushes me forward.

A visitor? Who the hell is coming to visit me? I mean, fuck...could it be my parents? I seriously doubt it.  But if not them, then who?

My mind fills with even more questions as I take my shower.  I don’t even get to every body part, which is pretty disgusting considering, but I just dont’ have the time to care.  I have to focus on the more important things.  My visitor...if Justin is alive or not...if Charlie is going to condemn me to the high heavens, turn this whole thing around on me.  The water wakes me a up a little, makes me realize that I shouldn’t be going down without a fight.  Charlie is a fighter, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.  Bill was right, he probably will do what he has to...sell me out if that means he’ll be out of jail faster.

I owe it to Justin not to let Charlie get his way after everything he put him through.

I’m shaking when I come out of the shower, and I can’t seem to stop even when I wrap myself in the generously fluffy towel I’ve been provided with.  It’s the shakes...the beginning of a withdrawal, and I know...I know things are going to get bad very soon.  I change into the clothes provided for me, a bright orange jump suit...prison attire...

I feel right at home now.

Tamara, as the woman has instructed me to call her once I ask for her name, cuffs me again once I let her know I’m ready to come out of the little locked bathroom, and leads me back to where I was before I fell asleep...the interrogation room I guess I can call it.  Bill steps out of a side hallway just as Tamara knocks on the door, and grips me by the upper arm, assuring her he can take it from here.

“Good morning, Samantha.”

He has that little smile again, but I don’t return it.  “Morning,” I rasp.

“it was a rough night, but Justin will make a full recovery.”

I gasp, nearly fall to my knees but stop myself.  “Thank...thank you,” I tell him, the tears escaping my eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and opens the door.  I start to cry harder when I see who’s sitting at that table.  I don’t know what to think, except that I’m dreaming...that it can’t be true.

“Sammy...Jesus.”  Craig stands up and rushes over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a long awaited hug.  

I can’t believe it and I start to sob uncontrollably into my brother’s chest as the realization hits me that he’s back...he’s not dead, he’s not missing anymore.  How? I don’t know, and right now...I don’t have the strength to ask him.  All I know is that he’s here, and he’s not leaving.  I have somebody to lean on through this aftermath, regardless of what happens to me.

As I look over Craig’s broad shoulder I see Bill staring back at me, his smile a little wider than it was before, and I know I would do anything for this man at the moment for bringing my brother back to me.  That includes giving him the confession he wants to hear...the one that will put Charlie away where he can’t hurt anybody else ever again.

it's why Bill did this.

He wants to give me something to live for.

it's more than Charlie has ever done for me.

Everything is whirring, whooshing, and beeping in the far corners of my mind.  I don’t want to wake up due to the sounds because that will mean I’ll have to face my situation again.  I’ll wake up and be with Charlie and his gun again, and I don’t want that.  I was having too much fun dreaming about Sam during one of her good moments away from him...her smile and her laugh...

But now the beeping is getting so loud, I just can’t take it anymore.

My eyes flutter open, then slam shut again.  I realize how hard my head is pounding, too hard for me to even focus on where I might be, and I try so fucking hard to get it together.  I have to be ready to fight again, because I know Alex is dead...and I’m all alone.

I try again.

My eyes open a little bit easier this time, but the surroundings are new.  It’s all white, everywhere I look...so fucking bright.  And there are machines, lots of machines and tubes, causing the whirring, whooshing and beeping.  I try to open my mouth to say something, to ask if there is somebody around who can help me, but I find that there is something preventing me from doing that.  It’s like...I can move my mouth but there is something in the way of letting the sound out.  I struggle to sit up, but it hurts...everything hurts...

Shoot. Him.  Now.

I hear the voice loud and clear, and in that instant, the painful memories of what happened just before I passed out come rushing back to me.  Charlie and his choke hold on me, the blood pouring out of me, and Sam...Sam and her gun.

Where the hell is she now?

My eyes scan the room frantically for her...but she’s not here.  In fact, nobody is.  Nobody is here and I’m alone.  I start to break down, freak out.  Try to call out for help through this thing covering part of my face.  

Help doesn’t come...

At least not right away.

Then a door opens, voices come in urgent tones, shouting for people to hurry, that “he’s awake”.  Christ, how long was I out for? How long has it been since....everything?  I try to remember, but I find the thoughts quickly slipping away from me when I see somebody familiar standing in the doorway.  She’s smiling and crying at the same time as she rushes over to me.

Momma.

“Oh Jesus.”
 
She’s here.  How?  Damn, I’m so fucking confused right now...

“Baby...” she trails off, and I know she’s trying to get her crying under control for me.  I think I manage to smile, even though my lips are completely numb right now.  That’s momma at her best.  My strong momma, and I know this is real now...it’s not like before, when she was only far away in my dreams.  Her hand is touching my face, caressing it gently, and she kisses my forehead.  It helps me to calm down, slowly.  I wish I could ask her about a thousand questions, but all I can seem to do right now is stare at her and smile like some doped up idiot.

“You just rest now.  Everything is okay....everything will be fine, baby.”  

I nod at her.

A nurse brings a comfortable looking chair into the room a few minutes later and momma sits down in it, taking my hand in hers and pressing her lips against it.  I look down and realize there’s about five tubes plugged into my arm.  Shit, what the hell happened to me?  A doctor comes in minutes later, removes the thing covering my face, which I realize is an oxygen mask.  Then he shines a light in my eyes before nodding positively at my mom and telling her that I should be able to talk to her in a while...that the effects of the sedative are wearing off.

And I’d like to ask him some questions, I really would.  I’d like some answers now rather than later.

But I pass out again.
************
“Hey boy.”

I smile as Buckley rests his head on top of my leg, savoring the moment as I give him a good scratch on the top of his head and behind his ears. It’s his favorite thing.  Brennan...she likes the tummy rub more, but Rachael decided to take her running so I can’t have the best of both worlds right now.  I’ve missed this simple moment, maybe even more than Buckley has.  They don’t allow you to have animals come visit at the hospital.  They said too many outside germs can be brought in, which fucking blew, because I was stuck there for almost a month before they let me come home for bed rest.  My dogs freaked out the second I came through the door, but still, Rachael had to hold them back with the leash so they wouldn’t jump on me and tear my stitches open.  It took days for them to calm down, and for my mom to stop being so paranoid about them hurting me any worse than I was.  Then finally, after about a week, they were allowed to lay in the bed with me, one of them on either side of my body, refusing to go away.  It’s the strangest thing, I think they could tell I’d been through some serious shit.  They were so protective those first couple of weeks.  If somebody came into my house that they didn’t recognize they’d spring to their feet, get real stiff, and even growl a little.  I love them.  Besides my alarm system, and Eric, they’re probably the only other thing that can make me feel completely safe inside my own house these days.

My injuries included multiple contusions to my face and body, two broken ribs, an infected cut on my arm, and a severe gunshot wound, not to mention a killer case of bronchitis.  The bullet had penetrated my body in such a way, that it nearly hit a part of my spinal cord.  A quarter of an inch more and I would be paralyzed right now.  That’s what the doctors told me anyway.  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just lied there and stared at the ceiling.  They told me I was lucky but I didn’t feel that way.  Seven days.  I was in that fucking hell for seven days.  I saw things and felt things that nobody should ever have to, and I did it alone.  I guess I was supposed to feel vindicated because I survived, but the more I tried to the more horrible I felt inside.

So I just stopped caring.

Alexander Samuels had been an undercover narcotics agent with the FBI for almost ten years.  Busting Adrian’s drug ring had been an ongoing project of his for almost six years, and once he brought the son of a bitch to jail, he was supposed to be promoted...get a nice cushy desk job so he could be around more for his wife and son.

But he never got that chance.

I feel responsible even though they tell me there was nothing I could have done.  But the reality is, if I hadn’t gone chasing after Samantha that night, maybe I never would have been taken.  Maybe then Alex would have had more time to finish his work and bring Adrian into custody.  Nothing would have happened.  His young son would still have his father and his wife wouldn’t be the emotional mess I know she is.  

The FBI brought them by to see me.  She wanted to shake my hand and ask me how her husband died.  It was the first time I really allowed myself to talk about that night in the forest, and how brave Alex was.  I was glad to do it for the right reasons.  Tessa is a really sweet lady, and her son, Alex Junior, is a good kid.  I almost want to help them out somehow.  Maybe if I do, I’ll feel a little less guilty about getting her husband killed simply so I could escape.  It was a horrible way for him to go, being shot in the head like that with no way to defend himself.

There’s a special place in hell for Charlie.

The first few days of my recovery went pretty much the same.  I’d be awake one second, then passed out the next.  When I was awake, I was usually in such a daze because of all the shit I was doped up on that I could barely focus on whoever else was in the room with me.  I didn’t hold my first real conversation with somebody until nearly a week later, and although I love my mom, and the fact that she still to this day doesn’t like to leave my side for more than five minutes, I’m really really glad the first person I was able to talk to was Trace.

“You gonna make it buddy?”  He sat down in my mom’s chair.  She’d been persuaded to take a breather from my bedside, thanks to a helpful nurse that Trace had been pouring his heart and soul out to in the hallway.  I came to learn through casual small talk with her when she would bring me some water and Jell-O in the mornings how distraught my best friend really was in the moments he couldn’t talk to me, and how good of a job he was doing at hiding it.  

Trace had always been like that though.  Always serious when it came to business, always professional around me when he needed to be.  I was always the nutcase, usually paranoid about how a single would do or if I would put on a shitty performance at an awards show.  He’d always be there to give me a boost or to tell me to suck it up and quit acting like a pussy.  He never showed that other side to me...the weaker side.  The side that could be afraid, and I guess...I guess I never had an interest in seeing that side of him either.  Our whole lives, he was always the strong one with the level head, and I was the basket case.  I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“I think so,” I’d told him weakly as he lightly slapped my hand that I held out for him.  “As soon as I can get up out of this bed again, anyway.”

He just nodded, looked into the other direction for a few minutes, before turning back to me.  “Justin I’m...I’m sorry I told you to go after her.”

He meant Sam, and I guess I should have figured he would blame himself, but I didn’t want him to.  Nothing that happened could have been prevented, and I wanted him to know that.  “You didn’t make me follow her, and you didn’t make me tell Eric and Tiny to stay away from the club that night,” I explained to him.  “The whole fucking thing happened because I was too ignorant to protect myself.  After all this time, I should have known better.”

He just shrugged.  

“I’ll beat your ass.” I tried to smile, but ending up in a fit of coughing instead.  He stared at me while I was doing it, as if he was so helpless...like he didn’t know what to do for me.  “Trace,” I continued, when I was able to.  “I’ll be okay.”

He shook his head.  “Your coping skills are amazing.”

They really are.  I couldn’t deny him that, and I still can’t to this day.  I mean, I have my moments, usually when I’m in an unfamiliar place I’ll get really tense, really quiet, and usually somebody will know better and help me to snap out of it.  But if I’m alone sometimes I’ll back myself into a corner and just...shrink up, cry.  Other than that I’ve gotten pretty good at pushing most of what happened completely out of my mind.  My mom and the rest of them really want me to go see a psychiatrist, but I disagree.  I hate that kind of shit.  I’m too private for it, and so...I just cope.

I cope everyday.

But I still...I still think about her.

All the time.

My mom has been really strong through this whole thing, never letting me get down on myself too much when she’s around.  She’s tried to keep her dignity as much as possible, not allowing me to talk to anybody in the press or in the business besides Johnny and the people immediately involved with my career.  She told me US Magazine and all the other vultures were dying to get a piece of the story, and she wouldn’t allow it to become a media spectacle.  I know she didn’t want me to think about what I’d been through, which was good, because I didn’t want to dwell on it all then.  I was still having nightmares in the hospital during the night when nobody was there.  I would wake up calling out for Sam, and then the nurses would come and sedate me with something.  That freaked me out too.  I would think that Charlie told them to do it, and after a while I started to fight against their needles.  The information was passed on to my family, and it took a few days of gentle coaxing from Trace, Rachael and my mom before I would finally admit that I’d constantly been drugged while I was kidnapped, and I was terrified of the nurses when they came in the night with their syringes.  My family put a stop to that.  I took sleeping pills from then on, and my mom made it a point to be there nightly, just so everything ran smoothly.  I felt like a five year old, but knew there was no chance in talking her out of it.

Bill is the agent who ran the task force that saved my life.  I’ve never taken the time to get to know his last name, and in fact, I don’t really care what it is.  He started coming to visit me a few days after I’d been taken out of intensive care.  Since my entire family was there for the initial first meeting, I forced a smile and acted grateful to him for all of his hard work on the outside.  On the inside though...I was screaming.

Screaming because I knew he was the one person who probably knew what happened to Sam and where she was currently being held.  

It took two weeks to get him completely alone with me in the hospital.  My family and friends were constantly around when he visited, questioning him as he questioned me about what happened.  The last thing I wanted was have them hear all the gory details about my kidnapping, but they simply refused to leave.  Bill tried to reassure me, tell me it was okay that they knew and I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable talking about it.  Yeah, that was really easy for him to say.  I had to hold so much shit back about Sam, which I knew could effect her charges.  It’s sick, really.  Part of me wanted to fight so hard to keep her out of jail.  It made no sense.  She was just as much a part of my captivity as Charlie was, but still, something inside of me was forcing me to think back...remember how I felt about her...

How we kissed, and how she tried to help me the only way she knew how.

“Hey kid,” Bill smiled as he knocked on the side of my open doorway.  “You up to talking?”

“Hey,” I forced a smile and sat up in the bed, turning down the volume on the television as he took my moms usual place at my bedside.  “Yeah, absolutely.”

My mom, Dad, Trace and Rachael had been forced away from my bedside for a long weekend with Trace’s mom and sister.  They’d flown up from Memphis that week, determined to get them away for some much needed R&R.  I couldn’t have been happier the moment they were gone.  I loved them, yeah, but I hadn’t been able to get a moments peace since I’d woken up.  At times, I felt like I was the one entertaining them, when all I really wanted to do was curl up and crawl back inside myself where I didn’t have to remember anything anymore.  Naturally, Bills sudden presence prevented me from doing that, but it slowly began to dawn on me that I was now alone with him...

That I could talk to him about anything I wanted.

“I heard your family went on a little Justin free retreat this weekend,” he chuckled.  “I’m not sure who’s going to benefit more from it, you or them?”

“It’s terrible,” I laughed lightly.  “But it’s probably gonna be me.”

“I don’t blame you.”  He laughed again and patted my shoulder.  “They’ve been in your face a little bit too much.”

I nodded and licked my bottom lip.  “So...what’s going on?”

“Just wanted to update you on the legal stuff,” he nodded.  “If you’re up to it.”

My eyes widened a little bit.  “What about Charlie?”

“Well he’s been indicted. Kidnapping and murder in the first degree,” Bill explained.  “He’s trying to plead down to a lesser charge...accessory.”

I wouldn’t look at him.  It terrified me that Charlie could possible get less jail time for all the shit he’d done to me...to her.  “Do you think he’ll get his way?”

Bill sighed.  “It’s hard to say.  He’s trying to pin most of this on that girlfriend of his...Samantha Albertson.  It depends on his lawyer, really.”

He was staring at me, and I refused to look at him.  “He did this,” I finally managed to say, although my voice was hoarse and whispery.  “He forced her to do what she did.”

“I know that.”

I slowly looked up at him.  I knew what I had to do.  I had to make things right for Sam, and there was only one solution.  Whether it terrified me or not to see Charlie DeRoy again, wasn’t the issue.  “I want to testify,” I whispered.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary.  That’s why I came.  I wanted to let you know that we worked it out, so you wouldn’t have to relive all of that.”

“But without my...”

Bill held his hand up.  “It’s been worked out.  We have another witness who we believe will take any doubt that Charlie isn’t anything more than a cold blooded criminal out of the jury’s mind.”

I knew who it was, but I didn’t want to believe it.

“The DA agreed to cut a deal with Ms. Albertson in exchange for her testimony,” Bill explained.  “It saves her the trouble of going through her own trial, and takes any chance of a life without parole sentence off the table.  Considering everything she helped put you through, I think she’s getting off pretty light.”

I shook my head roughly.  It just...it wasn’t right.  Call me crazy, but Sam didn’t belong in jail.  She just didn’t.  Life had dealt her a crappy hand, and yeah, she made shit choices, but she was a good person.  I wanted to do something.  I had to do something.  “No.” I blurted out.  “Bill, she...she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Thirty to life for nearly getting you killed?” He laughed.  “I think she deserves every hour she spends in that jail cell.”

“She doesn’t!”

I’d screamed it at him, and he stared back at me, seemingly deep in thought as he stroked the light stubble on his chin.  I know I must have sounded like a nutcase, but it was the first time in weeks I’d been able to talk about Sam with anybody.  I felt like I needed to take action, not just sit back and listen to how the feds were going to lock her away for thirty years.

“Justin, you’ve been put through something...something very traumatic,” Bill began softly.  “From speaking with Ms. Albertson...”

“Her name is Samantha,” I gritted.  

He nodded, gently, gazing at me with eyes that told me he knew something was seriously fucked up inside of my head.  “From speaking with Samantha, I know she...she tried to help you. That’s a big part of the reason the DA is showing her some compassion.”

“I care about her,” I croaked.  “She’s not like you’re making her out to be, and she doesn’t deserve to go to prison.”

The room became deathly silent for a while after that.

“Can I ask you something?”

I finally glanced back at him, and shrugged.

“Have you spoken with anybody yet?”

I knew he meant a shrink, and while I hadn’t personally sought out anybody from the outside, my family forced me to talk to the hospital psychiatrist a few times, and I was sure they had one lined up for me as soon as I was able to check out of the hospital.  “They made me talk to some shrink here.”

“Doctor Walker?”

I nodded.

“Well, I spoke with him too, Justin.  When we were trying to determine if you were going to have to testify or not.  At that point we weren’t sure if Samantha was going to accept a deal.”

“Yeah,” I muttered.  “So?”

“Has he told you about any sort of...condition, you may have developed because of what happened?”

“Yeah, they call it being fucking crazy.” I scoffed and rubbed my face with my hands.  “Which I’m...I’m not, you know?”

I was shaking.

It was bad.

“Well, as much as you’d like to believe that, they do have another term for it.  It’s called Stockholm Syndrome.  When a victim begins to...relate, or care for their captor.”

“I don’t have Stockholm anything!” I snapped at him.  “You don’t get it, okay? You don’t know what he did to her!”

“She’s been very open with me,” Bill gently replied.  “I know a lot more about her situation than you might think, and whatever may have been said between the two of you while everything was going on, was nothing more than a drug addict talking to the one person who had no choice but to listen to her problems.”

I just laughed and shook my head.  “That’s a lie.”

“It came from her mouth.”

I looked at him, searching his expression for any sign that he was lying to me.  But Bill’s face was stone cold, and his expression was a regretful one.  He knew it would fuck me up even more, but at the same time, I knew he, along with everybody else, wanted me to move past it.  “She said that?”

“Justin,” he sat up a little bit and stared right into my eyes.  “You can’t go on thinking that you could have possibly formed a relationship with this woman.”

I leaned back into my pillows, completely at a loss for words.  I didn’t think Sam could ever...say that.  That the bond we formed meant nothing to her.  But I knew Bill.  I’d gotten to know him very well over those few weeks in the hospital.  He wouldn’t lie to me.  

I sobbed.

“Your family is going to get you some help,” he told me softly as he rubbed my shoulder a little.  “You’re going to be okay.”

“I...I thought I loved her,” I moaned.  “I think I still do.”

He was silent for a very long time.  “I know.”  He rose up from the chair then, sighed a little, before plastering a fake smile on his face for me.  “I’ll let you know how the trial goes.  In the meant time just...work on getting yourself better so you can go home.”

I nodded, but didn’t say goodbye.  

I spent three more weeks in the hospital, being rehabilitated from my gunshot wound by a few world class physical therapists.  By the end of that third week I was finally out of that bed and on my feet, walking with the guide of a cane, and only then did the doctor tell me that it was okay for me to continue my rehabilitation from home.  I was thankful.  I think most of the reason I was so out of my mind was because I was cooped up in that room, confined to a bed for more than a month.  I was sure when I got home I would forget all about Sam, and about my “Syndrome”.  I looked forward to playing with my dogs, hanging out with my friends, and getting back to work as quickly as possible.

But going home was harder than I thought it would be.

“Hey!” Rachael smiles as she runs up the steps with Brennan hot on her heels.  “I got you the mail.”  She throws it on my lap, while Brennan proceeds to roll on her back so I can rub her belly.  I smile, forgetting about the mail and my cousin all at once as I focus on my hairy companion.  

“So...Trace and I were going to go for dinner tonight,” Rachael continues on.  “We thought you might want to come.”

I’ve been home for a month.  In that month, I’ve only gone out of my house twice.  Once for a meeting when my mom was in town, and again when Trace tried to get me out of the house to have lunch with him and Marty.  I made it five minutes past my house gate before I started to breathe all weird and cry in the car.  He brought me back and called my doctor, who then told him I probably had a panic attack.  Two days later my mom was back in town with a shrink at my door.  I see him every other day now.  We talk about anything except the kidnapping.  I don’t mind him so much because he’s a Lakers fan.  We talk about that.

He doesn't hesitate to remind me though, that I need to start talking about the other things on my mind, soon.

“I have some work I have to finish up,” I tell her quickly, not taking my focus off of Brennan.  “You guys go and have a good time.”

“Oh okay...well how about tomorrow?  We can do lunch.”

“I um...I think I have a thing.”

“What thing?”

“Just a work related thing.”

“Why can’t you just tell me that you’re scared, Justin?”

She says it with such impatience in her voice, like she’s fed up with me, that she wants me to just do what she says because she wants the old me back in her life.  Well things have changed.  They’ve changed and I...I can’t change them back to the way they were.  “I’m...I’m just...”

“You are,” she whispers.

I finally stop playing with my dog, so I can look up at her.  “I’m trying,” I mutter.  “I’m doing the best that I can.”

“You’re not trying, Justin,” she informs me.  “You’ve been seeing the shrink for weeks, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve barely said a thing about what happened to you.  That’s why he comes to the house, you know? You can talk to him.  That’s his job, to listen to you, since you can’t talk to us about it.”

Her lips are quivering and I know the fact that I can’t sit her down and really talk to her about all this, hurts her more than anything.  While she’s my cousin, she’s really always been one of my best friends.  She knows mostly everything about me, except for the one or two things I’ve done that Trace will take with  him to his grave.  I should be talking to her about this.  I know...she could help me through it.

But I just... I just can’t.

The very thought of...being chained, blindfolded, told I was going to die...I can’t talk about it.  I hear his voice, and I hear her crying...begging him to let me live.  It keeps me up nights, so really, the daytime is my escape from all of that.  Talking about it...with anybody, will only drive me further and further away from reality.  

“I’m sorry, Rach,” I whisper.

She lets out a harsh sigh.  “Me too.  I’m...I’m gonna head out, okay?”

I just nod and she leans down...hugs me so tight.  I can feel her tears hitting my neck, and I feel like a horrible fucking person.

She’s in and out of my house within five minutes, and I find myself standing on my steps, waving to her as she honks and drives away.  The gate parts, and then she disappears back out into the world.

The world that I am no longer a part of.  

I head inside, my dogs right behind me.  Eric waves to me from his place on my couch.  He’s always here.  He never leaves.  My mother has ordered it, and I wouldn’t be able to bare being here alone anyway.  There’s too many sounds that will freak me out, too many ways for somebody to sneak in here and take me away again.

As it is, I’m sleeping in my closet at the moment.  It’s safe in there.  I have a blow up mattress, my iPod, laptop, and some magazines.  It’s a walk in closet....big enough that I’m comfortable and I’m able to put a chair up against the door, so if anybody tries to grab me in the night, they’ll be a little bit delayed.  I keep some pepper spray in a little box right behind me, so I can grab it in a flash.  My dogs sleep in there with me too.

We’re like one big happy family.

“You taking Rachael up on that dinner invitation?” He asks, as he raises the remote to change the station.

I hate that he’s such a good eavesdropper.  “I...I have some stuff to finish up,” I say it as I stare down at my sneakers.

“Chinese tonight then?”

I shrug.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s here.”
I turn, ready to head upstairs to lock myself in the closet until Eric calls my cell to tell me dinner has arrived, but then a buzzing comes, telling me that somebody is at the gate.  I stare at Eric with wide eyes, and my breathing starts to become heavy.  There’s a weight on my chest that I can’t shake...

“Sit.”

He pulls me over to the couch and I sit down, paralyzed, as I feel my dogs sitting at my feet, whimpering because they know how terrified I am.

“Who’s this?” Eric buzzes back through the intercom.

“Um...it’s...it’s Shelly.”

I turn my head to look at him.  Eric is smiling at me, and I see his finger going back to the intercom, probably to tell her to come through.  But I can’t...I can’t see her.  Not like this.  “Eric, no.  Eric!”

“Sure, baby girl.  Come on through.”

He presses a second button.  The one that opens my gate.  

“Why the hell are you letting her in!”

“You need to talk to somebody,” he tells me gruffly.  “And if it isn’t gonna be your momma, or Trace, or Rachael, it sure as hell better be her.  She’s the best thing that ever happened to you man.”  He glares at me and goes back to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’m not ready to talk to her!” I yell at him, my mind racing, terrified of seeing her.  I start to remember every dream I had about her when I was...gone.  How she got me through when I thought I was going to die.

But no.

That was then.

I’m not the same now.

“Man up then,” he mutters.

“You’re so fired, I swear to god,” I grumble.

He just laughs at me and changes the channel again.  “Remember to thank me later, all right?”

I shake my head roughly, ready to just...run away, lock myself in my closet and make Eric explain to her why I can’t see her.

But then there’s a knock at the door.

“Better get that so you don’t look like a fool.  Your momma’d probably kick your ass if she found out you wouldn’t see that girl.”

She would.

It’s the only reason why I drag myself over to the door, dreading who is on the other side.

“Um...”  She says it softly when I finally open the door.  “Hey Justin.”

I rub a hand over my head and down the back of my neck.  I can feel the sweat that’s formed in the short time since she rang my buzzer, and I know how scared I am right now.  Scared because she looks...she looks the same, and smiles the same, and when I get a little closer to her I find that she smells the same too.  It’s Shelly like I remember her, the Shelly I dreamed about.  “Hey.”  I don’t look at her.

“I...I know you’re...you’re probably not in the mood to see me,” she whispers.  “But Trace called and...”

“No...come in,” I nod.  “It’s okay.”

I move aside, and she steps through my doorway.  My dogs start to whimper and wag their tails when she closes the door behind her, and I know they still remember and most likely miss her.  I watch as she crouches down and lets them lick her face and jump on her a little bit.  “I guess they missed you,” I chuckle.

“I guess so,” she laughs.

I see Eric get up from the couch.  He says hi to her, before letting himself outside and shutting the door behind him.  He’s going to the guest house.  It was his intention for me to be alone with her.

This was planned.

I hate Trace.

I invite her out onto my back deck, fix us a tray with iced tea and potato chips, my hands shaking, my mind racing the entire time I’m away from her.  I have no idea what her intentions really are.  If she wants to catch up or if she’s going to try and pry my feelings out me.  If I know my friends, they probably told her exactly what they wanted her to say.  If that’s the case...I wont’ be able to deal with it.

I know this won’t end well.

“So um,” I begin as I walk back out and put the tray down on the table.  “You’ve been okay?”

“Oh...yeah,” she says, snapping her head up in surprise to look at me.  “I’ve been working, you know, doing the PR thing.”

“You get in with a good firm?”

I can’t believe I’m trying this hard to act like I give shit.

I want my closet.

She shrugs.  “Good enough.  Sonya got me in with somebody new.”

I smile at the mention of my publicist and good friend.  I’ve only talked to her once since I got out of the hospital.  I’m a shitty person for that.  “That’s great.”

“Yeah.”  She smiles and drinks her iced tea.

Awkward silence.

“Listen, Shel...I”m...I’m sorry about how things went down...”

She shakes her head roughly.  “Don’t be.”

“Yeah but...”r32;r32;

“If anything it was my fault, you know?” She says it quickly.  “I left you and...I guess you felt compelled to go looking for a good time.”

She blames this on herself.  Jesus.  It’s not her fault.  It has nothing to do with her.  We broke up, and that was it.  “It’s not about you,” I tell her.  

“It is...God...Justin...”  She pauses and sobs for a moment.  “I left you and then the next thing I know, I’m watching some video of you...kidnapped...”

She watched that.  

I feel sick to my stomach.  

I can’t do this.  “I...I can’t do this right now.”  I get up from the chair roughly, and stare down at her.  She’s looking back at me, her eyes wide, knowing she probably wasn’t supposed to bring any of it up.  

“Justin, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  I force a smile.  “I’m...I’m actually right in the middle of a few things and...”

“Please don’t shut me out right now,” she whimpers.  “I don’t know what I was thinking.  It just slipped out...about the video...”

Now I’m going to hurl.  “I’m sorry.  I just...I gotta get back to work.”

The tears glide down her face, and I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet, but I can’t face her.  I can’t talk to her about this now, or ever.  She’s gone, out of my life, no matter how many times I dreamed about her, no matter how much I know I still care for her.  It doesn’t matter, because I’m not ready to face any of it.  

She stands up, wipes her eyes, and looks at me for a very long moment before reaching out and touching my face.  I don't want to let her, but something prevents me from stopping her.  My eyes close.  It feels good, calming, and I wish I could keep this feeling with me forever.

“It was good seeing you.”

I feel her lips brush against my cheek.

And when I open my eyes again, she’s gone.

The first thing I do is throw up my lunch in the bathroom.  The second thing I do is make sure Eric knows to come back into the house, and the third thing I do is head upstairs with my dogs, ushering them inside my walk in closet before I get in it myself.  I barricade myself inside with the desk chair, and inflate my air mattress.  Then I sit down, and take a few deep breaths.  I hadn’t realized I was hyperventilating.  I wrap my arms around my knees, close my eyes, and wait for the feeling to pass.  My dogs are whimpering.  They hate when I’m like this.  

I hate it too.

The letter came a week ago, and I still haven’t been able to open it.

It was mixed up in a pile of junk mail that I’d been carrying over to the trash can, and it would have gotten tossed if it hadn’t suddenly slipped out and fell to the floor.  I tossed what was in my hands first before picking it up, and once I got that far the only reason I bothered to take a closer look at it was because of what was stamped on the back of the envelope:

This letter comes from a correctional institution.

Then:

Central California Women’s Facility.  Chowchilla, CA

I knew it was from her, and I froze.  The truth was, it had been nearly three months since I was abducted, and I had been doing better...a lot better.  I was slowly starting to put it behind me.  I had convinced myself that she was as evil as he was, thanks to giving into some professional help.  At times, I even caught myself in a smile, because I was starting to feel like myself again.  

At times, when I was surrounded by my amazing friends, when I was able to smile, laugh, and remember only the good things in my life, the kidnapping...her...all seemed like a distant memory.  

I’d been in talks with my label and management once the initial shock of what happened started to subside.  They were eager to get me back in the studio so I could start progressing on the album I’d promised them shortly before I was taken, even though I told them I wasn’t sure I was up for it anymore.  But after a few meaningful conversations with Timberland, and my choreographer, Marty, I knew I had to get back in there to start working on the project we’d been so excited about only months before.  

I owed it to myself, and everybody else in my life, to get back on top again, and I knew I could.  I knew I still had the talent, and the drive, to be as successful as I’d always been before Charlie kidnapped me.  I also knew if I was working, I would become so immersed in what I was doing that there would be no time to dwell on what happened.

That was good for me and everybody involved in my life.  Especially...Shelly.  We started seeing more of each other once I started talking to my shrink and getting my head back together, thanks to some careful pushing from my closest friends.  While we’re only at the most basic level of being friendly with each other, I have a feeling it could quickly grow into something more if I put some effort into the relationship.

Right now though, rebuilding that relationship has been put on hold for reasons that only I can understand.

I finally cracked about a month before that letter showed up, started to talk to my shrink a little more, and then...a little bit more.  Before long, I told him everything down to the smallest detail, and he was finally able to start helping me cope with not only the kidnapping and Charlie, but my feelings for Samantha as well.  I was forced to agree that I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, and when the fog was finally lifted from that part of my brain, I couldn’t deny that I’d been brainwashed by her, and it had changed me for the worse.  I was able to breathe a little bit easier after I got myself over that first hurdle, because I was starting to understand what was really wrong with me, and how I could overcome all of it, so I could get my life back.

Of course, none of it would have happened without my friends and family there to give me the extra push I needed to get my ass in gear.  They had a little intervention with me in my living room after Trace had come by the house one day.  I’d been having a melt down in my closet, and of course that was where he found me. At the time, nobody knew I’d been doing that besides Eric, and when my best friend found out about it, he didn’t hesitate to call our parents, and camp out at my house to keep a close eye on me while they all made planes to come out to Los Angeles.  He didn’t let me out of his site, slept on an air mattress in my bedroom to ensure I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my closet anymore.  Rachael came too, took over the downstairs and monitored my actions when Trace had something else to take care of.  I was trapped and being watched, and I hadn’t been so angry in a really long time.

Looking back on it now, I know there was no other alternative.

Trace blocked off access to my closet by installing a double set of heavy duty padlocks and latches on the  outside of the door, and despite how often I tried to get them open, I just couldn’t do it.  That meant I was terrified during the day, and my nightmares were incredible.  I’d wake up screaming, and Trace would sit there with me on the bed as I cried into him like a child.  I couldn’t hide what I was going through anymore, and yeah, I felt more than embarrassed when the sun rose, but he took it in stride.  He told me he would do whatever he had to do to help me, no matter how painstaking or embarrassing it might have been, and I guess I always knew he would.

I was bitter about his methods at first, though.  Really bitter, because I wanted to handle my pain in my own way.  Trace wasn’t having it though.  He told me I was better than that.  That I had a lot of life to live, and I hadn’t come so far simply to be destroyed by a couple of criminals.  He said living in my closet wasn’t helping anything.  It was just giving me a way to avoid my problems, and when my shrink found out about it, he agreed.

I wouldn’t speak to Trace or Rachael after they came and took charge of my life like that, and it was only when the rest of our family finally arrived at my house that I was forced to pay attention to what they were saying, or face being sent away to a place that would force me to cope and talk about what happened with strangers.  I still hadn’t talked to my shrink about it at that point, and my friends and family were fed up with my choices.  I yelled a lot during that meeting.  I told them they didn’t get it, that they couldn’t get it.  That I loved her and she was gone...

That was a mistake, and I think my mother, to this day, is still terrified that those words came out of my mouth.

It was like TV. After my little outburst, my shrink went around the room and had my family and friends tell me how much my uncooperative attitude regarding getting myself some help was hurting them.  I rolled my eyes and wouldn’t look at Rachael, Trace, or my Dad as they spoke about their feelings.  At that point it hadn’t hit me yet.  I was still selfish, I was only thinking about myself, how terrified I still was, and the fact that I would probably never see her again.

But then it was my mom’s turn, and as I sat there, watching her cry so hard as she told me the only thing she wanted was for me to get better, reality started to rear it’s ugly head.  The emotions hit me right in the gut, I could barely breathe and then...

Then I broke down, and cried in front of them all.  It was something I’d held back, deep inside of me, until Trace found me cowering in my closet that day.  I wasn’t allowing myself to heal, and it wasn’t right.  They gave me my options as my mom hugged me and I cried into her.  I could either stay at my house, live my normal lifestyle, and see my shrink cooperatively every afternoon, go to a group home and be forced to take part in group rehabilitation therapy, or be shunned by them all until I decided to change.

My decision, needless to say, wasn’t a difficult one.

Things slowly started to improve after that.  The more I talked to my shrink, the more pressure seemed to be lifted off my shoulders.  After two weeks of intensive therapy with him, I was able to go out to dinner with Trace and a few of our other friends.  Sure, it was just downtown, twenty minutes from the house, but hell...it felt good, it felt normal.  

And I started to forget.  

After that first dinner, my life began to resume the normal social pattern it always had.  I went to the beach with my friends, I went shopping, I started talking to Shelly again, I went to parties at my friends houses, and more importantly, I started working.  I’d been in a dark place for so long, that the creativity seemed to explode out of my pen when I was better and ready to write.  The album is coming along amazing, better than I could have ever hoped for in the beginning.  We wrote the first single in the middle of the night.  Only a couple of people have heard the semi finished product, but we know we have a winner. I was so excited with how everything was going, I started to think that my life was almost back to normal.

Until that letter came.

My birthday was three days away, which meant my friends had been plotting something for weeks, even though I told them I didn’t want a party.  I’d been a little edgy as it was, thinking they were going to drag me to a club and I would be terrified the entire night.  My shrink told me that I needed to face my fear of that, teach myself that there was no harm in going out dancing with my friends.  I just didn’t feel ready though, even though Eric and Tiny would both be there, ready to annihilate anyone would looked even remotely suspicious.  

I was standing in my kitchen, still frozen in place as I stared down at the envelope in my hand, when I heard Trace come up from behind me. It was Super Bowl Sunday, all of my friends were at the house watching the game, and until that moment I had been enjoying myself with them.  I’d only gone into the kitchen to grab another bag of chips, but became frustrated when I realized that pile of junk mail had been sitting on my counter for more than a week, so I decided to toss it.  

And my life changed, again.

“Justin,” he laughed.  “You okay?”

I shoved the unopened letter in my pocket, and turned around, flashing him a brilliant, but fake, smile.  “Yeah, just getting rid of some junk mail.”

“What’s that?”  He chuckled, pointing to the letter I’d shoved into my pocket.

I cursed myself on the inside.  Trace wasn’t stupid.  He’d seen me.  “Letter from Jonathan.”

“That kid still writes snail mail letters?”

I didn’t reply, just walked past him, and when he didn’t push the fact that I was acting strange, I knew I had gotten away with hiding it from him, and everybody else.  Deep down, I knew it was wrong to keep it from them all.  They’d worked hard to help me get better, and there I was, about to take a step backward by reading that letter.  Later that night, after my friends had left, I tried so hard to throw it out, to rip it up, but I just...I couldn’t.

Part of me was curious.

Part of me...part of me wanted to know if she was doing okay.

I hid it in a sock drawer as my birthday festivities commenced that weekend.  My friends had indeed booked a party for me, but at a favorite bar of ours, rather than an elite night club.  It was nice, private.  I was able to spend much needed time with my close circle of friends and family and knew I needed it.  We flew out to Memphis the following week, and celebrated my birthday a second time with my Grandparents, and the rest of my extended family, who seemed pleased with how well I was doing.  

Everything was great.  I even forgot about the letter while I was there, because I was so busy catching up with everybody.

I got home yesterday.

That letter has been calling out to me from the sock drawer since last night.  It’s bad.  Shelly convinced me to go to dinner with her tomorrow night.  We haven’t been alone since the first time she came to my house and I practically kicked her out.  I know this outing is going to be a lot more personal than the ones we’ve been on so far.  We haven’t started to talk about us yet, and I know that the topic will definitely come up.  It’s not a bad thing.  It’s something I need to deal with, but...I didn’t count on her coming back into my life right now.

What do I do?

I pick up my phone, ready to call Trace and ask him.  I almost push “send” before I stop myself.  No.  

No, he can’t know about this.

Nobody can.

My dogs snap to attention and stare at me as I go to the drawer and pull it out.  I sit back down on the bed with it, and run my fingers over the slightly wrinkled edges of the envelope for a few seconds, contemplating what my next move should be.  

I close my eyes, take a long breath, hearing my dogs whimpering softly in the background because they’re confused.

Then I’m tearing the envelope open, fighting off the strong voice inside of me that is begging me not to go through with it.  I pull out the thin piece of paper inside next, grab my reading glasses off the night stand, and slip them on before I start to read.  My eyes seem to take it in all at once, and I have to read the first paragraph a few times before I’m able to really comprehend it.

Justin,

I want you to know that I will always care about you.  In another time and place, if none of this had ever happened, if it had been like you said and I was at that club for pleasure, I know I would have stuck by you, because you made me happier than anybody else in my life ever had.  You were right, that was the real me you saw that night.  The person I wish I could have been for you from the beginning.  But I couldn’t be that person, because of the drugs, and because of everything he did to me.

I also want to apologize.  I know it doesn’t matter.  What’s done is done, and the things you went through...I can’t change that now, but I just wanted you to know that I hate what I let happen, and I’m so glad that you got out, and got back to your life.  

I hope you’re well.  I hope you can sleep at night, and I really hope that you’re enjoying your life.

I’d lie to you about how things are here, but what’s the point?  If you’ve made it this far into the letter, I guess you might care enough to know what’s going on with me.  The truth is, prison doesn’t just suck, it’s completely horrific.  I hope you never have to come to prison, and I hope none of your friends or family ever have to either.  The truth is, everyday is a struggle to stay alive here.  I’ve learned how to cope, fallen in with some people who can offer me protection and supplies for a price, but that price...it’s killing me more and more every day. To think that I’ll have to endure it for 30 years is heart wrenching, and while I know I deserve this type of torture because of what happened to you, I just don’t think I can do it.  I’m not that strong, and I think the only way I’ll be able to be at peace with everything is if I die.

I guess I’m really writing this to say goodbye, or...give you an explanation as to why I want to take my life.  I wanted you to know it’s nothing you did.  You’ve probably been the one person in my life that gave me a sense of hope, even if it was just for a short time.  I’ll always love you for that, Justin.  So do me a favor and make sure you make your life the best it can be.  Don’t live in fear, don’t think about what he did to you.  Put it behind you.

I know you can do it.

I love you always,

Samantha

I place the letter down on the mattress, and let it all seep in for a few moments.  Then I realize there isn’t a question about what I have to do next.  All the therapy, all the support from my friends and family to put her out of my mind, to get over what happened, none of it matters now. I...God, I just know...I still care about Samantha.

Maybe I never stopped caring, not really.  I put my friends and family’s opinions of my emotions first, because they mean everything to me...and I was convinced Sam was gone.

That Bill was right when he said she never really cared.

But she does care.  That letter is all the proof I need, and...and I have to save her.

Save her like she saved me.

I dial so fast, having had the number memorized from the moment he gave me the card.  He told me to call him if I ever need him, even though my case had been closed.

And I need his help now, more than ever.

Because I love her.

“Los Angeles FBI.”

I stare down at the card, realizing I never bothered to learn his last name before this moment.  “I need to speak with Agent Garner.”

He acted like I was crazy the first time I called him about the letter, but of course, being me, I wasn’t going to back down.  I knew too much was at stake, potentially Sam’s life, and I refused to let her die like that...depressed, and completely alone in some prison cell.

She was better than that, and I decided that I was going do whatever it took to save her.  I didn’t consider the consequences, that if my family and friends found out they would be completely freaked out and more than likely angry with me for going against everything they’d helped set into place for me.  In their eyes I was over Sam.  They were convinced I’d learned how evil she really was, and for a long time I had gone with that.

But then that letter came and I just...I guess I snapped.  

I just couldn’t believe that she was evil, or even...a bad person.  My heart was telling me differently, and I went with it.  Something inside supported me, told me that it was the right thing to do.

It was just hell getting Bill to think the same way.

I must have called him every day, ten times a day, begging him to hear me out.  I told him that Sam needed help and he was the only one that could get it for her.    Naturally, he gave me the run around, told me that Sam was fine, that she was being taken care of as well as any other inmate, and that I needed to focus on myself.  He started asking me about my treatment, about how I was handling life at home.

I freaked out on him, though, because I didn’t want to talk about me.

That’s when he started hanging up on me when I would call him, so I decided to fax him the letter Sam wrote me.  When a few days passed, and I still hadn’t heard anything back, I decided to go to extremes and call his house.  A teenage girl answered the phone, and it sort of snapped me back into reality.  Like, oh yeah, Bill had a family and probably didn’t want to deal with my stupid crap when he wasn’t at work.  I feel bad about it now, but then...I felt I didn’t have a choice.

“Can I tell him who’s calling?” The girl asked me.

“It’s Justin.”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“That’d be me.”

“Oh wow...”

I wasn’t in the mood.  Luckily, I think she figured that out pretty quick.

“DADDY!  Justin Timberlake is on the phone!”

I winced a little, knew that the conversation was going to be anything but pleasant.

“Are you calling me at home?”

I laughed pathetically.  “Yeah, I am.”

Bill sighed harshly.  “Justin, do I need to remind you how completely unrealistic you’re being?”

“She needs help.  I know it.  Didn’t you get my fax?”

“She’s a convicted criminal looking for attention, and that’s all it is,” he muttered.  “In fact, I have every intention of filing a restraining order so this won’t happen to you anymore.  Now stop calling me.”

“No! I’m not going to stop calling,” I said, sternly.  “I’ll...I’ll call you all night if I have to.  I’ll camp out in front of your house until you listen to me!  Those people they’re...they’re messing with her!  You have to help her!”

He was silent.  I knew he hadn’t expected it, that he thought I was going to back down.  But I was better, stronger, and he didn’t know that side of me.  He’d only seen the weak one in the hospital bed.

“If I tell you that I’ll go pay her a visit, will that be enough to get you off my case, Justin?”

“You have to get her transferred out of that place.  It’s...terrible.  Just read the letter, and ask her.  She’ll tell you.”

He sighed miserably again.  “Fine.  I’ll look into it, but I’m not promising you anything.  You better back off afterwards, do you understand? I have three new missing persons cases on my desk.  I don’t have time for this.”

“Can you give her a letter for me?”  

I didn’t care that I was crossing the line by asking him, either.

“Christ....just...you better overnight it or its a no go.”

“Bill...I really appreciate it.  More than you know.”

“Don’t call me again about this.”

He hung up on me.  Even though he was trying to pretend he didn’t care about any of it, I knew Bill always had a soft spot for my case, and for Sam.  He fought to get her a shorter prison sentence, made sure Charlie didn’t get away with anything, and that I made a full recovery.  I overnighted him my letter to Sam, with full confidence that she would get it.  I wanted her to know so much in that letter, hoped that when she read it she could feel every emotion inside of me through the words.  A strong part of me knew she would be able to, because for whatever reason, she always understood me, completely.  It was like we were connected...

Meant to be.

Fate had brought us together, in the most fucked up way possible.  Everyday, I try to understand why things had to go down the way they did. Why I had to be put through a horrific experience, why she had to be controlled by that son-of-a-bitch for so long.  I guess I’ll never know the answer, only that we have a chance now.  A chance for friendship...maybe more, but for the moment I’ll just be happy with what I can get.  At least its Sam, whether or not the only way we can communicate is through the prison system.  I know I can tell her anything, and she’ll listen, she’ll get it, because she was there and she knows...she knows how hard it is to cope with a nightmare.

Although, I don’t want that to be the only reason we keep in touch.

After I called Bill at home, a week passed before he finally called me with an update.  As it turns out, Sam was going through some serious shit.  He wouldn’t get into specifics, just that she’d been having a lot of problems with a gang of inmates, and he arranged to get her into another prison when there was an opening.  I was more relieved than ever before, because I knew she was going to be safe from then on, that Bill would make sure of it.  I thanked him, promised him I wouldn’t bug him anymore about Sam.  Instead of telling me to take care though, he sort of sighed and said:

“Justin, I really hope you haven’t opened a can of worms with all of this communication.”

“What do you mean?”

I was playing dumb, but in reality I knew why he was saying that.  I was sure he hadn’t read the letter I wrote to Sam, but at the same time he knew me...knew I would want to talk to her in other ways besides through the mail, and probably knew I put my number in there so she could call me if she felt the need.

He would have been right, too.

“You realize you could destroy a lot of things if you and Samantha form some sort of relationship, don’t you?  Your family and friends would be let down...your career might be effected.  You can’t afford it, not now.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Right,” he said, as if he were on the brink of losing his composure.  “It’s your life, Mr. Timberlake, but you need to remember how much this could affect Samantha’s life as well, especially if you cut off contact with her for any reason.”

I knew he was pissed then.  In all the time we’d known each other, he never called me that before.

“Bill...look...”

“Whether or not you want to admit it, the truth is, she kidnapped you for the sole purpose of getting her hands on your money.  She held you against your will, kept you bound and gagged...blindfolded, even drugged, and when you were shot, she would have finished what Charlie started if we hadn’t found you.  Granted, she was fragile, abused, and hooked on drugs at the time, but the facts are the facts and they’ll never change.  She broke the law, you were her victim, and she doesn’t deserve any compassion from you.  She’s been given enough in exchange for her testimony, and in some peoples eyes, maybe too much.”

“I...I know...”

“I’m done...really.  I’ve done all I can, and my opinion is meaningless now.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you when this blows up in your face, Justin.”

He hung up.

We haven’t spoken since.

I can’t really blame the guy, I guess.  I know...he was just trying to look out for me, keep me safe, because that was his job, but Sam wasn’t a threat to me, and I wasn’t one to her.  We could help each other.  I just knew it, and I was determined to make it work any way I could, no matter what I had to sacrifice, and as I would learn, that included pushing my relationships to the brink.

When Sam didn’t call me right away, I started to think that maybe...she’d been persuaded not to by Bill, or simply decided that it wasn’t a good idea.  I tried to understand, because it was a confusing, awkward idea, and she had a lot to deal with as it was without me adding more stress to her life.  I started to push the idea of her out of my head for a while, and instead I focused on the album...hardcore.  Christ, I lived at that studio.  I also finally went out to that dinner with Shelly.  I had been blowing her off due to the Samantha situation, made excuses that I had to work, or help Trace with something.  She took it in stride.  I knew she thought it was bullshit, but Shelly had learned to be patient with me because of what happened.

It proved that she still had strong feelings for me.

So I figured, what the hell?  I had to keep my mind busy, had to force myself out of the house because once I started to shut myself away, that was when the real trouble in my brain started and I hated remembering.  It was better to shut everything out until I talked to my shrink, and while he didn’t agree with the way I chose to cope between sessions, I didn’t care.  It was good enough for me.

“Hey.”

“H-hey.”

We awkwardly stood outside Katsuya, a favorite Sushi bar of ours, smiling ridiculously, each one of us not knowing what to say to the other.  I was ten minutes late, and when I pulled up and got out of the car, I fully expected her to tear into me about not caring, or whatever.  She didn’t though.  She didn’t seem to mind at all, only seemed to care that I was there, and it made me feel good.

It made me really glad to see her, and I started to remember...

I started to remember us, and how much I missed having her around.

“How’ve you been?”  I smiled, genuinely, before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.  

“I’ve been good.”  She said it in that calm, confident tone she was famous for.  “Hungry?”

I opened the door for us.  “Starving.”

We were seated quickly, and since we always got the same thing, ordered just as fast.  Then it was just us, alone at that little table, and I admit, I had no idea what hell to say to her.

“So,” she smiled, knowing she had to be the one to break the ice.  “I heard the album is coming along.”

“Oh...oh yeah.  It is.  I’ve been living at that studio.”

“Yeah, Rachael’s been telling me about all those coffee runs you make her go on.  Poor girl.”

I just laughed.  “Hey, Trace is busy with William Rast.  You know that.”

“Still, you could call me sometimes, you know.  Maybe I could actually pull you away from your work for an hour or so to see the light of day.”

“I don’t know girl.  There’s not many things that can distract me from the studio.”

She just flashed me a smile.

I knew what that meant.

We were back at my place a couple of hours later, sweaty, naked, and rolling around in my bed.  It was the first physical encounter I had with a woman since my return home, and it was amazing...the sex, her, and waking up with her in my arms too.

“Does this mean we’re back together.”  She said it lazily as I cradled her close to my chest.  

“Do you want to be back together,” I laughed.

I admit, I wasn’t thinking.  I was swept up into her, wasn’t thinking about anything else, and had no idea what the following week would bring.

“Yeah,” she smiled and kissed me gently, before smoothing her hand over my cheek.  “I still love you, J.”

Naturally, Trace, Rachael, and the rest of my friends were ecstatic that I’d taken that step, and when my family found out, especially my mom, I knew they were all convinced that I had made it.  That I was back to my old self again.  For about thirty seconds, I believed that too.  Sure, I still had the occasional nightmare, but Shelly...she was there, she got me through, and I confessed a lot to her during that week.  I told her she got me through some serious shit, that I kept my head held high, stayed positive, because I wanted to come home to her and make things right again.

I’m a bastard...because I spoke too soon and didn’t think of the consequences.  Didn’t think about what would happen if I got that phone call, didn’t realize I would slip right back to the person I was when Sam wrote me that first time around.

I’m still paying for it, just like Bill told me I would be.

But I can’t stop myself from doing what I’m about to do either.

I was at the studio when she called.  I wish I hadn’t been.  Wish I’d been there to answer, because then maybe...I could have prevented all hell from breaking loose.  I guess I must have the worst luck in the world or something, because when I returned home that night to change, Trace and Rachael were both with me.  We were meeting a few people that night for dinner, including Shelly, and I have to admit, I was looking forward to it.

“Jesus, J. Can you please start checking your damn machine!” Rachael hollered it at me as I proceeded to guzzle some milk right from the carton.  “You have four new messages on here!”

Trace and I glanced at each other and laughed, decided to ignore her and start talking about a few business related things instead.  The clothing line was doing well. We’d just released our fall line, and all Trace could seem to do was go on and on about how well it was being accepted in the New York fashion scene.  

Beep....

Hey Justin, It’s Sonya.  I know you’re phone has been shut off because you’re a studio psycho, but could you please return my damn calls? Thanks.

Beep...

Hey Justin! It’s momma. Listen, I’m fixin to come out there in a week or so.  Johnny wants to sit down and talk about a few things.  Just call me when you can.  Love you.

Beep...

Justin! Johnny...hey give me a call so we can set up some kind of lunch or dinner thing all right?   Catch you later.

Beep...

This call is being transferred from a correctional institution. If this is a voice mailbox, the collect charges will be automatically billed to the authorized account holder when the message finishes.  Thank you.

Trace and I were laughing about something, but he automatically stopped when he heard that.  I think my heart stopped, and when I looked over at Rachael, she seemed frozen in place, staring down at the machine in disbelief, like it must have been lying to her.

Then:

“Um...hey Justin...it’s Sam.  Um...I guess I must have missed you.  I got your letter, and it took me like...forever to make this call, so I guess I deserve to talk to the machine.  I won’t get another call until next week.  I wanted to thank you for what you did.  I’m okay now.  Things have gotten a little better, so...maybe I can call you next week or something.  My calls are every Wednesday at three so if you’re home, maybe we can catch each other.  I hope you’re doing well.  Talk to you soon, hopefully.  Bye.

End of messages

“How the fuck...” Rachael trailed off, and then turned to face me.  “What the FUCK Justin?”

I couldn’t even look at her, because I knew how angry she was.  

Trace seemed to be the more logical one, but listening to what he had to say wasn’t much better.

“You wrote her a letter?”

I shrugged.

“Justin, are you fucking...are you out of your fucking mind or something?  The whole...thing with her...was done, remember? That’s why you see Walter every couple of days”

“It’s nothing.  It was just a letter.”

“Just a letter!” Rachael screamed. “How the hell did she get this number then?”

“Justin, come on,” Trace pushed.  “What the hell is going on?”

“I just...” I ran a hand through my hair.  “She wrote me so I...I thought...I just thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to give it to her...”

“You gave her your home number?”  Trace continued.  “Are you...really?  The fucking house number?”r32;

His face had turned bright red, and I knew him well.  I knew it only did that when he was completely enraged at somebody.

I was dead in the water.

“That’s it.”  I heard Rachael pick up the phone.  “Sick fucking psycho bitch...I swear to God...”  She started pounding the numbers on the phone.

I stepped forward, because I knew she was about to report Sam, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. “Stop.”  I pulled the phone away from her and hung it up.  “It’s not a big deal.”

She shoved me.  “Do you hear yourself!”

I raised my hands in the air.  “Rach, just calm down, please, okay?”

“You’re fucked up...still!  She’s still getting to you, even now, from a damn prison cell! Fuck..fuck, Justin!”

She started to sob, and that’s when I felt my heart sink to the lowest point inside of me.  She wasn’t just angry, she was terrified that I was talking to Sam, but she didn’t get it.  She couldn’t, and I knew why.   

“Do you see what you’re doing, Justin?”  Trace made his way over to Rachael and pulled her closer to him as she cried.  “Fucking sick bitch shouldn’t be calling you, and you shouldn’t be writing her fucking letters!”

I hung my head low, and when I looked up again, I was just in time to see Rachael rushing past me.

“Rach...”

She ran out of my house, and slammed the door behind her.

“Happy?”

I looked at him, not knowing what to say, but knew, out of all of my friends, Trace was probably the only one who had any sort of patience to hear my side of things.  “You act like I wanted that to happen.”

I walked into the living room, and heard him follow behind me.  

“It was bound to happen, don’t you think?”

I threw myself down on the sofa.  “I dunno.”

“What was she thanking you for?”

I stared at him, not knowing if I should tell him the truth.  But there was no point lying.  Somehow, I knew he would find out, and then be pissed at me for keeping it from him.  “She was having some problems, that’s all.  I had Bill take care of it.”

He laughed like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “You made Bill drop what he was doing...to help her scheming ass?”

“You don’t know her, Trace.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed.  “Right.”r32;

I just shrugged.  “Well, it’s true.”

“Remember that day you talked to me?”

“Yeah.”

r32;“Well I had the pleasure of talking to her, and I think I figured out what she was all about then, so don’t fucking sit there and act like she should be recused!”

“That...that wasn’t her.  That’s not how...”

“Just shut up, J, all right?  I fucking swear, I know I’m shorter than you but I will pound your ass into the ground right now.  She terrorized this family, along with her boyfriend.  Fuck, it’s like, I want to tell everybody what’s going on, but I feel like if your mom finds out about this she’ll have you committed or something.”

“Don’t worry,” I let out a bitter laugh.  “I’m sure Rachael will call her the first chance she gets.”

“Doubt it.  She’s confused as fuck, she’s not gonna want to spring this on anybody right now either.”

To this day I don’t know what made me say it to him.

Maybe it’s just because he’s...he’s like the only person I’ve done stupid shit with that stood by me.  The only person besides my mom that knows me inside and out, and would take something I told him to the grave.

My brother.

“Trace.”

He collapsed onto the couch.  “I’m not sure if I want to talk to you right now.”

“I want to go see her, Trace.”

He looked at me, his face a pale shade of green, like he was about to be sick.  “What?”

“I...”  I looked down at my lap and pulled at the bottom of my shirt.  “I just want to see her.”

“Fuckin...no, are you nuts?  Yeah, of course you are, what am I saying? You give out your home phone number to psychotic kidnappers...”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

I said it so seriously, and after a couple of minutes, he knew I wasn’t playing around.

“You’re really fucking serious, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well I’m not helping you.”  He rose to his feet.  “No way in hell.”

“Then I’ll do it myself.”

“No...you won’t do that either, asshole.”

“Stop me.”  I glared at him.

“They’re not just going to let you walk in there,” he scoffed.  “It’s a prison.”

I got up from the couch, walked right up to him and smirked.  “People tend to back down for me.  It’s not everyday a famous celebrity waltzes into a prison.”

“You’ve lost your god damn mind.”

“Maybe.”

I walked out on him.  Funnily enough, I went to dinner.  Rachael, of course, was a no show, but after a half hour, Trace showed his face.  I was acting unfazed by the whole thing of course, and our friends were none the wiser, not even Shelly.  I knew Trace wouldn’t say a word.  He never did.  That’s why he was my best friend.

I acted quickly.  I didn’t want to wait until the following Wednesday to hear from Sam again.  I knew it would drive me crazy if I stayed home, shut up in my house, waiting for the phone to ring.  I worked in the studio during the rest of the week, and through the weekend.  When Monday came around I told Timb that I was going to take a couple of days for myself and he seemed relieved.  I knew he was exhausted too, so that meant he wouldn’t ask me any questions.

That was good.

I’d been in contact with a lawyer from New York City.  A good friend of mine passed his number a long to me Friday afternoon.  I told him that I was looking for somebody to handle some business for the line out on the East coast, that I wanted the best that money could buy.  He told me the guy was really good.  Handled a lot of high profile cases, and kept a lot of celebrity clients on his roster.  He said he did a lot of criminal work, but he was also good with contractual stuff too.

That was all I needed.  Somebody who was great with criminal work, that I could trust to get the job done.

I’d long ago convinced myself that I was going to try to get Sam out of jail if I could.

I called him, and when I told him what my plans were, he was quiet for a few moments before asking me if I was sure I wanted to go through with it.  I told him I was, and wasn’t about to play around...that I could find somebody else.

So he agreed to fly out and meet Sam, see what he could do about getting her a new trial.

“Where are you going?”

I was throwing my second overnight bag into the trunk of my car when I heard him behind me.  I cursed myself silently.  Trace wasn’t supposed to interfere on my little road trip.  I told him I would be in the studio non stop, and I didn’t want any distractions.

Only, he was too smart for me.

“Just leave it alone, Trace.”  I slammed my trunk closed.

“So you thought you could just....what? Turn your phone off and expect me to believe that you wouldn’t pull some crazy shit like this? Justin, your mom is going to be here at the end of the week.  What the hell I
are you going to tell her?”

I just shrugged.  “I’m not concerned about that right now.”  I walked around to the drivers side door and opened it, having every intention of getting in and driving away from him.  “I love her.  That’s all that matters.”

For a few moments he looked like he was going to be sick, but then seemed to get himself together again.  “Fuck...look...”  He squeezed himself between me and the open doorway.  “You can’t just...go do this alone.”

“Well I have to.  I’m doing it, Trace.  I stopped caring about what you think, because you’ll never understand.”

He sighed harshly and shook his head.  “Maybe not, but I’m coming with you.  So move.  I’m driving.”

I stared at him for several moments, debating if he was for real.  If he was going to take me where I wanted to go or simply drive me to the FBI office so they could lock me down for a week so I could get my head together or something.  It was something in his eyes though.  Something that told me while he hated what I wanted to do, hated Sam, he cared about me too much to let me go off and see her on my own.

“Fine.”

I got in on the passenger side, and then I turned my cell phone on, to make sure I didn’t have any important messages I needed to get back to right away.  Of course Trace had called me about fifty times, and Shelly had called me about a dozen times as well.  She left me a voicemail, which I listened to.  Naturally, she wasn’t happy that I hadn’t returned her calls and wanted to know what the deal was.

I erased it.

I’m sure when I get back to LA, I won’t have a girlfriend anymore.

But that doesn’t bother me as much as it should.

“I still don't understand why you're doing this."

I sigh heavily.  Trace means well, and I know if the situation were reversed, I'd be just as confused.  But it's not reversed.  "I don't expect you to understand," I speak up softly.  "You didn't have to come."

He glances at me from the corner of his eye as he drives.  "Fuck, Justin.  I wasn't about to let you come up here by yourself, and I know nobody else would have taken you."

"I would have come by myself." 

"Let me get a little hypothetical, J.  Let's say you guys talk, and she starts to tell you that she really does have feelings for you.  How are you gonna know that it's not some act?  How are you gonna know she's not just using you because you're fucking vulnerable, and she doesn't want to spend the next thirty or so years in prison? I mean, lets' face it...she's the type that does what she has to do to survive."

"She's not like that," I grunt.  "I wish you could just talk to her, Trace.  I wish you could see her like I do."

"I have no desire to talk to her," he says, disgusted.  "She drugged you, dragged you off to some fucking hellhole and helped her twisted boyfriend to keep you there for a week.  How the fuck you expect me to "see her" like you do, is beyond me.  You know what I wish?  I wish you would take your family's advice and listen to that shrink.  That's what you need, not a trip down memory lane.  I mean, what the fuck are you gonna talk about, Justin?  You act like you're old friends or something, and she's just on a temporary vacation."

"I told you what happened," I whisper.  "It's not like you make it sound.  She's a good person she was just...sort of brainwashed for awhile.  She didn't have options."

"Fuck that," he grunts. "If things worked out differently, she would have killed you."

I look over at him.  His jaw is clenched in frustration and he's shaking his head roughly, like he can't believe what's going on right now.  "She shot him before he could kill me. If she wanted me dead, she would have let him do it."

"How long are you staying?" He says, completely avoiding what I just said to him.  "I have to think of a good story to tell your folks.  Fuck, maybe I'll just go to Mexico or something, and tell them you came with me. At least there I can get drunk and bang my girl in peace, and your mom will be thrilled I got you to leave your house for once. It's so fucked up, man," he laughs sadly.  "You know, I've been trying for months to get you back into the swing of things, to come party with us more than you do, and you refuse.  But you're fine with checking into some hotel and staying in bum fuck California by yourself for a couple of days."

There's nothing I can really say to make him change his mind about this. He thinks I'm fucked up, that Samantha is nothing more than a ruthless criminal, and I have to accept his opinion and not push him about it.  At least he hasn't turned his back on me, gone to my folks and told them what I'm trying to do.  But Trace isn't the type.  He's practically my brother, and we have one of those sacred bonds.  And this...this is something he'd take to the grave with him.  He knows that if he didn't, my mom would probably commit me or something, so in a sense...he's shielding me from that.

But that doesn't mean he has to like it.

"Two, maybe three days," I tell him.  "I talked to a lawyer and he’s flying in from New York to talk about our options.  He really thinks that she has a shot at an appeal if I testify on her behalf, since I didn't testify at her original trial."

"Psh."  He shakes his head again. "If you have time, think about why you couldn't testify at her original trial, Justin."

"That wasn't her fault."

He eyes me skeptically.  "You're really dense."

I decide to drop the subject for now.  It's apparent that he's getting more heated as we get into what's going on, so I'll let him think for awhile and wait for him to speak up again.  I focus my attention on the open road ahead.  It's pretty desolate now, we left the busy city highway behind hours ago.  The signs looming overhead point to a town called Chowchilla.  There's a prison there.

That's where she is.

"I hope that if I ever do something fucked up enough to land me in prison, you'll drive four hours to see my ass, Justin."

I look over at him again, expecting to see that same look of disgust spread across his face.  It's not there anymore though...not really.  He's sort of smirking, probably trying to make the best of this.  "Maybe, if I have enough gas."  

He looks at me, and I start to laugh.

He sighs.  "Just promise me that you'll call, so I know you didn't get murdered by some escaped prisoner."

His tone is plagued with worry now instead of anger, and I know he's starting to loosen up a little.  I know all he really wants for me is to get back to normal...to start living again, to be happy.  "I'll call, Trace."

He drives off the exit, and starts to follow the signs that lead to the Central California Women's Facility.  It's silent now.  I think I'm too nervous to say anything, and Trace is just freaked the hell out.  I wonder what she looks like, if she's feeling any better now that he's out of her life for good.

I wonder if she still loves me.

My hand closes around the letter she wrote me.  I have it memorized, word for word.  There's so much concern in it, so much love...just for me, even though she's the one that's facing a horrible fate.  One that she doesn't deserve, even though the majority thinks she does.

Now more than ever,  I know why this happened to me.

It happened so I could save her.

My brother is disappointed in me.  That day that I called Justin only to get his machine, killed fifteen minutes of my phone time.  By the time I called Craig, we had just a little over ten minutes to talk.  He asked what had kept me, who else I called.  I told him I was just late.  He didn’t buy it.

He told me to call him when I was ready to tell him the truth.

I guess he deserves it, after all I’ve done.

Right now though, he’s seemed to drift to the far corners of my mind.  I can only focus on one thing...one person at a time.

Right now, that person is Justin.

“On your feet.”

It was early, too early.  Not call day, hell, not even shower day.  I stared at the guard nervously for a few moments, and when I saw another one behind him after the door opened, I started to lose it.  I was confused, just wanted to be left alone to rot in my cell so I couldn’t hurt anybody else.

“What’d I do?”

The handcuffs were placed around my wrists.

“The warden wants to see you.”

I didn’t get it.  My case had been open and shut and I went into solitary confinement willingly, determined to make the best of things, and she hadn’t contacted me since.  I figured she didn’t have a reason to.  I did what I was told, behaved for the guards so I wouldn’t have a problem being transferred when the time came.  I started to think that maybe she wanted to talk to me about my transfer.

But something in my gut said otherwise.

The guard tapped on the closed door when we reached it, keeping one of his hands clamped around my upper arm.

“Come in.”

He pushed the door open and lead me inside.  She was sitting there at her desk, just waiting for me.  She looked pissed off.  More so than I’d ever seen before.

The guard guided me down into the chair that sat in front of her desk.  

“I’ll call when I need you again, thank you,” she said to the guard.

He nodded and left us.  The door closed.  

I was alone with her.

“Samantha, I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to give me an honest answer.”

I swallowed hard and took in a long breath.  “O-okay.”

“Have you made phone contact with Mr. Timberlake?”r32;
She knew and I had no idea how.  As far as I knew, Bill hadn’t said anything to her about it.  He kept that between us, because he knew it wouldn’t fly with the Warden.  I tried to think about how she could have known and the only thing I came up with was that she had looked through my call log.  It made sense, but I had been well behaved.  She didn’t have a reason to be checking up on me, at least that was what I thought.  “I...I called him once but...he wasn’t home.”

She sat up slightly.  “And why would you feel the need to call your victim?”

I shook my head slightly.  Justin wasn’t my “victim”,at least not to me.  Sure, she may have called him that because she didn’t understand the situation, but...he wasn’t that at all.  “It’s not like that...like...he was my prisoner or something.  Nobody gets it.”

“He’s mentally unstable, Samantha,” she nodded.  “He doesn’t know what’s best for him right now, and you making contact with him is only driving him further away from the reality of the situation.”

I scoffed.  “Justin isn’t mentally unstable.  If he didn’t want to talk to me, he wouldn’t.  It’s that simple.”

“Did you know he paid me a visit this morning?”

I felt my eyes grow wide, and my heart started to race.  At first I wasn’t sure if I heard her right, but then...I knew I had, and it was a crazy idea to me.  Justin had driven four hours from LA, probably wanted to see me, and the Warden had most likely turned him away.  “He’s here?”

“He was.  I spent over an hour explaining why he couldn’t have a visit with you.”

“Why?”

She stared at me, the disbelief and shock written all over her face.  “I don’t think I need to explain why.”

“I’ve behaved, done everything you’ve asked of me.  You said I could have a visit...”

“With your brother.”

“Yes, but...”

“If I let you have a visit with him, what will it solve? How will it enrich your time in prison, or make Justin’s life better? The truth is, it won’t do anything but hurt you and possibly confuse him even more.”

“I...”  I trailed off, nearly sobbing then, but forced myself to remain composed.  “Warden Johnson, I need this, and I know that you’ll probably never understand...but Justin needs this too.  Even if it’s the only time we see each other for the next thirty years, at least we’ll have a few minutes to get some things out in the open.  I need that chance, please.”

She stared at me, and for the first time, there was a slight spark of compassion in her eyes.  I knew she was starting to understand that there was more to Justin and I than a kidnapping, but it was hard for her to process.

“I’ll give you an hour tomorrow morning.  That’s it, and not a minute more.  If he hadn’t driven four hours, I don’t think I would be so lax about this.  It’s not in my job description.”

I felt like hugging her, but knew I couldn’t, partially because my hands were cuffed behind me, and also because well...Warden Johnson didn’t seem like the type that liked to hug.

“Thank you.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Miss Albertson.”

I smiled slightly.

“By the way.  Your transfer has come through.  You’ll be in your new prison at the end of next week.  I’ve already contacted the Warden.  He says that he’s going to get you into some enrichment programs, so you can possibly become part of their honor block.  I told him how well behaved you are, and so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Honor block is like a dream come true in prison.  You get two visits a week, have a free run of your cell block except lockdown at night, you get to help people in the community and in some cases, learn a trade, and...the biggest bonus of all, you get to shower everyday.  I was looking forward to that, but couldn’t dwell on it for long.

Because Justin was coming to see me the next day, and I guess I was in shock.  I was in shock that he made that much of an effort to see me.  Everybody knew the Warden wasn’t easily pushed around, but he must have pleaded his case in the most pathetic way possible, so she would give into him.

I went to bed that night, my stomach doing summersaults as I thought about what I would say to him, what he would look like, and if he would be the same I guy I remembered.

The next morning came quickly.  I was allowed to shower, which I was more than thankful for, because I didn’t want to smell like body odor for Justin.  He deserved better than that from me.  While I scrubbed myself to high heaven, I began to think about what he must have been going through.  Did his family know what he was doing? Did his friends? And if they did, how were they taking it?  

I had a gut feeling it wouldn’t have gone over well.  I saw the looks they gave me in the courtroom.  The ones that would have condemned me to death if it were possible.  They hated me, and with good reason, but I couldn’t dwell on that.  It wasn’t about them.  It was about Justin, what he wanted to do, and if he wanted to see me...that should have been his decision alone.  I would support him of course...

But I guess I really wanted to see him too.

“Warden Johnson never lets newbies have contact visits,” the guard explained to me later that morning, as he lead me down to the visiting hall.  “You must be special or somethin’.”

“I guess so.”

He stopped me at the door, smirking a little as he removed my handcuffs and unlocked the door.  “Make the most of your hour.”

He pushed me inside the room, and the door slammed shut behind me.  I was alone, but I knew it wouldn’t be long until he walked through the door.

I’d only been sitting for five minutes when the buzzing sound came and the other door across the room opened.  The guard walked in first, giving me the once over, warning me to keep my hands in plain site while I was having my visit. I just nodded, because I could see who I knew was Justin looming just behind him.  His back was turned towards me...he was talking to somebody.  

And when I craned my neck just far enough to see who it was, I felt my stomach drop.

Trace was with him, arguing with him, and for a brief moment, our eyes connected.  He sent me a look like...like if he could have, he would have killed me.

It made me want to crawl into a hole and die.

But then...Justin was there, and I knew I had to suck it up, force a smile for him because...shit, he’d done so much for me...too much.

He stepped inside, his eyes focused intensely on me and nothing else.  

The guard entered behind him and stepped quietly into the corner of the room so he could keep an eye on me.

My mouth and throat went completely dry.  For a long while, the most we could do was stare at each other, amazed that the other one was there.  Then I realized the clock was ticking, and decided to say something before I was forced back to my cell.  “Hi.”

He sucked in his bottom lip, and slowly made his way over to the table so he could take the seat across from me.  “Hey, Sam.”

He put his hand on top of the table, and I don’t know what in the world made me think it was okay...but I immediately grabbed onto it.

And he smiled.

The first thing I noticed was how wonderful he looked. There were no more bruises on his face, no more blood, no more look of sheer agony in his eyes.  Now they were bright, filled with life, just as they were that first night at the club.  He was getting back to himself...he had to be...

I just didn’t know what seeing me would do to him.  I kept thinking that Bill might have been right.  That talking to Justin was a terrible idea all the way around.

“I’m working on getting you out.”

It was the next thing he said.  His soft smile didn’t waver, and he didn’t let go of my hand.

I just stared at him, speechless for the longest time, before I was able to find my voice again.  “What...what do you mean?”

He straightened up a little bit, threw a casual glance back at the guard before leaning in closer to me.  “I found you a good lawyer.  He wants to help...he’ll be here tomorrow.”

I shook my head and looked down at our intertwined hands before pulling mine away.  “Justin...I’m here for a reason, okay? I mean...what...what made you want to come out for a visit anyway?  You have a life...a family.  None of that includes me.”

He looked at me like I was nuts.  “I’m here because I care about you, Sam.”

“That’s crazy.”

He looked hurt.  “You forgot about the letter already?”

“No..I...God, Justin, I’m a little overwhelmed here. that’s all.  I can’t believe you’re here...and that you convinced the Warden...I mean, how the hell did you pull that off anyway?”

He managed a smirk for me, even though I could tell he was battling with a million different emotions.  “I can be pretty persuasive when I have to be.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I donated a little money to the prison,” he shrugged.  

“Are you for real?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted.  “I wanted to see you, and even though you aren’t acting like it, I know you wanted to see me too...so here I am.”

I just stared at him, shocked that he cared as much as he did.  His eyes searched mine for a while...probably for answers, probably to figure out if I cared about him like he cared about me, but I wouldn’t have been able to give him an answer to that question just then even if he’d come out and asked me.  “Well it’s...it’s good to see you.”

“You look like hell, Sam.”

I knew I did.  That was what prison did to you.  There was no way of making myself look halfway presentable.  It wasn’t an option for me anymore.  “I’ve looked worse.”

He just nodded.  

“Justin I...I can’t have you going out on a limb for me.  You can’t just hire some fancy lawyer to get me a get out of jail free card.  I don’t deserve...”

“You do deserve it!” He exclaimed.  “You deserve the best of everything, don’t you get that? Don’t you get that you’re only in here because of him?”

I looked at the table.  “I could have walked away before...it happened.  I didn’t.  That was my choice.”

“Bullshit.”

I just stared at him.

“He would have hunted you down and killed you.  We both know that.”

I just shrugged.  “It’s still not an excuse.”

“I don’t care what part you played in it anymore.  I don’t.  I only care about you...because I know you’re not a criminal Sam.  You’ve never been a criminal.”

“And your family? What about them? What do they even think about this? I mean...I saw your friend.  That’s Trace right? He looked like he wanted to beat the living hell out of me.”

“It’s not about them.”r32;r32;“But it will be.”

He was silent.  A big part of him knew I was right, but he was trying so hard to push the idea of his family and friends out of his head then.  The only person he wanted to focus on was me and...and I felt he was slipping.  That he wasn’t focusing on the reality of the situation.  In that moment, all I wanted to do was tell him to forget about me, that I couldn’t see him anymore, but when I met his gaze and opened my mouth to say the words...I froze.  

I froze because nobody had ever looked at me the way he was then.  It was a look that forced me to believe his feelings for me were genuine, forced me to believe that...that I had feelings for him too.  

That I might have been capable of loving him, under different circumstances.

“I know it’s...it’s not going to be easy, all of this.  I know my family and friends won’t really accept it, Sam.  I know all that...I’ve been up nights, going over and over in my head if this was the right thing to do.  If it made sense.  In the end, the only thing I knew was that...I still cared about you, and I wanted to see you, just once, to tell you how I felt and possibly get you some help.  I’m prepared to face whatever consequences I have to, you know? I love the people in my life, but I’m not the same person they knew before this.  Being around you feels right, and I can’t ignore that anymore.”

I lowered my head, looked down at the table for a few moments, trying to collect my thoughts and come up with a good response to what he said.  His speech had blown me away, there was no denying that, and I knew...things between him and I were a whole lot deeper than I ever thought.  “It’s going to be next to impossible to get me out of here, Justin.”

“Do you trust me?”

I looked up into his eyes, and felt tears begin to flow down my face.  “Yes.”

“Then you have to be strong for me, and believe things will work out, because I’m going to do whatever I have to.” He smiled and quickly ran his hand down my cheek.  “I’m getting you out of here, Sam.”

And I don’t know why, but I started to believe it was possible.  Possible to get out, have a normal life, and not have to be scared, or depressed any longer.  I put all the anxiety and paranoia that lurked inside of me, to the side.  I only focused on him, and the things about him that made me the happiest.  I found that I felt a little happier overall when I did this, even if it wasn’t realistic.  

He left me that day with a smile, told me he’d be back in the morning with my new attorney.  He hugged me, started  back at me for a few moments like he really wanted to plant his lips on mine, but then the guard called out to us and said it was time to go.

I don’t know why, but I was a little thankful.  I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.  Not with him.

“So, during the first interview following your arrest, Samantha, did you ever ask Agent Garner if you could speak to an attorney?”

“No.” I barely whisper it.  I’m nervous, more than I thought I would be.  This lawyer that Justin hired for me is a fast, slick talker from New York City.  We’ve blown through my case in the matter of a couple of hours, and I guess he feels like he has all the answers, that he can spring me out of prison and all I have to do is play the part of a poor, defenseless half wit who wasn’t in her right mind during questioning and deal making with the DA.  I know what this will do to Bill.  I can only imagine how angry he’ll be when he finds out I’m stabbing him in the back after all he did to make my punishment as easy as possible.

But this is my one shot.  My one shot at freedom while I still have some of my youth left.  I can’t stop myself from taking it.

“Do you think you would have asked for a lawyer, if you’d been sober?”r32;
“Well I was...kind of sober...”

His eyes narrow.  “Samantha, we both know you were going through withdrawal.  There’s no way you could have been in your right mind when Agent Garner questioned you, or when he brought the DA in.  You were provided with a public defender when it came time to make a deal.  Somebody who was more concerned about getting your case off his workload, than what became of your life.   The point is, you were denied your human right to be of sound mind while being questioned, and that...that’s what is going to get your case thrown out of court.  You’ll be granted a new trial, and with Justin’s testimony to back you up, I’m certain you’ll be declared innocent by mental disease or defect.  That means you’ll spend a few months under psychiatric evaluation, and then you’ll be a free woman, Sam.  You just have to play the game and work with me.”

“Sam.”

I look over at Justin.  The Warden allowed him into the prison today with Ted the attorney, since he was the one who brought him in from New York.  While it’s been great having him here, I can’t help being uneasy about the whole situation.

“Sam, look at me.”

I do it.

“Ted, can you give us a sec?”

“Sure.”

Ted steps out of the room, leaving Justin and I alone for a few minutes.  He quickly takes my hands in his and looks into my eyes desperately, as if everything in his world is riding on this one meeting.  “Sam, you have to listen to him.”

I look down at our hands, can’t help but smile seeing them that way, locked together.  “It’s a lie, Justin.”

“It’s not...it’s not a complete lie.  Ted knows what he’s talking about.  I mean, you were out of your mind when all of that happened.  How could you know that you were incriminating yourself...”

“Justin!”

He stares at me, his eyes wide, seemingly in disbelief.

“I knew what I did, all right? Sober or not, I was in the wrong.”

“Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“God...” I sigh harshly.  “Of course I do.”

“Then you weren’t in your right mind when Bill interviewed you that morning, were you?”

“I...”

“Were you Sam?”

“No.” I barely get the word out as I run my hands through my hair.  “Maybe...maybe I wasn’t ready to talk then.  Maybe I should have been able to think it over some more, and clear my head.  If I had...I probably would have asked for a lawyer then.”

He nods, reaches out and squeezes my hands when I return them to the table top.  “Right.”

Deep down, he knows this is wrong too, but I guess I’m too important to him.  He feels so strongly about me that he’s willing to lie, to make somebody that took such good care of him and I look like a fool to his peers.  I wonder, when this is all said and done, if either of us will be able to live with ourselves.

Maybe not, but at least I have a chance to feel guilty outside of these walls, free to do what I want for the rest of my life.

Justin has Ted come back in the room after a few moments, tells him I’m ready to work, to do whatever I have to, so I can get a new trial.  Ted seems delighted, probably because he knows there’s a big paycheck and lots of publicity in this for him.

I, on the other hand, feel sick to my stomach.

“I’ll get the paperwork started.  Hopefully I’ll be able to get you a hearing in a few weeks.  In the meantime, make sure you’re on your best behavior, and I’ll be arranging for you to start seeing a shrink once or twice a week.  He’s a specialist from out of town that I’ve known for years.  He’ll be able to evaluate you and write up a report for the judge that will convince him to give you a new trial.  You don’t need to worry about a thing, all right?”

“Thank you.”  I can barely look at him as he shakes my hand.

“I’ll be in touch.  Justin, I’ll give you a call as soon as I know more, all right?”

“Yeah, absolutely.  Thanks a lot, man.  I really appreciate this.”

They bid each other goodbye, and once Ted grabs his briefcase, he quickly leaves.  

“Ten minutes.” The guard tells us, before shutting us inside the conference cell again.

“See? It’s all going to work out,” Justin smiles and takes my hands in his from across the table.  “I told you it would.”

I smile for him innocently, even though on the inside, I’ve never felt more like a criminal.

It’s been two weeks since we saw each other, and I miss her more than ever, but it’s been like hell trying to hide my emotions from everybody I know.  When I got back home after that weekend in Chowchilla, nothing seemed different.  Eric was at the guest house, my dogs whimpered and jumped all over me, and I had about twenty five messages on my answering machine, ninety percent of them work related.  I skipped all of those, and went right to the important stuff.  My mom left me a message to call her, but it was a cheerful one and I knew Trace held up his side of the bargain, didn’t tell anybody the truth.  Then there was one from Shelly.  It was tearful, miserable.  She said she didn’t want to see me anymore if I was going to ignore her.

I decided to go with that, let her go, because the moment she found out the truth, which I knew she would, she wouldn’t want anything to do with me either.

Rachael didn’t call, though.  Normally when we have an argument she does, tells me she wants to talk, but not this time.

I know it’s serious with her, this whole thing.  Maybe she really doesn’t want to see me again, but I’m okay with that for right now, as fucked up as it is.

The only person I want to worry about right now, is Samantha.  I really think Ted is going to do a good job, and get her out of this.  When he does I want to be ready.  Ready to help her get back on her feet and live the life she was always supposed to, because she deserves it.

I forced myself into the studio a few times this week, just to take the edge off my nerves.  Writing and creating calms me down, makes me forget everything.  Timb is real happy, says we should be able to send the album out for edits in a couple of weeks, have the whole thing ready by the end of the year.  I wish I could be as excited as he is.  I’ve tried to be, but there’s so much going on in my life right now that the album is almost an afterthought.  When this thing with Sam blows over, I’m sure I’ll start to feel differently.  For now, I’ll just be happy that I was able to create something after the hell I was put through.

“Shelly says you haven’t called her at all.”

I sit silently, change the television channel, but don’t look over at him.

“Justin.”

I sigh.  After everything, Trace still doesn’t get it.  I told him that I was in love with Sam.  He still thinks it’s just something I’m going through.  Something I’ll get over.  He’s wrong though.  This is real, and Shelly is somebody that I could never be with again, despite how much we used to care for one another.  I’m not that person anymore.  

“I know I haven’t called her back.”

“So after a weekend in Chowchilla you’re completely convinced that she’s the one for you.”

I tap the remote on the arm of the sofa nervously.  “Maybe.”

“You know, you didn’t even tell me how it went or anything.”

“I figured you’d make your own assumptions about it.  You’ve been good at that kind of shit lately.”

He scoffs.  “What, the assumption that you’re fucking crazy? That’s not an assumption, J.  That’s the truth.”

I just shrug.  Really, if he weren’t like a brother to me, I wouldn’t even have him over at all.  But I do, because I care about him and about our friendship, even if he thinks I’ve gone off the deep end.  “You could have stayed that day, you know.  Gotten to know her?”

“I’ve told you more than once that I have no desire to do that.  What’s even going on, Justin? What did the lawyer say? Are you like...seriously pushing for this?  Didn’t it occur to you at all...what she’s done?”

This time I look at him, right in the eyes, and he can tell that this was never a joke to begin with.  “He’s working on getting her a new trial.  I should hear more in a couple of days.”

“And when she gets out, then what?  Are y’all going to move in together?”

“If she needs a place to stay.”

He’s completely silent after that, and I know I’ve freaked him out.  Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time and I doubt it will be the last.

“Trace, look...she needs somebody.  She’s always needed somebody, and it just turned out to be me...”

“You’ve gone way too fucking far.”  He pushes himself up from the sofa and stands before me, his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed.  “I mean, I thought you were just going to visit her, have her talk to this lawyer, and leave her on her own from there.  Now you’re about to bring her around us? Into our lives, Justin? What about your folks? What about the family and the rest of us?  Do you really think we’re going to fold up and accept her?”

“It’s not about you,” I manage after a moment.  “This about me and Sam.”

“You and Sam.” He lets out a bitter laugh.  “What, are you a couple now?”

I don’t say anything.  It wouldn’t matter if I did, because he’s not going to accept Sam, ever.

“I have to talk to your mom, Justin.  I don’t want to, but I can’t let her find all of this out the hard way.  If you respected her at all, you’d be the one to sit her down and tell her what’s going on, but I know you won’t do that.  Nothing about your family matters to you anymore.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”  He says it angrily.  “I won’t allow you to let this girl destroy your parents, or any of us, and I think if you go through with this, you shouldn’t count on any of us being there for you.”

I knew this would happen.  Sam even said it would, but I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.  I love my family and my friends, but Sam...Sam doesn’t have anybody else except for me and I won’t let her down.  Not now.  “I’m not counting on it, but this is something that I need to do too.”

He doesn’t say anything else to me, just lets out a bitter laugh, and storms out of my house.

When the door slams, I know I’m completely alone in this.  Out of everyone, he said he would be here for me because I was his best friend.

Now he’s not.

But that’s okay.

My cell begins to vibrate on the side table next to the sofa, so I decide to move on to the next thing.  Won’t do me any good to dwell on Trace, because he’ll never change.  “Hello.”

“Justin...Ted Hallbert.”

“Oh, hey.”

“We’ve been granted a hearing.  They’re going to make a decision about giving Sam a new trial.”

I sit back, let out a huge breath and for the first time since I saw her, I can’t control my smile.  “That’s...that’s great!”

“The judge was a little reluctant, but I think we won our way in with a little speech about Sam’s civil rights.  We’re going to do it next Monday, ten am.  I can’t guarantee the media won’t find out about it before then.”

“I’ll be there,” I say, seriously.  “I don’t care who’s there.”

“Bill Garner is also going to be there.  He wants to make a statement.”

I sit up slightly, feel my heart begin to beat a little faster, because I know it can’t be a good thing.  “What kind of statement?”

“I ran into him today.  He made it pretty clear that he has no intention of letting Samantha get out of prison if he can help it.”

“I figured he would be pissed.”

“He may try to contact you.  If he does, make sure you don’t say anything.  Tell him at the advice of council, you aren’t allowed to speak to him about this case.”

I swallow hard.  It won’t be easy talking to Bill that way, even if I am trying to play his opinions off as nothing.  The man saved my life, and now...it’s like I’m slapping him in the face.

But I care about Sam, so I don’t have a choice.

“I can do that.”

“Good.  I’ll be in touch.  Just hang in there and don’t hesitate to call me if you have any issues.”

“Thanks.”

He hangs up.  I sigh, lean back, squeeze my eyes shut and open them again.  This isn’t going to be easy.  In fact, I’m willing to bet this whole thing is going to turn into a big media circus starting next week.  I knew that going in, I guess.  What happened to me was nation wide news, and now...I’m trying to spring one of the people responsible from prison.

It’s no wonder everybody thinks I’m crazy.

But they don’t understand.

Nobody does.
*************
I haven’t answered my cell in days.  My mother has been trying to call non stop and I’m sure it’s because Trace talked to her, told her what’s going on.  I guess I can’t face her.  I’m not ready to hear her cry again, tell me that she doesn’t know what’s wrong with me.  It would hurt me too much, might persuade me to change my mind about all of this.  I won’t do it, no I can’t, because I love Sam.  I really do.

At the same time though, I know if I don’t talk to her by phone, she’s going to show up here at the house, furious.  That’s a version of my momma that I really don’t like to see, but there’s nothing I can do to stop her from coming here if that’s what she wants to do.

I’ll face that issue when the times comes.  Today, I’ll concentrate on other things.  Maybe do some work, make some business related calls.  Yeah...anything to take my mind off of all this shit for awhile.

Besides, Sam is going to call this afternoon.  It’s her day.  I’m looking forward to it.  She was transferred to the new facility last week.  She wrote me a letter, says it’s really good, better than the last place.  Much cleaner, and the people are nicer.  She said her brother came to visit, but that she would talk to me about it when she saw me again.  All I can guess is that he knows what’s happening, and thinks I’m just as crazy as everybody else does.

I’ll handle him when the time comes, too.

“Justin.”

Eric’s voice comes through the intercom in my bathroom while I’m getting dressed, and I stagger over, my shirt half on, nearly tripping over a towel I threw on the floor.  “Yeah?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who?”

“Agent Garner.”

Shit.  Really, here at my house?  I figured he’d call, want me to come to his office.

Then again, I’m sure he’s angry enough to make the trip here to see me.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

I lay my palms flat against the countertop, give myself a long look in the mirror.  I’m surprised at how tired and withdrawn I look.  I thought I was doing better.  I felt better...but I guess...I guess maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought.  I look like I’m slipping again, like I was in the beginning, but I don’t understand why.  Still, there’s no sense in hiding up here in my room.  I know I have to face Bill, even if I’m not going to talk to him about Sam.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.  

I finish dressing, and I slowly make my way downstairs.  I find Bill sitting in my living room with a cup of coffee that Eric obviously fixed for him.  My bodyguard is no where to be found though, and I’m assuming he went out to the guest house so we can have some privacy...only I wish he had stayed.  If I’m alone with Bill, there won’t be any witnesses when he shoots me dead.

“Hey, Bill.”  I plastered a smile on my face as I walk towards him.

“Cut the crap, Justin.”

I stop in my tracks, and feel my smile fade away.  He has this look on his face that’s a mixture of anger and sadness.  I know I’ve let him down, but I can’t help that.  “Look, Bill...”

He slowly puts his coffee down on the table in front of the sofa, and gets up, steps right up to me so his face is inches from mine.  He’s almost taller than me, and I feel myself shrinking back, afraid of what he might do.  

“Do you realize what you’re doing?”

I turn my back on him quickly, before he can stop me.  “I can’t talk about this with you.”

“I know that.  But I didn’t come here to talk about it.  I came here to prove my point, and move on.”

I glance back at him.  “What are you talking about?”

He says nothing, just pulls a small recording device out of his pocket, and clicks a button to make it play.  

“Why are you doing this?”

My eyes widen when I hear my mother’s voice.

“Just shut up! Shut up and listen otherwise I’ll go stick a knife in your son right now! Is that what you want Mrs. Harless?”

She begins to sob after Sam says it all, and I feel like I’ve been hit with a ten ton weight.  I have to sit down.  She never told me, and I never thought she was capable of talking to somebody that way.

“Turn it off,” I say to him darkly.

“Get the money, Mrs. Harless.  Get the money on time, or else you’ll never see him again, and I can guarantee you’ll never find the body.”

“TURN IT OFF!” I yell it this time, get up, and charge towards him.  He’s too quick for me of course.  Years of being in law enforcement has taught him well, and before I know it I’ve been slammed up against the wall.  I struggle, but he has me pinned, and I find that the only thing I can do is whimper like an idiot.

“Is that the kind of person you want in your life, Justin,” he says softly, his face in front of mine again.

I don’t answer.

He shakes me.  “Answer me.”

“That’s not her,” I whimper.

He finally lets me go after a few more moments, with disgusted look, one he would give to a criminal.  “That is her, and if this is the only way to get through to you, then so be it.  Your mother called me, and that’s the only reason I’m here.  Now get your act together.  Fire this lawyer and call this whole thing off before things get worse.”

“I won’t do it.  You can pull out all the tapes you want, but I’m not backing down from this.  She doesn’t belong in prison.  It wasn’t her fault.”

He just laughs, shakes his head bitterly.  “Then you’re on your own, Justin.”

“You think I don’t know that already?”

He walks to the door, and pauses when he swings it open.  “I’m not sure if you’re grasping it, no.  You’re about to lose your friends, the support of your family, and most peoples respect for you.  After everything you went through, and everything people did to get your life back on track, I thought you would have understood why Sam belongs in prison.”

“Well you underestimated me then.” I cross my arms.  “Are we done?”

“Yeah.”  He nods.  “We are.”

He walks out, the door slams...

And then I know I’m completely alone.