Chapter 7

What was wrong with me?
“Yeah?” I murmured.
“Isn’t Charlotte’s sweater just…to die for?” She smirked, and sarcasm dripped from her words like maple syrup.
“Yeah, it is,” I said flatly, and gave Charlotte a real smile. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but to hell with that.
“I want to use some sort of deeper toned yellow coloring for my fashion line. It’s very in this season.”
Charlotte returned my reassuring grin with a slow, cautious smile of her own.
A gasp was heard from the girls; Betti and Layla at least, and Mackenzie’s eyes narrowed.
“What are doing?” She spat in a whisper as Charlotte examined her ‘fashionable’ sweater.
“It’s cute,” I replied softly, and bit my lip to hold back a chuckle.
Mackenzie glared at me for a few more seconds, then shook her head and turned back to Charlotte.
“So, is your dad still out of a job?” She inquired.
Charlotte looked up, and a frown shadowed her face.
“Yeah…”
Mackenzie giggled and so did Layla. Betti smirked. I raised my eyebrows and watched. I felt like punching Mackenzie in the face. I felt like walking out with Charlotte and leaving these petty girls to their sad lives. But it wasn’t a Disney movie. I was still Ashely Solovan, daughter of the man who created Panther car brand, with no mother and a huge mansion for a house and these were the friends who I had felt accepted with, who had talked to me and sat with me and laughed with me and partied with me, but…I felt like we had lost our connection, like I was in another world and I could never go back, and I felt like it had someone to do with my strange memories and dreams and mysterious absences and I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, because I was just so lost. It was like I was floating in space and right out of my grasp were Mackenzie and the girls and my father and my memories and Mystery guy and the man with the blue eyes that I had just remembered, whoever he was.
“Can you even afford proper shoes?” Betti asked, laughing at Charlotte’s old sneakers. Layla joined in. Mackenzie stared at me.
“Nope,” Charlotte chirped. But I could tell she was breaking down inside. I had to do something, I thought. Even if punching Mackenzie in the face wasn’t exactly an option.
“Aww, so sad, Charlotte can’t afford a pair of shoes,” Layla snickered. Mackenzie smiled. I sat.
Charlotte’s smile wavered and she stared at me, waiting, as if I was going to help her or something.
“Well, you can’t afford a proper nose job,” I said icily.
Layla turned and stared at me in complete and utter horror and shock.
“I’m just saying, before you bother someone about their shoes maybe you should take a look in the mirror.” I shrugged.
Mackenzie’s made up face seemed to cave within itself, as a grotesque scowl crowded her features.
Before anything could be said, the bell rang and it was time for class. I didn’t look at Mackenzie or the girls as I made my way hurriedly to the exit.
“Hey!” Charlotte’s voice called from behind. I stood as the sea of people swarmed around me, thrusting themselves out the door.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.” She looked deep into my eyes and I could tell she meant it.
“Um, no problem,” I replied, wracking my brain for where my next class was.
“You’re different, Ashely,” Charlotte said softly, still searching my eyes.
“You shouldn’t hang with them,” She added. “They’re stupid, silly, shallow girls. You’re not. At least not anymore.”
And then she was gone, and I was left in an empty lunchroom, with no idea where I was going. What was my next class? I needed a schedule, some sort of guide, something to point me in the right direction. I felt my breath coming in short gasps and leaned back against the wall, opening my bag and searching to no avail. I felt like even if I found what I was looking for I would still be lost in the school, with the cold white walls and the gray marble floor, the fluorescent lights bright and obtrusive to my vision, a headache beginning again and a sense of comfort ending.

It was only then that George(Mystery Guy) walked by with an aloof expression, as if he was moving to his own music. He barely noticed my until he did a double take, and stopped.
“You okay?” He asked, as anyone would if they saw me pale as a sheet, leaning against the wall of the school cafeteria. But something in the undertones of his question made me want to dive deeper, as if there was some sort of understanding, an alternate meaning in his words.
“Um, no actually, I kind of don’t know where my class is.” I smiled politely and ran a hand through my hair, laughing breathily.
“Well, I’m on my way to Philosophy, and I’m pretty sure you’re in my Humanities classes,” George reassured me.
“Of course,” I replied, gulping. “I just blanked on the schedule, you know, since the vacation and all.”
I examined his response to my news, which was a small twitch of a smile and a blink.
He began to walk down the hall and I followed, and once we were there I thanked him and we entered. There were only two seats left, right next to each other in the back of the room near the window where the pigeons left their droppings. How delightful. I took the one nearest to the window, for at least it was something to look out of when bored during the long discussions.
Already the class was arguing about the question “what is the meaning of life?”. I wanted to fall asleep. Then I remembered my C plus average in the class due to my lack of understanding and participation.
“Everyone says that the ‘meaning of their life’ is to do something they want to do,” Michael(former football player I’d dated for a year) said, standing, as we had to do when we said something.
“But I can’t help but think that that’s missing the point. Who wants to do nothing in their life except be happy? Don’t you want to be remembered for something?” He sat down.
A loud bit of shouting occurred after he finished his speech.
“Quiet!” Miss Fitzwater raised her arm. I raised my hand.
“Ashely.” She smiled.
“Um, Michael?” I searched the room for him, my hands shivering with nervousness.
I stood.
“The meaning of life.” I coughed. A few laughs. “The meaning of life is…to live.” I mentally punched myself as more laughs joined in.
“I mean, there’s more to living than being happy, Michael. There’s your relationships, there’s love and hate and despair, there’s happiness and bliss and there’s accomplishment, determination, and rejoice.” I could feel Goosebumps on my arms.
Michael stared at me, a confused expression on his face. He’d never seen me as more than a blonde bimbo, I realized. I’d never quite shown my thoughtfulness or intelligence to people, even though it had always existed. I was too caught up in shopping, boys, and drama, people assumed that I got good grades because I bribed the teachers or I flirted with them or something.
“The meaning of life is not to be happy, and you’re right, there’s a lot more to it,” I stood a little taller, feeling more comfortable now.
“But you don’t have to be remembered to have a life. Everyone forgets. Everyone loses their thoughts and that’s normal. The amazing things that you may do in your life should be things that you feel proud of, not things that you are unhappy with and spend your life doing that mean nothing to you.” I licked my lips.
  Miss Fitzwater nodded slowly.
“If you want to be a doorman, and that makes you happy, then by all means, do it!” I exclaimed. “If it makes you feel happy, and alive, and free, then it’s the right thing to be doing. But if you feel stuck, and alone, and bored, and upset, being a doorman, then you’re not doing the right thing. Then it’s not meant to be. And you have to open that door and get out there and realize what you’ve been missing all your life.”
Then I sat down.
No one said a word.
A silence ensued.
A deafening silence, I mused. Oxymoronic, but true. It was almost crushing me, and through the silence I could almost hear the thoughts of the students in that old wooden paneled room with the bright light coming through the window and the cold air still as an ice statue.
“Thank you, Ashely.” Miss Fitzwater wrote something down on a piece of paper at her desk.
Michael continued to stare at me as the rest of the class got into some new discussion. I sat down stiffly and daydreamed until the period was over.
As the class went to leave, he came towards me.
“Yo, Ashely,” He said in that deep jock voice of his.
What a jerk.
“Yes, Michael?” I asked plainly and politely.
“What the hell were you doing in there?” He spat at me.
“Um…participating?” I replied, as we exited the classroom.
“You totally shot me down in front of the entire class. That’s not cool babe.”
I grimaced, disgusted. “Yeah, that’s what a debate is for.” I barged past him through the door and he ran to catch up to me in the hall, accidentally knocking my bag over. The entire contents scattered all over the floor and I shrieked as my graphing calculator landed on my leg with a burst of unnecessary pain.
How could I have ever even thought of dating such an incompetent douche? Oh right, he was “cute”. I stared at him as he looked at the disaster that had just occurred. He had an average face, angular features and a strong jaw line. His eyes were a greenish brown color and his hair was a soft brown, swiftly brushed to the side. He was attractive, I supposed, but an imbecile.
“Well?” He squinted up at me with a confused look on his face.
I realized I had gone off in my own thoughts again.
“What?” I yelled back at him, my face turning red.
“Aren’t you going to pick up your stuff? We’re running late for gym.” He laughed nervously.
“You pick it up, you moronic buffoon!” I snapped at him, starting to lose my nerve.
“You insult my intelligence and get mad at me for crushing your idiotic idealisms, and now all of my belongings are destroyed thanks to you. The least you could do is pick up my-”
“Hey Michael, bro, sup?” Michael’s football buddy Greg have him a big pat on the shoulder. Michael interrupted my tirade to do some stupid handshake that involved many handshake-high five movements.
“You know what, forget it,” I shouted. Michael and his crony turned back to me, bewildered.
“Just go.”
And they turned and left. And I picked up the pieces. At least I stood up for myself, I thought. And I was not going to let Mackenzie and her crew get the best of my in P.E.
By the time I got to physical education there was a lot of gossiping being murmured about. I even heard someone say that I “made out with Michael and his friend at once and then punched him in the face”. Great.
The massive gymnasium, with its great dome ceiling and windows, bright lights and quiet interior, full of girls whispering, waiting, and giggling, had never intimidated me as it did now. I was almost always late to gym actually, because I liked to refresh my makeup on the seventh floor and then return to the basement before, since I was there in front of all of the girls in my grade. But today, with my disheveled appearance, set into one of the leotard-uniforms we used for gymnastics, I had done one of the  recent “infractions” of the standards at Waterside High.
More girls stared and murmured than ever before, and this time it wasn’t about my dad’s latest car commercial or my new suede designer miniskirt. I felt like a deer in headlights, and I quickly rushed to a seat and the corner and prayed that class would start shortly.

Chapter

“Remember this is all about balance and control. If you have none of that, just try.” Mr. Dorten adjusted the balance beams and had us all work in groups of 4. My gym group was with Mackenzie, Betti, and Layla, and I groaned, anticipating another spat like earlier that day.
The girls pretended to ignore me for most of our practicing. When it was Mackenzie’s turn, they “accidentally” jabbed me sharply in the stomach with their elbows, clapping and cheering wildly as she mastered the easy steps(a jump and a spin). I gritted my teeth. As she jumped off the bar in  perfect balance, the whole gym watched and applauded.
And then it was my turn. The people watched. Left their bars, sat on the mats, and fixed there eyes onto my pale, graceful frame. Only silence filled the room, and the shifting of people in their seats. I got up unto the bar neatly with no problem, and performed a simple jump and an arabesque. And then it was time. One more move and I could dismount. But it wasn’t that simple. I wanted to surpass Mackenzie. I wanted to feel the heat on her face and take in the rage in her eyes. At that moment, I wanted to show the school that I had changed for the better. No matter where I had been, I was still Ashely Solovan, popular, beautiful, and spectacular. I hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe I had changed. Maybe I was no longer that Ashely. Maybe I was even better. But I didn’t consider these minor affairs. I stepped back a few times, and lifted myself into a handstand, wavering in that one fraction of time and landing back on my feet like a true gymnast.

Except that didn’t happen.
Instead of one of those dramatic scenes of the movie where I show the world how amazing I am, I tripped and fell off of the beam. Onto the cool, hard mats, leaving me with no reassurance, and a cool, hard, feeling of regret.

It happened slowly, then with a bang, kind of like falling in love. That was a bit overdramatic and corny, but true. I was just hanging there, gravity pulling me down and the force of my arms pushing me up, when the world seemed to collide with my body and I was left on the mats as guffaws started up. And it was all because of that one little thought. Trying to keep my mind off of the fact that I was performing a risky feat in front of my entire grade, I had let my mind slip off course. Or maybe I had made it slip off course. Whatever it was, once I had been on a smooth snow-dusted ground, and then I was on a slippery ice covered hill. And that one thought found its way into my head, and I was falling down the slope. That one thought of the man with the blue eyes.




Chapter
"What is it?" I asked stiffly, adjusting myself on the couch. I could feel his body heat emanating from him and suddenly I felt awkward and weird and uncomfortable and I wanted him to leave the couch or something bad was going to happen.
Fortunately, he stood up. Unfortunately, he grinned.
"Gotcha," He said. "There is no news."
I wanted to kick his groin or something painful, but he turned to leave.
"Do you enjoy it?" I said as he was halfway out the door.
"Enjoy what?" He turned halfway, and I could see his profile, the sharp nose, and chin, and black, shiny hair, one blue eye focused on me.
"Working here? Kicking cheese sticks around? Torturing me?" I pursed my lips and waited for a reaction.
He gave a fake laugh and kind of grimaced.
"Do you like being the rich, spoiled popular girl who gets everything she wants?" He asked.

My eyes burst open as the memory seeped into my head. What the…
The man with the blue eyes. His name was Roy? Was I making all of this up? No, I couldn’t be. It was all too real.
“Ashely!” My maid, Silvia entered the room holding a small gift. From Daddy, I decided.  It was wrapped in gold paper, with a pink bow, and she laid it on my bedside table and left. I checked the time. 6:30. I had time to open the present, get dressed, and make it to school.
Tearing open the golden sheets of paper and opening the box, I revealed a gaudy necklace with a huge red charm on it that said “Rich Gurl” on it. I threw it across the room and it hit the wall with a tremendous snapping sound. Cringing, I jumped out of bed.
It had snapped in two. Broken, on the floor, forgotten as I left the room to get ready for school.
Daddy was gone when I entered the pretentious dining room with it’s mahogany counter and floor panels and a huge statue of a horse by the kitchen table.
Silvia was bustling about the room, the smell of eggs and butter drifting to my nose.  The sun was just rising above the trees on the estate, and it felt like a good morning. And a good morning always meant a good day, I thought. Or I hoped.
“Eat.” Silvia grumbled, handing me eggs with hollandaise sauce on one of our expensive China platters. I took a fork from the drawer and began to cut out a piece.
“Hey, Silvia,” I called, as she turned to leave the room.
“Do you like working here?”
She stared at me for a moment.
“What do you mean?” She mumbled finally.
“Well, you don’t seem like you like it very much.” I shrugged and continued to cut my eggs into pieces.
“I don’t have a choice,” She snapped, and went to leave the room once again.
“Why don’t you?” I inquired.
“What?”
“Why don’t you have a choice?”
“Well, Ashely, let’s see,” She started, getting a bit annoyed. “Most people don’t have millions of dollars at their disposal. Most people need to work for their money. I have three children and no husband and I live in a tiny apartment. All of this money is going to my kids. Now, for you, this must seem very impossible to be happening, but I don’t live in your fairytale world.”
She left the dining room.
Normally having my maid talk back to me would be means for Daddy to fire her on the spot, but I couldn’t help but see the imminent truth in Silvia’s words and I felt like an idiot for asking about her personal life.
That was who we were. Two completely different people with two completely different lives, Silvia with a 15 hours-a-day job and me with my pampering and spoiling.
It sucked. I felt even more spoiled for thinking this, but, what if I didn’t want to be this way? Everyone of a lower class hated me. Even at school, they had hated me, they had been scared of me and Mackenzie and Betti and Layla and had bowed down to us like peasants to royalty.
Even Charlotte still hated me, I realized, even after I’d stood up for her yesterday.
“Ashely!” It was Silvia, sweeping the entrance way.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going out for groceries, but I don’t have my keys.” She slammed her broom against the wall and it echoed throughout the house.
“It’s okay, I’ll leave the door wide open!” I yelled back.
And suddenly another thought invaded my mind.
“They’re going to take you away from here,” He said in a hoarse voice.
I should be surprised, I thought. “What?”
“You’re going to be put into a slave trade.” He said each word slowly, as if he couldn’t believe it. But I knew he’d been processing this for a week now.
“WHAT?!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs, doing the best acting possible. Then I began to breathe heavily. It wasn’t that hard to pretend to be scared or startled. It was today that my life would change forever. Or end. I was ready. But not ready enough.
Roy handed me a thick white sheet of paper that was folded 4 times. “This is your… interview response. You have to give it to the…to the people that take you.”
I took the paper and stuffed it into my pocket without reading it, crumpling it. Roy winced.
Why was he so upset about some dumb piece of paper that I had to give to my slave-traders?
“I’m sorry.” His voice was almost emotionless, but his eyes flickered. Did he actually care, or was he a talented actor? And why would he be apologizing to me? It’s his fault I got into this mess in the first place.
“They’ll be picking you up in the next 5 minutes. It’s my fault this is happening to you,” He said slowly. “Just remember…the door’s wide open…”
“No it’s not!” I yelled.
But he just turned, walked straight out the door, and slammed it shut. I could hear his footsteps retreating away, one last time…

I jolted and my eyes flew open as the memory joined the collection that were forming a story in my head. As strange as it could sound, it felt like I was getting used to these now, as if each one was a different puzzle piece and I just had to find the one that connected them all together.
I made myself busy until seven-thirty,-read the newspaper, made myself coffee, worked out on the treadmill and laid out my glorious outfit-sweatpants and a hoodie. And then, when it was seven-twenty-five, I sat down on the plush couch and lay back on it and tried to remember.
I could feel the memories, as if I could grasp them, just in the back of my head. But I couldn’t conjure up anything. By seven-thirty I was angry, nervous, and frustrated. Angry about life, nervous about school, and frustrated with myself.
The nervousness was the most prominent, as yesterday I had made a fool of myself in front of my entire grade and now I got to face them again, as well as turning against all of my popular friends and standing up for Charlotte. Great. But I could overcome, I could make it through those six hours, and as the morning got lighter I felt within myself that the best of mornings made the best of days, and the best of lives.
So I opened the door into the fresh day, and left it wide open behind me.
Chapter


As I entered the building, whispers and stares, suppressed laughter, and as the goose bumps crept up my arms, I stared back, giving them the satisfaction as their snickers and smirks slithered through my body and smothered me.
“Hey, that’s the girl who fell off the bar,” One girl whispered to her boyfriend.
“Wow, what is she wearing?” Another said about my sweatpants.
“What a loser…she‘s like Charlotte‘s bff now.”
“How was she ever popular?”
“I guess she’s pretty…but ew.”
And I stood there, my shadow long and stiff as the hot sunlight lit my body from the back with the huge window, everyone on all sides staring at me in the long, wide, marble hallway.
Then I bowed my head, and let the warmth shine on my disheveled hair and down my back, and I knelt on the cold, hard ground, and then I lay upon it. Cold, but reassuring, it held me, the only thing I could depend on. And the sunlight took over me, and my shadow was gone as I lay there, and a stunned silence filled that long hall. I closed my eyes.
A beautiful peacefulness erupted like a volcano, starting at the tips of my toes and lifting to the ends of my hair. And then I was no longer in that frigid room, but I was remembering.
I lay there, and I could literally feel my heart slowing down. But I wasn’t in pain, I was at peace. I was just…happy. It was over. And I convinced myself of this until a sharp fire flew into my lungs, and I remembered everything I’d told myself to forget, remembered my life and how things used to be, and how I’d never get to change. And I cried out, but I couldn’t hear my own voice, just the cold floor beneath me.
Time seemed to pass so slowly, because I still wasn’t dead when the footsteps returned. I ought to play dead, I thought. That way they won’t kill me again. But no one talked, no one said a word, and when strong arms lifted me and heavy breathing and a soft T-shirt carried me, I didn’t think about it.  I gave in to sleep. Or death. Whatever it was.
In my dreams it felt like I was awake, but something in me knew I wasn’t. I was lying in a soft hospital bed, IV’s stuck in my arms. I heard voices coming towards me and waited, wondering what turn my dream would take. The voices were men. Roy? Roy, had he come for me? Had he saved me? It felt unreal, and his footsteps came closer and closer and I could just see his face leaning over me.
Mystery guy?
Mystery guy coughed a little and stood upright again, then sat down in a chair next to my bed.
I saw him turn, and someone was walking towards him, with a leather jacket and dark jeans and dark hair and Chanel.
Roy.

And then…
“Ashely.” His voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear.
I cleared my head of all thoughts except for his words, in the memory I was remembering of the dream that wasn’t a dream…weird.
“I’m not going to get all mushy like in those hospital scenes in the movies,” He said.
“But please wake up, Ashely.”
“And I’m not going to say ‘I know you can do this’ because I have no idea what the heck you can do. Well, I do actually…I know that you can attack kidnappers with jewelry and throw cheese sticks across the room and take 40 minute showers and do your makeup real nice and laugh and smile and cry and love and die and sleep…”

“Anyway, back to my original point…maybe you can wake up, Ashely. Maybe you can. And if you can hear me, although you probably can’t because you’re asleep…well, if you can hear me, please do that…for me.”
“I went through all this trouble to help you, you know. You really pissed me off, Ashely. You were such a brat. But you weren’t just a spoiled brat, you know, I mean, you were a lot more than that, and I’m glad I know that now…”
“And I’m glad that you aren’t with them anymore, even though this isn’t exactly good either, you’re here, with me, and this is all my fault, because I started it all in the first place, and you just wanted to buy a watch for some sort of mystery guy, and who is that by the way? Because you told me you had a boyfriend but you were obviously lying…”
“Anyway, the real thing is…well the real point is, um, that you need to wake up, because I went through hell to save you and you are not going to die.”
Then he turned around, and walked swiftly and purposefully up to where I lay and kissed me on the forehead, and it just felt good, and safe, and who was I kidding, it was ROY, why was he kissing me, what the heck? When it happened I wasn’t surprised. Then he was gone. He didn’t actually leave, though. Blackness took over, and then light.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Chapter 6

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! My alarm rang shrill and high as early morning sunlight filtered through my window and onto my white plush carpeting. I felt numb lying in my bed, still remembering the dreams of last night. I had to write it down somewhere. I sat up hurriedly. A tremendous headache burst through me and I lay back down with a moan. Where was some paper and a pen? I was already beginning to forget…
It was then that there was a loud knocking on my door, and in stepped my dad. Since when was he around in the morning?
“What…why…?” I muttered.
“I have the week off,” He said cheerily. Something felt off about him.
“Really?” I replied, incredulous.
“Yup.” He grinned.
That was it. Daddy was never cheery.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” I snapped, my head still throbbing.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” He scratched his balding head, then turned to walk downstairs.
“Hurry up, you’ll be late for school.”
I wanted to punch him in the face for some odd reason. Why was he annoying me so much?
I grudgingly left my bed and walked over to my closet, ready to throw on the first thing I saw. But I couldn’t find anything. Too much pink and glitter and designer. I eventually came across an old black sweatshirt, jeans, and some converse. I didn’t even bother to put makeup on, just brushed my hair and I was out the door with some apsirin and keys.
“Bye,” I called.
No response. Figures, I thought to myself.
It was a beautiful day out. Sunlight, cool breeze, fresh air. I felt like I hadn’t been outside in ages. I spread my arms out wide and looked up into the sky, not knowing why I was doing so. Not knowing where I was going or what was happening, I just enjoyed the morning. I felt like I hadn’t enjoyed a good morning in a while. And I took the scenic route to school.

When I arrived, there were people everywhere, bright light, and noise. I suddenly felt very dizzy and stumbled over to a wall nearby, where I closed my eyes and tried to conjure up some sort of memory from the dream I’d had last night. But it was all gone. Something about it lingered, though. Something important. A flash of something that I couldn’t describe taunted my in my thoughts, begging me to remember.

“Ashely!” A loud, obnoxious voice interrupted my thoughts. Mackenzie.
“How are you?” She yelled above the commotion.
“Fine,” I replied quietly.
“Glad you’re back doll face!”
I I had been gone? Was I on a vacation? What the hell was going on? Why couldn’t I remember any of it? Some part of me told me that I had been gone for a while. The day felt cooler, the sky felt darker…
“I was gone?” I murmured.
“Huh?” Lindsay bellowed.
“Nevermind,” I said under my breath.
“So how was it?” She ran a hand through her freshly permed hair and smiled showing a brilliant array of white teeth.
“It was good,” I replied before I could think of what I was talking about.
Before she could respond, Layla and Betti had raced over and joined the group. Dear God, let me out of this torture, I moaned in my head.
“Oh my gosh, Ashely, you look so pale!” Layla squealed.
“Uh…thanks?”
“So glad you’re back!” Betti squeezed me tightly and quickly so as not to wrinkle her new shirt.
“Thanks…”
“Is she okay?” Layla whispered in Mackenzie’s ear, loud enough for me to hear clear as day.
“I don’t know,” Mackenzie replied.
It was kind of rude that they were talking about me right in front of my face.
“I don’t know either,” I announced sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
Layla looked confused and Mackenzie squinted at me.
The bell rang loudly signaling first period and I ditched the girls, racing to my locker to get my books and then on to Advanced Calculus. I wondered if Mystery Guy would be there. I should have asked Mackenzie if she had gotten with him yet, but somehow I didn’t really care.
Once in class, I pulled out my notebook and a pencil and, feeling suddenly very tired, I leaned my head against my hand and began to close my eyes. A face popped into my head so quickly and vibrantly that I blinked and sat up, wondering how that had happened. They had blonde hair and brown eyes…Mystery Guy? How did I remember his features so well…and that shirt. How did I know he wore a red t shirt?
And then there he was in front of me, walking through the door all casual and normal, and I stared at him, shocked, a chill running through me. He was wearing that red shirt. Now that I thought about it, he looked a bit stressed out and disheveled. He met my gaze and for a moment he just stood there, staring at me, confusion in his eyes, and mine. He opened his mouth to say something when I cut him off.
“That shirt just…really brings out your nose.“ I stuttered, then laughed nervously.
“I mean your eyes…”
 He forced a laugh, and walked to his seat, bewildered. I mentally punched myself.
“Everyone, take out last night’s exam review,” Mrs. Hawthorn said, entering the classroom with a chorus of moans.
I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. There had been an exam review for homework? I couldn’t even remember the last few days. I felt like I was going to throw up. My hands were suddenly freezing and they were shaking all over. I flipped open my notebook. And there it was. The exam review, done perfectly and neatly, the date on the little corner, November 11th.
“Nice job, Ashely,” Mrs Hawthorn interrupted my thoughts.
“You really seem to understand uniform theorems.”
I sighed and faked a smile. She moved on to Jackie Fertino’s paper and I leaned my head against my hand.
Memory losses, mysterious work being done, mysterious remembrances…what was happening to me? For some reason I felt like it had to do with Mystery Guy. Or George.
The other classes flew by…slowly. I found myself drifting off in most or not having a clue what was going on. By lunch I had gnawed off my fingernails and had a serious headache.
“Ashes!” Layla raced up to me. “Since your vacay we totally moved spots. That table by the flowers is ours!” She squealed.
I nodded and stumbled over to it, sitting down hastily and putting my head in my arms on the table.
“What is wrong with her?” Betti asked loudly and brattily, sitting down at the table. I felt the vibration as she slammed her vegan tofu&fat free cottage cheese lunch down.
“Don’t be mean, Betti,” Mackenzie had joined the group.
“She’s probably just missing that Carribean weather.”
  Carribean weather? I was befuddled.
“Right, Betti?” Mackenzie poked me deeply on the shoulder.
“Jeez Mackenzie, that hurt,” I snapped. “Do you have to be so annoying and intrusive?” I asked, sitting up and opening my eyes to the flabbergasted faces of my “friends”.
“What?” I muttered.
“What did you just say to me?” Mackenzie slammed down her lunch(an apple and a Luna bar) and glared at me through those fiery brown eyes.
I didn’t lower my gaze and as she glared at me, I stared back with an unwavering look of nonchalantness.
Finally she looked away, and I went back to staring at the table, since I had forgotten a lunch. But I wasn’t hungry.
Suddenly, Layla snickered. I looked up again, and followed her gaze to Charlotte, at the entrance to the lunch room. She was holding a Styrofoam tray of the Free Lunch that was given to those with lower incomes, and a huge mustard colored sweater. Betti joined in the laughter and Mackenzie smirked. I felt out of place, bored, and awkward. What was so funny about Charlotte again? I couldn't bring myself to laugh with the girls, I could only stare.
“Hey, Charlotte!“ Mackenzie called. “Come over here and sit!”
Charlotte walked towards our table, smiling.
I braced myself.
As soon as Charlotte sat down, there was a silence.
“Nice sweater,” Betti said, giggling.
Charlotte’s eyes flashed up, and straight into mine. I could see the deep blue swirls and the green flecks, and suddenly timed seemed to stop and I was sent reeling back into a memory.
He had light blue eyes, and tan skin, with black hair. He was pretty hot. I mentally punched myself for thinking that at a time like this.
"What's behind your back?" He asked, starting to walk towards me. His glare was icy cold, and I knew that I was going to die.
"Nothing," I choked out. He was almost at arms length from my now, and I knew that if I threw the jewels they would make contact.
Then, in a blast of motion, the woman who was waiting by the register raced towards the door. The robber with the gun whipped around and pulled the trigger.
As he turned away, my arm flew out and the jewels zipped through the air, landing on the side of his face…

“Ashely!” Mackenzie’s voice intruded upon my thoughts and I shook my head and sighed.

Chapter 5F

But it wasn’t him. The man didn’t have Roy’s dark shiny hair and deep blue eyes, the man had blonde hair and tanned skin and…
Mystery guy? What the…
I tried to say something but I couldn’t choke out any words. I just lay there in the dream, and watched.
Mystery guy(or George, now that I think about it) coughed a little and stood upright again, then sat down in a chair next to my bed.
I wanted to say something, let him know that I was there, but in the dream I couldn’t.
I saw him turn, and someone was walking towards him, with a leather jacket and dark jeans and dark hair and Chanel.
Roy?
I wanted to scream out, to thank him or just let him know I could see him, but I couldn’t. Why was mystery guy with Roy?
I tried to listen.
“She’s not waking up,” George murmured as Roy got closer, both of them standing over me.
“She’s in a coma?” Roy’s voice shook a little.
“Not exactly,” George replied.
“They say she should wake up, there’s a 60 percent chance.”
“So it’s a coma with 60% change of survival,” Roy admonished.
George shrugged and sat down.
I must look like a mess, I thought to myself. I’d had the same makeup on for weeks, and I was in a coma…
Why the hell am I think about this now? I mentally attack myself while I listen to their conversation further.
“What do you want to do?” Roy asked softly, as if he was trying to let me sleep.
“Just stay here until she wakes up.” George stood up and zipped up his sweatshirt. He looked tired and disheveled.
“Aren’t you the optimist.” Roy forced a chuckle and sat down by me.
“Just shut up,” George replied.
“You come into my house, you tell me this whole tale, and then you make me break into a kidnapper’s house to take his hostage and now you-”
“Whatever,” Roy muttered.
George shook his head and turned towards the exit.
“Call me when she wakes up,” He said.
“If.” Roy whispered.
“Huh?”
“Nevermind.”
George left.
Silence. It was strangely awkward having Roy stare at me when I couldn’t move. I knew he couldn’t see that I could see him, but still…
Roy wasn’t the type to get mushy like in those hospital scenes with the wife and the husband or the brother and the sister. After all, he was my kidnapper, so…
“Ashely.” His voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear.
I cleared my head of all thoughts except for his words.
“I’m not going to get all mushy like in those hospital scenes in the movies,” He said flatly.
“But please wake up, Ashely.”
“And I’m not going to say ‘I know you can do this’ because I have no idea what the heck you can do. Well, I do actually…I know that you can attack kidnappers with jewelry and throw cheese sticks across the room and take 40 minute showers and do your makeup real nice and laugh and smile and cry and love and die and sleep…”
He coughed.
“Anyway, back to my original point…maybe you can wake up, Ashely. Maybe you can. And if you can hear me, although you probably can’t because you’re asleep…well, if you can hear me, please do that…for me.”
“I went through all this trouble to help you, you know. You really pissed me off, Ashely. You were such a brat. But you weren’t just a spoiled brat, you know, I mean, you were a lot more than that, and I’m glad I know that now…”
“And I’m glad that you aren’t with them anymore, even though this isn’t exactly good either, you’re here, with me, and this is all my fault, because I started it all in the first place, and you just wanted to buy a watch for some sort of mystery guy, and who is that by the way? Because you told me you had a boyfriend but you were obviously lying…”
“Anyway, the real thing is…well the real point is, um, that you need to wake up, because I went through hell to save you and you are not going to die.” He said this firmly, though his voice wavered a little at the end. And then he stood up, and started to walk towards the door, and I felt like I was going to absolutely die right then and there.
Then he turned around, and walked swiftly and purposefully up to where I lay and kissed me on the forehead, and it just felt good, and safe, and who was I kidding, it was ROY, why was he kissing me, what the heck? But I wasn’t shocked or scared or disgusted. After all that I had been through, this was probably the strangest thing that had happened, yet also the most understandable, in a way. When it happened I wasn’t surprised. I felt like I had been waiting for Roy to change the whole time. To show that he cared about something. And now he had. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy, I mused. Maybe. Then he was gone. He didn’t actually leave, though. Blackness took over, and then light.

Chapter 5E

And then I attacked. I kicked, screamed, and slapped, bit, spit, and elbowed my way, and they were definitely caught by a bit of surprise. There were yells and I felt one of them release me from his death grip(no pun intended) and a little bit of hope filled me, for that one second, maybe I was lucky enough to get away. I tripped the other guy and he sprawled out on the cool tiled floor, and then I made a mad dash back around the corner, trying my hardest to get away, adrenaline rushing through my veins. And then I felt rough hands on my ankle, and I plunged onto the floor painfully. At least I had tried.
This time they took out a pair of handcuffs and leg shackles, with much protest on my part. But they still got it done, and shoved me forwards.
The guys cussed a couple of times, and rubbed their sore arms while dragging me along.
And then we were there. An empty room. Solid cold. Hit me as I entered. The two men held me down against the back wall, and I closed my eyes. The hands cut off the circulation in my arms, and my heart was beating so fast and hard and I was going to throw up, dizziness swirling through me like a tornado. Knowing I was going to die and actually being about to die were two different things. And I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I choked back tears, and a strange sort of calm set over me, because all I wanted was for it to be over, and I forced myself not to think of anything else but the white wall in front of me.
It was funny, I mused, that only the other day my biggest problem had been finding a watch for mystery guy, and now I was about to get shot. I wondered what Lindsay was doing right then, trying to keep my mind off of dying. She was probably talking to mystery guy right now, maybe they’d kissed already. Who knew.
Another man walked into the room, holding a vial of some strange liquid. I squirmed against the iron grip. And he walked slowly towards me, holding it out, and then he plunged it into my arm, and I felt it slowly entering my body, I could no longer see, or smell, I could only feel my body hitting the ground when their footsteps left, and their voices..
“Leave her there, she’ll die in ten minutes,”
“Okay, go tell them,”
And then silence.
I lay there, and I could literally feel my heart slowing down. But I wasn’t in pain, I was at peace. I was just…happy. It was over. And I convinced myself of this until a sharp fire flew into my lungs, and I remembered everything I’d told myself to forget, remembered my life and how things used to be, and how I’d never get to change. And I cried out, but I couldn’t hear my own voice, just the cold floor beneath me.
Time seemed to pass so slowly, because I still wasn’t dead when the footsteps returned. I ought to play dead, I thought. That way they won’t kill me again. But no one talked, no one said a word, and when strong arms lifted me and heavy breathing and a soft T-shirt carried me, I didn’t think about it.  I gave in to sleep. Or death. Whatever it was.
In my dreams it felt like I was awake, but something in me knew I wasn’t. I was lying in a soft hospital bed, IV’s stuck in my arms. I heard voices coming towards me and waited, wondering what turn my dream would take. The voices were men. Roy? Roy, had he come for me? Had he saved me? It felt unreal, and his footsteps came closer and closer and I could just see his face leaning over me.

300+ views and what the heck?

I don't know what happened.
Now my pageviews say 2 but yesterday they were in the 300's??? Can someone help me please. I'm flipping out. Thank you (:

Chapter 5D

It was breakfast. Eggs and a cup of water, not too bad, I thought. I was still very hungry afterwards. The waiting was hard. Just sitting and pondering one’s life when they know they are going to die isn’t easy. I tried not to think about it too much, but I couldn’t help it.
Hours ticked by, and I dozed off a couple of times, then relaxed and continued to sit in silence, not knowing what to do with myself.
It was night time when they came for me. Opened the door of my cell, thrust their way in, and dragged me out, and I didn’t give a fight, because I knew that would only make it worse.
I walked with them, one at each arm, as if we were going to a dance, and they were my dates. But instead I was going to die, and they were walking me there.
A small part of me wondered if this really was the end, perhaps they were just taking me for another interrogation, or the bathroom. But that was naïve and stupid, and I knew it was over, and I wasn’t going to get my hopes up with foolish thoughts.

There were twists and turns in the building, and I realized I was probably in the same building that I’d been in before, but on a different floor. And as I continued to walk, I thought to myself, what’s the bother? Why not try to fight? Why not give them a hard time? I would never have the chance again.
We turned another corner, and I recognized it as the one where I had heard Roy talking to the boss, except the wallpaper was a blue-green color. How cheerful. I waited for them to turn the next corner, because that was where an escape would be easiest.

Chapter 5C

“Is she awake?” Someone yelled, with a chorus of “YES!” and “she’s awake!” responses. What was going on?
“Where am I?” I muttered sleepily, wanting to get back to that room full of light.
“Our interrogation room,” the middle aged man on the left, said. I squinted at his name tag, and made out the word Stanley. I didn’t have my contacts in, and that sort of accounted for the blurriness of it all. But I could still see what was reasonably close, so escaping could be an alternative…
“Welcome, Ashely. Since you so recently decided to escape our premises, we need to do a full recovery and find out any breaches in our security, so that nothing of this kind can happen again, as well as your motives for escaping and your thoughts of our services.”
Services? Did he think it was a hotel?
The other man, whose name was Roger, looked up at my sour expression and sighed. He typed something into his laptop, and my stomach growled. I was famished now, having not eaten for a day, and I decided I would not answer any questions until I got some food.
I did not have to put up much of a fight, however, because Stanley raised his left arm and there was a huge bowl of soup in front of me. Not giving much thought to as if there was some sort of poison in it, I devoured the concoction eagerly. It tasted like beef and peas and garlic, and I desperately wanted more when I was finished.
“You can get more to eat when we are through,” Roger said in a rather airy tone. The people in white suits had stopped moving around and watched from both sides of the small room.
“Okay,” I agreed grudgingly, prepared to answer random questions in return for some more soup.
“First question. What is your name?”
“Ashely Solovan,” Was my prompt response.
“Have you ever had any near death experiences?” He inquired.
I thought back to when I had almost stepped in a bee hive when I was six years old, but that was stupid. And then there was the other robbery, when I was with Daddy, but for some reason I didn’t think that would be good to bring up, so I said, “No, I have not.”
“How did you manage to escape from your captivity one week ago?”
One week ago? One week?! It had only been yesterday that I was in the forest…what had happened in that one week time? I was dreaming? In a coma? I was so bewildered, I forgot his question.
“You’ve been asleep in our holding room for a week, Ashely Solovan. Now, tell us how you escaped.”
“I, um, ran out the door…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to implicate Roy for anything. He had saved my life, after all. And that was another mystery. Where was Roy? And why did he do it?
“We had a guard by your door at all times, as well as your door being bolted shut.” Roger rubbed his forehead.
“I…knocked out the guard with my shoe, and…someone forgot to lock the door…” I picked at a loose string on my white robes.
Stanley typed this down. “That would have been Roy,” He muttered to Roger. I listened to their conversation intently.
“Have we punished him yet?” Roger asked. I winced.
“No,” Stanley muttered, “We can’t find him.”
I didn’t know if I should be relieved or upset. If Roy was gone, it meant that I would never see him again. And he would never know that I would have died in vain of his attempts. And I would never thank him, or find out why he’d done what he did…but if he was gone, it also meant that he was safe, for now, and he wasn’t dead, as I had feared in the back of my mind.
“Thank you, Ashely.” Stanley cleared his throat, and looked at me. I felt like he was looking into me, like everything inside of me was laid out onto that white table.
“Take her.”
Silence.
A gasp.
My mouth parted, the breath leaving it.
Slow motion.
Bright light, fake light.
Two men, with big hands. Walking forwards, grabbing me.
Pulling me away.
From that room with the fake light.
To the dark.
It was all over. And a wave of emotions hit me like a train. Sadness, fear, anger, and that one fiery emotion, love.
Which sounds kind of strange, why would I be thinking about love when I was about to die?
But all I could see, hear, and feel was love, and how much I loved my life, and everyone and everything that made it my life, not the material things, like the fashion line or the makeup, but the real things, the real light in my life, the relationships I formed, the things I learned, and the passions I’d harbored, would all amount to nothing. They’d be dust, useless and forgotten, and I would be dead, and no one would really care.
Even though I’d been popular, no one would care if I died, except for a good thing to gossip about. The girls would care a little, but our friendship was never real.
And Daddy. He would care, but not enough.
I couldn’t help wondering if Roy would care. Maybe the only person who would care just the right amount. Which was crazy, because he’d had this happen. In fact, he’d laughed about it. Joked about it. Smiled when I hurt most, and turned away when I cried. But perhaps it was a mask. Perhaps I’d never really known what Roy was feeling, and I never would know.
Even if he’d caused my death, he’d shown me what my life meant. And now that I knew what it meant, I wanted to do something with it. And I couldn’t.

Their hands clenched my arms at the same exact moment, pulling me towards the door, and I was dragged along, trying to fight, but without enough energy, delirious, almost half asleep, yelling “What about the soup?” that Stanley had promised me, still hungry, starting to weep. I was a mess.
They forced me into this little room, a cage, with bars on all sides, and 6 locks. There was a hardwood bench in the corner, and cold gray tiles under my still bare feet. They shoved me in, and I curled up into a ball on the wooden bench, tears falling down my face and loud crying that I couldn’t suppress finding it’s way up my throat. I tried to push away thoughts of anything I’d ever had, trying to think happy thoughts. At least it would be over, I reasoned. At least all this tension and waiting would be over, and soon I could be dead, and maybe I’d go to heaven, and maybe nothing would happen, and I would never feel again.
I fell asleep crying once again, and it was dreamless. I’d been hoping for that room of light and warmth and floating, that one little haven of peace that I had managed in this destruction.
And the next day, when I opened my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to be ready. Tried to be ready because I deserved all of this suffering. Tried to be ready because soon it would be over, and I wouldn’t have to worry about anything I’d done to anyone because I’d never feel their pain again.
I heard keys at the door of my cage and looked up, wondering if it was breakfast, or my demise.

Another awesome song and a survey

Okay, so I can't post anything new for 2 days. I know. It sucks. Majorly. I can't add to my story for 2 days because it's on my computer, and I'm not with my computer right now, I'm on my laptop. I promise that on Monday there will be some new additions, though, guys! (: Until then, I'm just gonna do some random posts about the story, I hope you don't mind. REMEMBER, COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME! I really want to know what everyone thinks of this. ;P

So, to encourage you guys to message me and stuff further, I made this: http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/WKZWNB6

The one problem with this survey as that you can only enter once...
which is why you can also message me on stardoll.com(of course)
Andddddd
I have an email...

simplebeauty42@gmail.com, message me there. 

Okay, thanks you guys. I WANT TO HEAR YOUR OPINIONS. Even if there's only like, 2 readers, just tell me what you think! (: Okay, bye :D


 Another perfect theme song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnFy1luxL0A

200+ hits & theme songs

YAYYY YOU ARE ALL SO AMAZING! Remember to send me any feedback or suggestions that you want to happen. I have a basic story line, but I can add some things (: 

And here's a couple of songs that I thought would make an amazing soundtrack to different parts of My Perfect Boyfriend:

Safe and Sound- Taylor Swift

Kill our Heroes-AWOLNATION

Our Time is Running Out- Muse

And of course...a k-pop song...cuz I love k-pop..don't worry, it's not Gangnam Style ;)

Hate You- 2ne1*

And if you love any of these artists/bands then CONTACT ME and tell me about it! And if you have any other songs that you think go well with the story then CONTACT ME as well! Just comment here or message me on stardoll.

*I also love lots of different kpop artists such as bigbang and snsd so talk to me about them too k bye!

Chapter 5C

And it was like that, me walking, stopping, starving, and freezing. There had to be civilization on the other side, right? It had gotten darker out, and I knew soon it would be night time, and I would have to stop. I would probably be dead by the morning, I thought. It was too dark, too cold, for me to live. But oh well. I’d rather die out here on my own free will, than be killed by someone else. So I settled down on the ground underneath a tree, and lay my long, now oily blonde hair onto the ground.

And so when morning came, the sun shining yet again onto my face, warmth covering my frozen body, relief coursed through me and I got up, ready to go on and find my way home. It was then that I heard voices. And loud, crunching footsteps. I found a large tree and hid behind it, listening as hard as I could.
“She has to be out here somewhere,” A gruff man muttered.
“Stop groaning and moaning,” Another gruff man replied.
“Why? First I’m freezing, and then Sara just broke up with me, I’m not going to be in the best mood.”
“Don’t be such a softy, Charlie, Sara was ugly anyway.”
“Don’t you-” Charlie began.
“GUYS! Look!” Another man butted in. Gosh, were there any women in the mobster unit? How sexist. I relaxed a little against the tree. They wouldn’t find me.
“What?” Footsteps came closer.
“It’s a strand of hair. Blonde too. I think she’s nearby.”
“Really?” Came a sarcastic reply.
Oh god, they were right on the other side of the tree. I was done for. It was over. I had to run for it. I could hear them turning, to pass me, so see me…
I bolted. Straight forwards, not know which direction I was going, I flew forwards as fast as I could. I could hear them giving chase, their loud boots much better to run with than my bare feet. They were gaining on me, I could just tell, and when I stepped on a thorn and yowled in pain and stopped for that split second, I knew it was over.
I could feel the sharp pain on the back of my head before I saw black, the cold earth rising up as if to catch me, and then nothing.
I was floating, in a red dress, and it was billowing out around me, light filling the space, shining through the dress, and glimmering. And it was warm. Warm and cozy and so relaxing, I just let my arms fly out and feel it, knowing it would soon be over. I felt no weight; just light and air and space. I turned in the air, spun and spun and spun but didn’t get dizzy. And when the light began to fade, my dress ceased to billow, it got colder and colder, and I felt gravity push me down like a ton of bricks to the cold floor, and total darkness, like a sea, pulled me under.

When I opened my eyes it was a blur. People in white suits were rushing around, and I was in this all white room, with a huge white desk in the middle and two middle aged men on computers. What the hell? I put my hand to my head, and it was throbbing, I could practically feel the vibrations. I was sitting in a hard plastic white chair, in front of the two men, with about 4 feet of space between us. I was dressed in these white robes, silk and very smooth, but I was freezing, and I would give anything for that sweater. Well, I was done for. My one chance of freedom, and I had been captured. I wasn’t even scared anymore, just tired. With no hope left, knowing the end was near, my body couldn’t create anything but this dense, depressed feeling.

Chapter 5B

When I was little, I had a nanny. Her name was Johanna and she was from Louisiana. She always cared for me since Daddy was never around, and it was in those months when I was 4 years old, right after my mother had died. She had a tired, worn face, but her smile made her so beautiful. I loved her so much, she was like the mother I never had. And I don’t want to get all sentimental, but she was my everything. And then Daddy fired her because she had a sick sister in Louisiana and she couldn’t work full time anymore. And Daddy wasn’t this heartless person…he just didn’t understand. But Johanna used to always tell me, ‘there’s always a way out, if there’s a way in.’ And I wouldn’t really listen, just laugh and ask silly questions. I don’t know why it mattered so much, but at that moment all I could think about Johanna and what she would do. And she would find a way. There had got to be a way. The universe couldn’t just kill me off now, not let me live my life or fix what I’ve done. What kind of crappy novel would that me? Spoiled popular girl gets killed by mobster slave traders. A real best seller.
And so I turned to see the rest of the room, if there was another door or something, but there wasn’t. Just chairs. Otherwise it was empty. I only had one option. I raced and picked up a chair, and holding it over my head, I brought it down with a crash though the glass of the window. It shattered beneath the chair. And flinging the chair aside, I stepped through the window and ran towards the forest.

I had only stopped running when I could feel the cold sticks and grass beneath my bare feet, the dense woodland surrounding me, and the sky behind a mass of green leaves. Hopefully they couldn’t find me here. I felt like I had been running for hours, even days, circling back and making twists and turns so that my trail would be to complicated to follow. But I was still worried, still terrified, that they would come and just kill me this time instead of bothering with some other alternative.
I realized, then, that I was starving, too, and the immense pain in my stomach wasn’t helping anything. I had no idea what I was supposed to eat out here in the middle of the woods, so I decided I would try to make my way through them, and perhaps there would be civilization on the other side.
Wow, it really was frigid out there. As time passed, my feet felt numb from the cold air. I had to sit down. So I found a little patch of sunlight and sat there, bundling my feet into the huge sweater, wishing I’d had the decency to put shoes on.

Chapter 5A

        Should I try to escape? I thought. Well, the windows are bolted shut, and the door’s locked…
Wait a second…
Hold on…
What if the door was open? What if Roy left it open? I thought back to it again…
He said slowly. “Just remember…the door’s wide open…”
“No it’s not!” I yelled.
But he just turned, walked straight out the door, and slammed it shut. I could hear his footsteps retreating away, one last time…
And then it came to me. Roy hadn’t locked the door. In fact, he’d told me it was open. I’d thought he’d been talking about it in a metaphorical sense, but perhaps he was telling the bold truth and leaving it hidden in plain sight…or hearing…
What are you doing, Ashely? THE DOOR IS OPEN. ESCAPE! And I ran to the door and was about to turn the knob when it all came crashing down.
However clever Roy’s ‘riddle’ had been, he had forgotten that I had no idea how to get out of this place. I didn’t even know what floor I was on. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my sweater and leaned against the door with a sigh. The crumpled paper was still in there, and it scraped my knuckles, giving me a paper cut. I began to curse and angrily pulled it out and opened it, ready to rip it up with a vengeance.
But when I opened it, it wasn’t an interview…it wasn’t even an interview response. It was a grid with numbers and letters and words. Wow, Roy’s an idiot, I thought. He couldn’t even give me the correct paper to give to my slave-traders.

        Then it hit me. That piece of paper…was a map. A MAP. I just had to find where I was and leave and…why would Roy save me? Well, it didn’t matter now. I flung open the door and sure enough, the guard was knocked out. I knew there were probably cameras everywhere, so I ran as fast as I could, using the map as a guide, seeing the numbers on the halls and finding my way to the stairs. I jumped down each flight, flying down until I saw the number one on a door. I burst through it, my feet tingling, my heart racing, with no thoughts but GET OUT. I saw a door, I saw a huge window to the cold snow-coated outdoors, and ran to it. I could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, coming to take me, from myself. And the door wouldn’t open. It was jammed. I banged it and banged it and it wouldn’t open. And smashed it with my feet, the footsteps getting closer, desperate now, tears running down my face, they were probably on the second floor now, about to come and see me…

Chapter 5

Days passed. Roy came in, asked questions, watched me sleep, the room got colder and colder and I felt worse and worse, eating cereal for practically every meal and singing old 90’s songs in my spare time. It wasn’t just boring. It was far worse. Because I knew that when this suffering was over, more suffering would begin, as I would be some slave-wife-person and I would probably die and never see my family again.
It was a frigid Wednesday morning when everything seemed to change. Roy came in and sat down like usual, and I prepared for 3 hours of sitting around, when he spoke.
“They’re going to take you away from here,” He said in a hoarse voice.
I should be surprised, I thought. “What?”
“You’re going to be put into a slave trade.” He said each word slowly, as if he couldn’t believe it. But I knew he’d been processing this for a week now.
“WHAT?!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs, doing the best acting possible. Then I began to breathe heavily. It wasn’t that hard to pretend to be scared or startled. It was today that my life would change forever. Or end. I was ready. But not ready enough.
Roy handed me a thick white sheet of paper that was folded 4 times. “This is your… interview response. You have to give it to the…to the people that take you.”
I took the paper and stuffed it into my pocket without reading it, crumpling it. Roy winced.
Why was he so upset about some dumb piece of paper that I had to give to my slave-traders?
“I’m sorry.” His voice was almost emotionless, but his eyes flickered. Did he actually care, or was he a talented actor? And why would he be apologizing to me? It’s his fault I got into this mess in the first place.
“They’ll be picking you up in the next 5 minutes. It’s my fault this is happening to you,” He said slowly. “Just remember…the door’s wide open…”
“No it’s not!” I yelled.
But he just turned, walked straight out the door, and slammed it shut. I could hear his footsteps retreating away, one last time… I stood there stunned, not knowing what I should be feeling.
It’s all over, I thought. I’d never see Daddy or Betti or Layla or Mackenzie or Charlotte or mystery guy or even Roy again.
I decided the best thing to do was sit and wait. I took deep breaths, wondering if I was being watched. Well, obviously. There must be some sort of recording camera or device in here. I didn’t want to seem too nervous or upset, it would only give them pleasure.
What the heck did Roy even mean, ‘the door is wide open’? Who was he, some old Japanese haiku-writer? I went back in my mind to our exchange, him coming in, handing me the paper, saying ‘just remember, the door’s open’, and leaving… who did he think I was?
Time seemed to pass slowly, the minutes going by like months. I couldn’t figure Roy out. He seemed like this horrid guy, and then he gave me advice on how to be as a person.
Yeah right, like that door was even open. I couldn’t go back to anyone ever again, so how could I change as a person with the snap of my fingers?

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Chapter 4D

“Any siblings?”
“No.”
“How tall are you?”
“5’6.”
“Weight?”
I frowned.
“120.”
“What do you look for in a guy?” Still confused as to where these questions were going, I thought about it.
“Someone who understands me. Who isn’t afraid of who they are. Someone honest, and brave. Someone who can make me laugh and make me cry if they’re away. Someone who has manners, who loves uncontrollably, who will open my eyes to life. Someone who really cares about themselves, and about other people. Not just some conceited jock with no brains, basically.
Someone who can save me from desperate situations, but knows that I‘m strong, too. Someone who respects me, who loves to smile…” I took a deep breath after that speech.
“Wow, someone’s got high expectations.” Roy bit his lip to stifle laughter at his own stupid comment and wrote out my response. He had dark circles under his eyes, I noticed, as he turned to write. And there was stubble on his cheeks as if he hadn’t bothered to shave.
“Well, you were brought up like that,” He remarked casually. “Everything you could ever want, pampered and spoiled and now you’re…that.”
“Do you really think that?” I asked seriously. Why did he have to do that? Tear me down, make me feel awful about myself. There was more to me than that rich, spoiled, popular stereotype. I was going to die anyway, it didn’t matter.
He looked straight into my eyes, startled that I had responded in that manner.
“That’s what I see.” He stood up with his clipboard and papers.
I looked into my lap in a melancholy trance as he walked towards the door.
“People are more than they look like.” He swallowed.
“The door’s wide open for you to show everyone that you’re not like that,” He said quietly.
“You just have to walk through.”
 He stood there for a minute, gazing at me, and then left, and locked the door.
And how did Roy know so much about me? He was a darned kidnapper, a mean, hard, cold man who wanted nothing but money and hated the world. And me. So why would it matter to him who I really was? And why did it matter to me that he thought these things? Frustrated and confused, I lay back on the sofa and readied myself for tomorrow. What if I died tomorrow? I asked myself. I’d tried to push that question away, but it kept nagging. What if I died tomorrow, and I never got to spend more time with Daddy, or stand up to Mackenzie, or even be nicer to Charlotte, since she didn’t deserve what we said to her. No one deserved it. No one deserved to be kidnapped either. Or maybe not. I deserve this, I thought sorrowfully. I deserve it because I don’t deserve my dad or my friends or my popularity or my clothes or my makeup. I don’t deserve any of it because I suck as a person. And resolute that I was going to get what was coming to me, I cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 4C

“7432 Cherry Foster Estate,” I said resignedly, picking at a finger nail, dread coursing through me. Now, even if I did miraculously find a way out, they would know where to find me. And kill me.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” What kind of question was that?! What kind of slave was I going to be? Would I have to marry a Mormon or something?
“Yes,” I lied, trying my hardest not to make it look like I was. Roy was probably pretty good at detecting lies too. Well, maybe if they thought I had a boyfriend they wouldn’t want me to be a slave…? It didn’t add up, but I didn’t want them to know anything about me, so I didn’t tell the truth.
“Name?”
“What?”
“Name of your boyfriend?” He said in a bored tone.
“George.” I blurted out mystery guy’s name before I could stop myself. Great.
“And last name?”
Oh dear…what would his last name be? I couldn’t exactly make that up…
“I don’t know.” I said icily.
“And why don’t you know the full name of your love interest?” Roy picked at the corner of one of the sheets of paper.
“Um, it’s, uh, long, and hard to remember. Something German.”
Mystery guy looked pretty German, right? His blue eyes, light skin…
“Are you in love?”
In love with mystery guy? Heck no. I’d never even talked to him. But should I lie? And what kind of question was that, anyway? I wasn’t here to visit a shrink.
“Yes.” I lied again.
“What do you value most in your life?”
Oh yeah, I should totally tell them that. So they could take it away. What’s something I really don’t value? I thought to myself.
“My fashion line.” I wasn’t totally lying; the fashion line did mean a lot to me, I worked on it pretty hard. But it wasn’t the most important thing in my life. What was that? A week ago, it might have been popularity. Or my money. Maybe my jeweled necklace collection. But things had changed. If I lost all of those things but had the people I loved and my home back, I would be elated. What I valued most in my life, was my life. And by that I meant everything that made me, me. And maybe I hadn’t always made being myself my first priority, being myself the right way. Maybe I did always let Mackenzie trample me and maybe I was judgmental and rude and arrogant and shallow and spoiled like Roy had said…but if I could go back, I would change that.

Roy snickered at my reply, and I faked an indignant glare. He was pretty gullible, I mused. But I was also being recorded, and other people could probably tell I was lying…or not be quite so happy to believe.

Chapter 4B

Where did I live? I couldn’t tell them where I lived! Well, who’s address would make sense? Someone who lived near the Swarovski? I immediately thought of Charlotte, but something inside me told me no. And then there was Mackenzie. She lived right behind Charlotte. She always toilet-papered her house for Halloween. No. I couldn’t say either of them. What if it put them in danger?
“If you’re thinking of lying, we already know where you live, we just ask these questions as a formality,” Roy interjected upon my wild thoughts.

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Chapter 4A

“Are you okay?” He asked, alarmed. I guessed that if I became fatally ill under his watch he would be blamed for it.
“Yeah, like you care.” I tried to relax, took deep breaths, and the sick feeling faded a little.
He sighed and looked away, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Why did people do things like this? Hurt people, kidnap people, steal, hate, lie. Why couldn’t everything just be perfect?
“I need the money.” He turned back to me then, his eyes searching my face, and he didn’t seem all that intimidating anymore, just desperate and lost.
I didn’t know what to say to him then, because I didn’t think I was supposed to be having a heart to heart with my kidnapper. So I nodded once, and looked away.

“You miss your friends, your popularity?” He inquired. He didn’t sound so obnoxious like last time when I’d broke down before him, so I responded.
“Yeah.” I thought, my friends, but I didn’t really care about the popularity. I would gladly be in Charlotte’s position and have my life back than die a slave girl.
“It wasn’t protocol to take you,” He said to me then.
“Oh yeah? You just wanted to inflict the pain?”
“No.” His voice was hard and cold.
“Then why-”
“It was protocol to kill you.” He stood up then, and glanced at his watch. “I think it’s time for the interviews.”
This didn’t surprise me as much as I thought it would. I had already heard him talking to his boss outside and trying not to have me killed. Killing me first would have saved them a lot of trouble. Roy must not be on very good terms with the organization, I thought.
I decided that I ought to feign a look of shock and horror anyway, as Roy didn’t know that I had heard his conversation. So I gasped and swallowed hard. It seemed pretty believable. Roy opened the door and shut it, and I heard him locking it from the outside. No more eavesdropping tonight. How would I ever get away?

And what were the interviews? Did every slave have to have some sort of bio? I hadn’t quite grasped it all yet. Would I have to do labor? I felt like dying right then and there.

A few minutes later, Roy came back in with a camera and a sheet of paper and clipboard. “What’s that for?” I asked, even though I knew.
“We’re supposed to interview you. Get to know more about you.”
“Why in hell would you want to know more about me?” I snapped, even though I knew the answer.
“So we can see if you’re going to tell other people or not, I suppose,” He lied through his teeth.
He was a good liar, swift at coming up with a reasonable response, and no change in his body language that would indicate his motives. I was always good at detecting when someone was lying, back at school. I would often know if one of the jocks was cheating on me just by the way he said he was catching a movie with his friends later. Mackenzie and the girls always said it was creepy, but I was a businessman’s daughter, I had to know if I was being cheated.
Today Roy’s black hair was more up and to the side, messier than usual as he had been tossing and turning and worrying about something. Maybe he actually had a conscience, I pondered, and felt bad about my imminent fate.
“Ashely!” He yelled, and I looked up, startled.
“What is your full name?”
“Ashely Solovan.”
“Where do you live?”