This is for the reviewers. You deserve it. Sorry it took me so long.

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Chapter Seven: Beginning of the Search

Did I ever mention I hate driving? Well I do, terribly. All the signs you must follow, all of the different pathways and streets and roads and directions and nonsense. It just doesn't make sense. Why five routes? Why not just one? People get lost that way, you know. People like me. I tried to tune into someone's thoughts as I entered just another major highway. All I knew was that I had entered Utah already, and was trying to get into Salt Lake City.

Next exit and into Salt Lake... finally, a woman breathed. I didn't want to look over and see who, for I feared I might completely swerve off the road.
The drive being long and tedious, this I knew I'd have to deal with. But who knew it could be so expensive. I gobbled up every snack I'd brought with me, and was hungry pretty much every few hours. I would never get to her at this rate.
Driving had gotten slightly better, though I didn't see how it could get any worse. I had never been one to sit in one place for too long, and with the task of what I had to do always on my mind, the hours seem to lengthen by the minute. Keep going, keep going, keep going, I murmured to myself. Not much longer until you are where you have to be.

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This wasn't how I pictured it. I was sure I was on my way to the right place. I was sure I was going exactly where I needed to be. How did it get like this? What led up to this?
All I had done was get tired and pull over onto a deserted street as night pulled over me. How was I supposed to know that a place that could look so inviting would turn into the exact opposite?
"Why are you here?" a dark, clouded voice rang in my ear.
Had I just passed out?
My eyes were jacked up, my vision foggy. I couldn't remember the last time I'd drank some water as I lifted my hand to feel my parched, dry throat.
"I expect you to answer me!" the voice rang again, and before I could take note of what was happening, a hard, blunt object blew its way right into the square of my face, nearly knocking me unconscious again.
"I... I don't know. What's going -- " but a strong, firm hand made its way around my throat, threatening to choke me harder than it was already.
"Answer the question," the man forced. I couldn't believe his voice could manage to be so incredibly deep.
"I'm telling you," I answered, then stopped mid-sentence. Around my midriff, a rope was present, tying me to a chair. What had happened?
"How did I get here?" I asked, the anger rising in my blood, the fury burning the cells within every inch of my body.
"I'll ask the questions you son of a worthless bitch," he spat -- literally spat -- at my face. "Tell me," he breathed, so close to my face that the liquor bouncing off of his breath literally made me want to vomit right there, "what were you doing parked on our side of the street at two in the morning?" I could feel the blood running from my nose, cascading down to my lips. I didn't dare open my mouth, but I felt I must. How else would I be able to get out of here without becoming another beating bag?
"I...," I mumbled, "I was falling asleep," I whispered. I felt my eyes stinging with not fear, but subtle sadness. I had always been ready to defend myself when being called rude names, but never when it came to this kind of abuse. I bit my bloody-covered lip. I was a man now. I had to learn to deal with it. "What's your problem?" I pressed.
The man leaned back, standing straight at his full-length. I looked up at him now, not with fear, but with disgust and hatred. I truly hated this man. He wanted to destroy me -- he wanted to keep me from doing what I was supposed to, and for that, I hated him.
He rolled up his sleeves, and I would not prepare myself for another blow. "Don't touch me," I whispered with so much venom in my voice it surprised even myself. Looking up, the man gave me a look I was unsure about -- clearly he was surprised, but there was something else under that facade of a mask. There was something sincerely suspicious about him that I couldn't put my finger on.
Then, without warning, he smiled down at me. Leaning forward, he stood around me, and unloosened the tie that was holding my hands behind the chair. Once free, I pulled them back where they should have been, and stretched. All kinds of popping noises erupted from my knuckles.
"Hmm," he grumbled. He stood underneath a nearby light, and I realized he was completely bald. A poor mustache hung above his lips; he wasn't the most attractive guy around, and when he smiled, I shivered. I realized it was not something he was used to doing.
"We could use someone like you, boy," he muttered, still whispering. "Come with me." And he began to walk into a dark tunnel, not looking behind him.
I stood up, ready to escape the opposite way. "The only place I'm going," I said, "is back to Bella!"
And I ran. I ran and ran until I was sure he had no clue where I was, or where I was going, or what I was after. There were two routes to get out of that small opening of a room; he had gone one way, and I had gone the other. Somehow, I'd find my way back to the car.
Somehow, I'd figure out how to escape.