I told you all I'd finish (: apparently how I worded it last time made it sound like I wouldn't finish, but I promised I would just for all you amazing readers. This is the final chapter. I am considering writing an epilogue. If I get enough feedback about wanting one I'll sit down and write it, but if not, this will be the final chapter.

I just want to thank you all so much for reading this. Over 800 reviews, 200 followers. I have no idea where I ever even deserved all these wonderful reviews. You all have helped so much with my writing over these years, and I will continue writing. This story is over. I hope it does some justice to the story. I have always been really bad at ending, so I hope this one doesn't disappoint too much.

Thank you again. You all are literally the best. Thank you for making this story what it was. This is all for you.

Chapter Forty: In The End

All I know time is a valuable thing

Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings

Watch it count down to the end of the day

The clock ticks life away

It's so unreal, didn't look out below

Watch the time go right out the window

Trying to hold on but didn't even know

Wasted it all just to watch you go

In The End: Linkin Park

Dirt floor.

That's the first thing I noticed when I finally came to. An awful smell of rotting flesh soon followed my first discovery to which I had to cover my mouth to keep from gagging. Slowly, I sat up from the dirty floor to gather my bearings. A painful wrench of my side made me stop. I collapsed back to the floor, grabbing at the pain, wanting it to stop immediately. When I pulled my fingers away there was fresh blood dotting them.

"Maybe I'm the smell of rotting flesh," I said grimly.

"No, that'd be the guy in the corner."

Even though my entire body screamed no, I jumped up from the ground and scuttled over to the closest wall, keeping my eyes peeled in the semi-darkness hanging over the muggy room.

"Who are you?"

A small girl, no older than eight, shifted into view in the corner opposite of me. Her long brown hair hung down her face in thick, scraggly pieces obscuring the two wide-set brown eyes peering out at me with interest. She held her pale hands up in front of her, showing me that she was in no way threatening. I stayed securely in my corner. She may be little but she was still a threat until proven not.

"Who are you?" I asked again. This time my eyes flickered around the rest of the room. I saw the "guy in the corner" that the girl had referred to. My hand flew to my mouth again as I looked at the guy lying on his side, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, with flies circling his decaying body. Dried blood stained the floor underneath him.

"You're different than I imagined you to be," the girl said, drawing to full height, which wasn't very tall, and stepping toward me.

"Different?" I said, trying to hide the nervous twitch in my throat. "What would you ever have imagined me as?"

She continued her slow stepping, keeping her hands out in front of her. "More like me."

I raised my eyebrows and stopped the fidgeting of my hands to look up at her fully. Her skin was sickly white like she hadn't seen the sun properly in months. Blue veins swam underneath the pasty surface that I almost feared her skin was so thin that it would disintegrate away if touched improperly.

"Why would I be like you?"

The girl paused once she reached me, crouching down so that her hallowed looking face was inches from mine. I held my breath as she peered at me unblinkingly. "Isn't it obvious?"

I shook my head.

She sat back on her haunches, continuing to gaze at me with unwavering eyes.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Mel."

"Well, I guess it's nice to meet you. I'm Mitchie."

"I know," she said, sitting down on the floor and placing her hands in her lap. All the sudden she seemed much more comfortable in my presence, not that she was ever uncomfortable with me. Her wide eyes told me she was much more interested in just looking at me than actually saying anything which bothered me slightly.

"How do you know me? Why are we here?"

"Oh, this is where I live."

I looked around at the room again. There were no windows and only one door that stood at the top of a long staircase. The walls were made of gray cement and held a faint trace of mildew and grime. A small bed made of a thin sheet covering two lumpy pillows sat against the far wall. It looked more like a dog bed than a bed for a person let alone a child. One chair stood in the middle of the room, not far from where the dead man was currently lying. Other than that the room held no trace of it actually being livable. The only place I could think of that we would be was a basement. But a basement of where, I had no clue.

"Why would you live here? It's a bit dirty. Do dead people usually live in your house?"

A small giggle escaped her mouth, and for the first time, I thought of her as a little girl, not some boarded up freak in a basement. "Not usually," she said, "only when they make Daddy angry. He will be gone by tomorrow."

"Mel, why do you live here? Why am I here?"

"This is my room. It's a lot bigger than the room I used to have. I couldn't even stand up in there. This is actually much better, lots more room to move."

A rumbling overhead stopped Mel short of her rambling. Her brown eyes shot to the ceiling, fear emanating from them. She trained her eyes quickly back on me, and then shot back over to her corner with the bed. The jingling of a lock rang from the staircase. Whoever was up there was coming down. I looked around in fear. There was absolutely nowhere to hide.

"I would pretend you were asleep," her small voice sounded far away. "It's usually better that way."

I struggled forward to the spot I thought I had woken up from and curled my legs up into my body, holding my breath, as the door above opened and allowed a splash of bright light to flood the darkness. The steps were loud, banging down the stairs without a care. The unmistakable smell of alcohol filled the entire room, clouding my senses and reminding me of darker times.

A shadow passed over my closed eyes and lingered for a couple moments as whomever it was stood over me, contemplating. Then a gruff familiar voice rang through the room, filing me with immediate dread. "Has she woken yet girl?"

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I listened to Mel answer him. "No Daddy, she's just been sleeping like before."

I nearly choked on the spit collecting in the side of my mouth. Thoughts raced through my mind as I processed the fact that Mel was a child of my father's, which meant she was in some way related to me. I had a living, breathing sibling and never even knew about her. This got me thinking if there were any other random siblings hanging out in dark basements somewhere in Ohio or even other states across the country.

My thought process stopped as a swift kick to my side proved that I was still alive yet pretending to snooze. I kept my eyes shut tight, not wanting to show him that I was awake. Who knows what would happen if he knew I was actually awake? I do let a soft groan escape my mouth, that seems like an involuntary action whether awake or not. I feel the presence of a body bend closer to inspect me. Their cold and rough hands grab at my face, twisting it from side to side.

"Keep an eye on her," he said to someone behind him and dropped my head so that it smacked against the floor with a loud crack. Pain immediately flared up in my temple. "As for you Mel, I don't want you talking to her when she wakes. I will put you in confinement if I need to."

"I won't talk to her, Daddy" squeaked Mel quietly.

His large hand reached back down and grabbed at my stinging face again. He smacked my cheek in what he probably thought was a gentle tap but really could have rivaled that of a punch. "And I'll be seeing you soon, darling. It's been too long." His voice was close to my ear, and I forced my face to remain impassive despite the retching feeling that wanted to erupt out of my stomach.

The shadow lifted, and the footsteps were heard traipsing back up the stairs. Once the click of the door closed and the definite shift of a lock was in place, I counted to twenty and then opened my eyes. Mel was already scooting back over to where I laid on the floor; her eyes held no trace of fear like someone of her age and in her position should. It worried me.

"You're my sister," I said.

A ghost of a smile crossed over the little girl's face as she reached out to touch my face gently. I recoiled at first, back to the times where any type of advancement on me was taken for a threat.

"Don't worry. I used to do it all the time for Momma." She kept resilient and captured my cheek in her small, cold hands. Tearing off a piece of her tattered shirt, she placed it on my temple to clean off the scratch of blood that had appeared from the impact of the floor.

"How old are you?"

She sat back once she finished doctoring my face. I was briefly reminded of all the times Caitlyn had had to do the exact same thing. Unsurprisingly, I didn't feel the least bit nostalgic about it. I thought those days were behind me. And here we were again, with the looming presence of my father entrapping me more than ever before. He had me trapped like an animal in a zoo with nowhere to go and no way to leave.

"I think I turn seven this year," she said nonchalantly. "We never celebrate my birthday, but I remember Momma telling me once that I was born on a warm, spring day when flowers were blooming and the birds singing."

I can't believe she's only six. There was absolutely no way. She's slight, but her face held so much more depth than any six year old I'd ever known. I wonder if that's what I would have looked like if my abuse had started that early. My mind does quick mental math to realize that she was born when I was about ten or eleven. That timeline made sense. The years after my abuse started my father would be gone for days and weeks at a time. We always hoped he would just stay gone, but he somehow always ended up coming back. Now I know what he was doing all those times he'd left us. It sickened me to a complete other level.

And then her sentence finally registered in my mind. I snapped my eyes to her which only made me realize just how much she did resemble me, not exactly but little things like her eyes and the shape of her chin and nose. My heart constricted with sadness.

"Your mother, is she still around?" I asked.

Mel shook her head, which was exactly what I was afraid of. It's bad enough Mel is a six-year-old living in the basement of her demented father's house, but she doesn't even have a mother to protect her like I had.

"What happened to her?"

Mel seemed to let a small sigh leave her body before she delved into the story. It amazed me, yet again, that this child was only six. "Well, I guess it always happened to her. She was always leaving and coming back which didn't make Daddy too happy. He wanted her to stay in the house and not leave unless told to. She didn't like that very much. See, Momma was really pretty, probably one of the prettiest ladies I'd ever seen. She would tell me at nights that she was going to find a job and make enough money for me and her to leave. I never understood why. I didn't mind living with Daddy. The only bad thing was the constant changing of houses. Each time I placed all my toys out, Daddy would say that we needed to leave again.

"So, one time, when Daddy had been gone for about a week, Momma decided she was going to go out and maybe find a job. She was mostly looking for food for us to eat, since Daddy left us with only a few dollars before he left. She told me she would only be gone for an hour or so. I didn't mind. I'd just gotten a new doll. I named her Molly. She had these big blue eyes and soft blond hair. She was so pretty."

The tendency for her to lose her train of thought reminded me of a child, and that's about the only thing that reminded me that she was a child. She also seemed really detached from herself and the world even when she mentioned her doll, which she clearly loved at some point in her life.

"What happened after your mother left?" I prompted, trying to get her back on track.

"Oh yes," she exclaimed quietly, looking up from her hands where she was mimicking that of brushing her dolls hair. "Mother left, and it kept getting later and later. I didn't realize how late it was until Daddy came home screaming about her. He dragged her into the house, yelling and kicking and screaming. I stayed up in my room. I never liked when Daddy yelled especially when he was all red-eyed and sweating. I fell asleep at some point. I remember being woken up the next morning by Daddy. He said that Momma had had an accident and that she wouldn't be coming back."

I was near tears at this point. The fact that Mel had barely expressed an ounce of emotion throughout the entire story had me extremely worried. Children were usually more emotional than anyone else, and Mel had absolutely none except when she talked about her doll or got worried about the banging around upstairs. I feared there was too much mental and internal emotional damage to her for me to help her in any way.

"Mel," I heard myself interrupt her, "are you alright?" I didn't mean for it to come out like it did, but there was no other way around it.

"What do you mean?" Her eyes were wide again.

"I mean," I started again, trying to find the right set of words, "how are you? Are you hurt?"

"Of course I'm not hurt, silly," she said evenly. "Why would I be hurt?"

I looked at her face and tried to see through the obvious façade she was imposing. I couldn't find anything. "Why do you live down here?"

"Daddy said I needed to be kept away from the light for awhile. He said it isn't safe."

"And you're okay with that?"

She shrugged. "I just do what Daddy says. He always treats me right."

I continued my confused stare. "Mel, does he…hurt you in places?"

She popped her eyes opened, dropping her mouth down into a scared frown – the first real emotion I'd seen from her. "No," she said quickly. "He's very friendly. He would never hurt me."

And I knew. No matter how detached she was, there was still that inkling of fear that he would come after her in the night. I knew the look because I used to give my mother the same look every time he was out of the house and we didn't know when he would return. Suddenly, I had a strange desire to make sure this girl lived to see her seventh birthday.

"I'm going to get you out of here," I told her.

"Why?" She asked it more as an observation than as a question.

"Because this is no way for a six year old to live. You can come stay with me and my best friend."

"What about your mom? Is she gone too?"

I nodded slowly.

"Was she a pretty lady?"

"The prettiest," I said but quickly pushed all thoughts of my mother out of my mind. Dwelling on her too much made me incredibly sad.

The banging of a door upstairs halted us for a minute. We both held our breath, eyes turned toward the staircase, waiting. When there was no sound of footsteps, I realized that he must have left the house.

"Does anyone else live here with you?"

"Just me and Daddy and sometimes a nice lady. She brings me bits of bread when I've been down here for awhile."

"A nice lady? Who is she? What does she look like?"

"She has pretty long, blonde hair."

That's all I needed to hear. I knew exactly whom she was talking about. "Her name is Dana. She works at my school."

"I think I've heard her talk about you before. You see, I knew about you before I even knew about you. Does that make sense? They would always say how you were getting close. I don't know what that meant."

I shook my head, not understanding her ramblings. Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. I pushed myself off the ground despite the swooping feeling it caused in my head. Spots of darkness covered my vision until they finally drifted away and the pain was just an annoying pulse in the back of my head.

"Where are you going?" asked Mel as I started toward the stairs.

Quietly as I could, I climbed each step, making sure to not step on anything that would emit too much noise. "Have you ever tried the door before?" I asked her.

"No, it's always locked," she said matter-of-factly.

"You never know. He could have forgotten."

I reached the door, took a deep breath while I reached out and grasped the cool handle. Counting to five, I twisted the metal but found it didn't budge. Damn, he had remembered to lock it this time. I was hoping he was far too drunk to remember. Feeling extremely defeated, I clomped back down the stairs, not caring if anyone heard me.

Mel waited for me to sit back down across from her in the corner. I rested my back against the scratchy surface of the wall, my eyes flitting over the contents of the room again. Besides the one door, there were no windows, cracks, or other rooms. It was a square room with four walls and one door that led to freedom. Our chances of escaping this basement were becoming less likely by the second. As this thought washed over me, an overwhelming amount of sadness crept into my heart. I was just starting to get my life back together, and he had to come and ruin it all again.

Shane's smiling face drifted into my thoughts, and I nearly broke into tears at the thought that I might never get to see him again. I don't know what my father planned on doing with me here, but I knew whatever it was, wasn't going to be pleasant. Just as I was drifting off into another world where my only concern was what I wore to school and what to eat for dinner, my dream was interrupted by the loud noises coming from upstairs.

I sat up from the wall with a start. Mel still had her eyes trained on me like she hadn't moved since I'd fallen back asleep. I would have stopped to dwell on the worry it instilled in me if I wasn't distracted by the noises. They were different than earlier, louder, more stressed. It also sounded like something heavy was being dragged across the floor.

I looked back to Mel. "Are you expecting someone?" I asked as the lock to the door jingled above. Our eyes flew to the stairs. I knew this time I wouldn't be able to fake sleep.

Instead of heading for her corner, Mel remained seated on the floor in front of me. Apparently the warning our father had given her meant nothing. I tried to push her away, to make it look as if we hadn't even looked at each other, but she wouldn't budge. I gave up trying because the light from upstairs cut into the darkness. I vaguely wondered what time it was. There were no windows, so there was no way for me to gage the time.

My head snapped up at the sound of loud footsteps. I had to control a gasp when a body was thrown from midway down the stairs and onto the floor. Mel and I scrambled to our feet.

"I thought I'd give you another to keep you company," our father growled from the top of the stairs, "since Mel can't seem to keep her mouth shut anyway."

I barely registered what he said because my eyes were glued on the person lying at our feet. I bent down to touch their shoulder and gently turned them over so we could see their face. My hand flew to my mouth to hold in the scream.

Lying on the floor with bruises and blood covering her body was none other than Tess Tyler.

Mel and I tried our best to ease Tess' pain.

Once we cleaned all the dried blood, we set to checking the rest of her body for injuries that would leave a damaging impression if left unattended. The entire time I thought how weird it was for me to be doing this to someone else when it was always me getting beat. It made it even weirder that the person haven been beaten was Tess. It didn't make any sense in my mind, and Tess was still unconscious and unable to fill us in.

"Do you know her?" asked Mel as she propped Tess up against the wall on her makeshift bed.

I nodded, sitting back to collect myself. "She's in my grade."

"I've seen her before."

My eyes wiped over to her. "You've seen her before? Where on earth have you seen her? I thought you didn't leave the house?"

"I don't," she said simply. "She's been over a few times with that pretty lady. I thought it was her momma."

"No, Dana is not Tess' mom. At least, not that I'm aware of." I stopped because who knows the possibilities was endless. If Dana was Tess' mom it would make sense for why Dana hated me so much, but at the same time, it didn't make any sense. I've met Tess' mom before. She's usually away for work because she's some famous actress or singer or something.

"She'll be alright. I think she is just sleeping."

The smell of alcohol caught my attention. I leaned closer to Tess to inspect. It emanated off her slow breathing, but it wasn't normal alcohol. "They drugged her," I said, coming to the conclusion just as Tess' eyes were opening.

"Where am I? What's going on?" She made to sit up, but Mel and I both pressed our hands against her to keep her from moving.

"It's okay, Tess. It's Mitchie. You should probably just sit still for a minute. I think you were drugged and possibly hit. Do you remember the last thing that happened?"

She seemed to register who I was because her big eyes suddenly expanded in fright. "Mitchie," her voice was scared. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen to you. I never thought they would actually go through with it."

Pushing aside all the anger I ever felt toward Tess, I took a deep breath and said, "It's alright. I know. Just tell me what happened so we can help you?"

Her eyes flickered over to Mel at the mention of a 'we.' Recognition shone in her eyes. "You, what are you doing here?"

"I live here," said Mel with confusion.

"You live here?" Tess was flabbergasted and regaining consciousness fast. "I thought you were just some random girl when I saw you. If I had known…"

"Tess, please focus," I said, cutting her off.

She clamped her mouth shut and turned her eyes back on me.

"What happened? Why are you here?"

Tess struggled with words. She looked like she wanted to fill us in but finding the correct way of putting it was troubling her. She probably didn't want to come off as a bitch, which is exactly what she was for putting them all in this situation in the first place.

"Tess," I said more forcibly this time. "What happened? Why did they bring you here?"

Gulping back her nerves, Tess finally opened her mouth. "They thought I was going to tell someone, so they grabbed me."

"Grabbed you? What even is—" I took a deep breath to calm myself. Anger was quickly building in me for not hearing what I wanted to hear. So I started with what I wanted to know most. "Tess, do people know I'm gone? Are they looking for me? Is Shane—"

Her eyes perked up at the mention of Shane. "They know," she whispered. "They know that you're gone. It didn't take them long to realize something was up. Dana tried to play it off like you had to head home, but that friend of yours, Catherin or whatever—"

"Caitlyn," I interjected, not appreciating the carelessness in which Tess spoke of my best friend.

"Caitlyn," she corrected herself. "Caitlyn knew better. She was instantly suspicious, but no one could really do anything about it until the show was over. M was beside herself, but I have to say I did your role justice."

"Tess, that is besides the point right now. You willingly agreed to helping someone kidnap me all so you could fulfill your nagging want to be the star."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Mitchie. You can't even begin to understand how sorry I am."

"I don't want to hear it right now. I want you to tell me everything that has happened since I was kidnapped. How long have I been here?"

"You've been gone almost a week."

A week. The reality shocked me. I couldn't have been here for an entire week. I just woke up yesterday. Was I really passed out for that long? That would be the longest I had ever been knocked unconscious. I looked to Mel who had her eyes on me, wide with interest.

"Was I really passed out for a week?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. You only showed up here yesterday."

So that was six days unaccounted for that I completely do not remember. That did not make me feel any better whatsoever. What the hell was I doing for those six days?

"Mitchie, what is it?" asked Tess.

"I don't remember," I mumbled but quickly shook the thought from my head. "So, what happened after the show finished?"

"It was a bit chaotic really. M was so thrilled with how the show went, but, as soon as we were off the stage, Shane and Caitlyn hounded me for information. They knew that wherever I was, I probably knew. I wanted to tell them. I really did. I felt awful about leaving you there with them. I never expected things to turn out that way. They never told me what they wanted you for. All they told me was if I wanted to star in the musical, I would have to bring you to them. I didn't think they'd hurt you…I didn't think they would…"

"Tess, you're trailing. Finish please."

"Sorry, sorry," she said, twisting her hands in her lap, eyes skirting all over the room, not looking at me or Mel. "Yes, well, everyone knew you were gone, so they started this huge search party. Shane wouldn't stop looking until they found you. The police, they came to me, asking about you. No one had seen you and I together before they took you, so it was easy for me to lie. I wanted to tell them, but your father, he threatened me. Said that if I told anyone what they'd done with you that he would come and kill me. So I didn't tell.

"As the week moved along, there were no leads to where you were. Everyone was growing restless. Police were searching every known place your father had been in the last couple months. There was nothing. It was like you vanished. It was killing me to see everyone walking around like a zombie, wondering and waiting for you to show up. I had to say something. I was going to come forth, telling everyone what I knew, but just before I could, Dana snatched me. She must have seen what I was planning on.

"She took me after school, I think it was yesterday, and now I'm here."

"Could anyone have followed you? Do you think anyone saw?"

Tess shook her head, locks of dirty black hair falling from her haphazardly tied hair bow. Tears shone in her eyes. "No, I don't think. I wasn't completely aware of what was happening. They drugged me with something."

"We've gone over that."

She picked her head up to give Mel and I a quizzical stare, like she had forgotten we were there for most of her speech. She seemed more disturbed than usual.

"Someone is bound to find us," I said, more for the benefit of my own mind rather than anyone else. "They must."

Once I'd dissected all the information I thought possible from Tess, I sat back against the wall feeling more and more defeated by the moment.

A week had gone by and it seemed like there had been no progress in finding me. It gave me hope that Caitlyn and Shane were helping because they wouldn't stop until they found me. The police would grow tired of the cold trail after awhile, but my best friends wouldn't stop, they couldn't. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

The three of us settled into a silence that I didn't want to break. I was exhausted. My stomach growled. I couldn't even remember the last time I ate, let alone slept decently. All I really knew was I was trapped in a basement with my sworn enemy and a sister I'd never known about, waiting for a punishment I was sure would come. The waiting was the worst.

Every time I heard footsteps upstairs, I always worried that they were coming down to us, to hurt us, or do something awful to us. But as the days passed, no one opened the door save for a few times when a balding man with a tattoo behind his ear brought us food. The man instantly reminded me of the one that had been plaguing my dreams for the last couple months. He would smile at us, leave the food, and retreat back up the stairs, never talking, never interacting. His silence frightened me.

If I had to warrant a guess, I'd been there three days, Tess two. We were growing weaker by the hour without the proper nourishment and lack of sunlight or exercise. Mel kept on like she'd been doing this for years, which, in all honesty, she probably had. She was more accustomed to this living than me and, more so than, Tess. I doubt that Tess had ever gone a day without proper food or at least a bath. I wondered if anyone was worried about her and looking for her. Would they think that the two kidnaps were coincidence, or would they be pursuing Tess more for the fact that her family had greater authority than anyone I knew?

My harried thoughts were interrupted by a smashing sound upstairs. The sound of liquid sloshing all over the floor was obvious. Mel, Tess, and I all stopped what we were doing and fixed our eyes on the ceiling before moving them to the door. Voices echoed down the long stairs, but no definite words could be made out. The voice definitely sounded angry and slightly impaired. I gulped back a nervous tremor as the steps pounded against the tiled floor, heading in the direction of our door. Tess let out a shriek of fear and scurried over to a darkened corner, thinking that that would help disguise her from the impending monster trying to make its way into our area.

Standing up, Mel faced the stairs with a defiant look on her face. Defiant for what, I was not sure, but I reached out and grabbed her anyway, pulling her away from the light that spilled onto the floor as he finally figured out how to turn the doorknob. His footsteps were slow and heavy, and the smell of alcohol was pungent. I kept a firm hold on Mel's shoulder to keep her from running to him as he stepped off the last stair and surveyed the room with bloodshot eyes. He spotted Tess curled in the corner, sobbing quietly, and merely shook his head at the frightened girl. Turning his eyes toward Mel and I, a new kind of emotion passed over his face – one of excitement or pleasure, I couldn't be sure but both made my skin crawl with disgust.

"It seems," he slurred, dragging the bottle in his hand back to his mouth, "that my girls aren't afraid of me, standing up all prepared."

Mel inched forward. I had no idea what propelled her to think pursuing him would be a good idea, so I tightened my grasp, sinking my nails into her frail shoulder. She let out a whimper.

"Mel, come to Daddy. I know you've missed me."

She lurched forward again. This time I wrapped both my arms around her waist, holding her against me and out of reach of him. Our father wasn't pleased.

"Put her down, bitch! She actually likes her father, unlike other ungrateful daughters who should never have been born in the first place."

I let the insult wash over me and narrowed my eyes at him. I am strong, I repeated to myself in my head. I am capable. I am strong.

"I won't let you touch her again," I find myself saying.

He stopped swaying momentarily to level me with a glare. "And how do you think you will stop that from happening?" On unsteady feet, he stepped toward us, holding his bottle out to point at me accusingly. "You think you're gonna stop me? Are you that dumb? Oh wait, you are. I forget how dumb of a slut you were when I lived in that awful house with that awful woman you called a mother."

"Don't speak about my mother," I said through gritted teeth.

My harshness was new to him. I'd only ever spoken up to him a handful of times, and they were always much weaker attempts than this. His feet stopped him right in front of my face where I could smell the alcohol dripping off his breath. I breathed through my mouth, trying to keep the racing of my heart from beating out of control.

His empty hand reached out, and I thought he was going to hit me until I felt his sweaty finger trace my cheekbone. "You're mother was a bitch," he said, his face right in mine, "just like you."

Without thinking, I released my grip of Mel and slapped his finger away from my face. It didn't take long for him to realize what I did. He reached out and grasped my upper arm, squeezing until I thought my bones would break. Mel fell away from me as he pulled me toward him and started dragging me toward the staircase.

I heard Mel yell after us as we descended the stairs. Through the pain exhibiting in my arm, I managed to turn around and yell at Tess. "Tess, keep her close! Don't let her out of your sight!"

"Mitchie, be—"

But I never heard the rest of her sentence. The door slammed shut behind us, and for the first time I saw where we were being held. It's a small house, barely large enough to be called a house, but there was a basement and apparently an upstairs because that's where we're heading. As he dragged me along the narrow hallway, my eyes searched for any possible source that could help me. No one else was around. I noticed a front door that had to lead outside, but, other than that, there was hardly anything that would aid me.

I tugged on the arm he held which only resulted in a slap to the face. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be hit so blatantly that the shock immediately rendered me helpless. I fell limp in his arms, making it easier for him to throw me into one of the bedrooms on the second floor. The first feeling I had as I fell onto the bed was relief. My limbs rejoiced the plush mattress and the soft blankets engulfing my body. But then I realized why I was there. Quickly crawling to the farthest part of the bed, I watched him struggle with a door on the other side of the room. He finally managed to get through and flicked the light on – a bathroom. He closed the door behind him, and I was off the bed faster than I could think. I looked around the room for anything, anything to help.

My eyes found a dark bag that looked like it would hold a phone. Checking behind me to make sure he hadn't returned, I dove into the bag, shifting through its contents. I was just about to give up and move to another room when my hand fumbled over a slight, square object. Pulling it from the bag, my heart faltered. Only a lighter. An idea sprung into my head. I rooted around the pockets of the bag until I found them. With fumbling fingers, I somehow managed to light the cigarette. The smoke choked me as I tossed it away from me in the direction of the bathroom. I lit a few more before racing from the room in search of a phone. Burning down the house seemed like a good idea before I realized that there were still people in it. I had just hoped that the flames would startle someone and that help would be sent.

My father was still in the bathroom, but he won't be for long once he smells the smoke. I raced across the hallway into another room that looked like it had once belonged to a little girl – Mel, possibly. What I had been searching for sat on the nightstand next to the bed. My hand clasped the receiver, and the dial tone filled my ear. It was the sweetest sound I'd heard in the past week and a half. The receiver shook in my hand as I pounded the first number that came to my mind.

"Hello?"

I wanted to cry upon hearing his voice.

"Hello?" He sounded distressed and tired.

I somehow found my voice and mumbled, "S-Shane, it's me."

"Mitchie?" His voice quickly changed from tired to alert. I heard noise in the background like hundred of stomping feet suddenly coming to. "Mitchie, oh my god. We've been looking everywhere for you. Where are you?"

I glanced behind me, still nothing. "I'm in a house somewhere." I looked through the small window, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

"Where Mitchie? Do you see a street sign anywhere? Any other buildings around?"

Moving over a pile of overturned toys, I squinted into the darkness, searching. Into the receiver, I said, "It looks like we're across from a warehouse. I see a park in the distance, or maybe it's just a field of grass. It's too dark. I can't see any signs."

"It's okay, Mitchie. We will find you. Just keep talking to me."

"Shane, I—"

The phone ripped from my hand, and I heard the disconnecting tone before I saw the hand coming down to connect against my face. The smell of smoke was evident now, and the flames grew wilder with every second. His face was rabid and slightly charred from having had to walk through the fire. It made him look more threatening than ever.

"Thought you could get out of here. Well you thought wrong!" He punched me again, and I fell to the ground from the impact, clutching at my face, which now dripped freely with blood. "They may arrive here, but you won't be alive when they find you. I've had enough of your incessant whining. All you've ever done is cause my grief."

He moved to kick me, but I kicked out my leg instead. In his impaired state, the blow shocked him, and he toppled to the floor. I scrambled to my feet, aware that the fire was growing by the minute. I needed to get to Tess and Mel before the whole house burnt down on them.

I was in the doorway when his fingers wrapped around my ankle. He gave one sharp tug and I fell to the floor, my face hitting the corner of the doorway hard. I felt the rip of skin across my chin. He pulled me across the floor until he loomed over me. Sweat, blood, and ash dripping from his face, he settled his body on top of me so that I couldn't move let alone breathe. I tried pushing him off, but he was like an unmovable boulder with all the alcohol in him.

"I thought you'd have learned better by now," he growled, leaning close to my face. He grabbed my chin in his thick fingers, disregarding the opened wound and forcing me to look at him.

I gritted my teeth to keep the scream from erupting out of me.

"Apparently, you still need to be taught a lesson. I thought we'd gotten passed this." His body shifted on top of me, making it even harder to breathe. He pinned down both my hands above my head as he worked his other hand down my body. My legs thrashed underneath him, trying and failing to get him off of me. He only laughed at my attempts and rewarded me with a couple swift punches to my stomach. The familiar feeling of darkness was coming to me. Dots impaired my vision, and I knew sooner or later that I would fall into that place I'd thought I'd left forever.

Just as the darkness was surrounding my eyes, a new noise filled the crackling of wood. I tried to lift my head, but it was too much, and it fell back to the floor with a smack. The pressure lessened on my body as he stopped his pursuits to look behind him and out the door. Even as the pressure lessened, I couldn't breathe. The combination of smoke and pain made it impossible to see, think, and live. But just as I passed over into the darkness, I heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

And then darkness.

I sat up straight, sweating and cold. There was a tug on my arms as my eyes adjusted to the bright light hanging overhead. This place looked all too familiar. I wondered if I was back at the house until I saw a familiar head swim into my spinning view.

I couldn't help it. I started crying, and so did Shane. Despite all the tubes connected to me, he wrapped me in his arms, holding me close to his chest as he kissed every part of me he could find. When he pulled away, I looked up at him through watery eyes and touched his face, not believing that he was actually here, that I was not in that place or, worse, dead.

"How did you find us?" I whispered.

"You were quite smart with starting that fire. We had a vague idea of where you were because we'd been combing that area for a few days."

"Tess, and there was a little girl inside, are they okay?" I asked suddenly. They had to be okay.

"They're alright. Both of them. They are here at the hospital. Tess only sustained minor injuries, but they have the girl connected to more machines than you. She's extremely malnourished, and I thought I heard someone say something about psychological damage."

I sighed. At least they were safe. "What about…"

"Dead," said Shane without a ring of triumph. He only continued to look absolutely disgusted at the thought of my father. "He was shot in the back by the time we got there. Tess had found a gun, no idea how but she said he was attacking you, so she shot him. That didn't kill him, but the amount of fire on his body did. By the time the police arrived, he was just a smoked piece of body. They made sure he was dead. He won't be bothering you anymore, Mitchie. It's over. It's all over."

He placed a soft kiss on my lips, and I noticed movement around me on all sides. It was like an unspoken agreement that everyone could come forward at that second, just to make sure I was real and that I was breathing. People rained kisses down on me, but I barely noticed any of them, even the ones from Caitlyn and Nate.

I couldn't stop thinking. I thought I'd been done with all the abuse, all the trepidation. Shane said he was dead, but would he really stay dead? The past week had unearthed all the thoughts and terrors I had while living with my mother in our house. We were in constant fear that we wouldn't make it to the next day. And that everlasting fear had never really left. It had only been squashed deep down while I let other things in life wash over the holes he created. It will never actually leave me. No, I will always watch my back wherever I go, even if he was dead.

Death, in my case, didn't mean the end. More or less, it meant a prolonged silence that would never ultimately leave me. But would grow louder at times when I never expected it to, reminding me of my past, never allowing me to fully move on. And then it would subside, only to wait for the next opportunity when my guard was down, reminding me yet again why I will never fully trust anyone or anything.

Putting a smile on my face, I faced my friends and whom I now considered my family. All these people, all these tearstained faces, were the reason for why I had kept those feelings pushed away for so long. I turned my head to Shane. His face appeared the brightest of them all. And I knew, in that moment, that I would be able to get by with these people by my side, especially with Shane there. He would make sure I was all right. He would keep the monsters at bay.

At least, I hoped he would…