She was taken; gone, without a trace. All their hard work—burned away; every little fear, crawling back up and consuming them.
Taylor Swift and Josh Ramsay—life couldn't be getting much better for the two. They were happily married for nine months, and both at the peaks of their carriers. But, on the last night of the most recent tour of Marianas Trench—everything goes wrong. It was as if life had a malfunction and stopped working. In an instant, Taylor's life spiralled down into the pits of hell, once again. However, not in the way before—this time, she had been kidnapped; right before she was about to tell Josh something very, very, important—it would change their lives forever.
How will Josh take it? How will he save her this time? They were both lost and alone. The only communication they had? Was talking to the moon.
—A sequel to "A Place In This World"
A/N: Welcome! Before you read I have like two words to say. This is the sequel to A Place In this World, and if you haven't read that don't worry. I'm not going to make you read that before this, it's really not going to affect this story in any way. Also, for those of you wondering what happened to that story, it was removed from this site for use of real people. But don't worry, because I uploaded it onto my wattpad account, and you can find it in my profile.
For those of you wondering what "A Place in This World" is, here is the summary:
What if Taylor Swift was never discovered at the Blue Bird café? What if she had somehow wound up in Vancouver, and became best friends with Josh Ramsay, the lead singer of Marianas trench. When fame finally engulfs Taylor, Josh will need to pull her out before she hits rock bottom. What if Josh had to risk reliving his darkest days, in order to help out a friend? Could he do it?
If you want to re-read, or read for the first time, check it out on my wattpad!
Now for this story, I will only be uploading this chapter here for many reasons. One, because the first story in this series isn't up, and I don't have the time or effort to re-upload all 56 chapters or so back on here, just to have it taken down. Same goes for this story. I don't want to upload it just to have it taken down, so check it out on my Wattpad, and the link is in my profile.
Anyways, please check this out, and "A Place in This World". This is the link:
story/5700286-talking-to-the-moon
enjoy :)
Prologue-
Taylor's POV
September 13th 2015
I sat in the studio, working away tirelessly at a new song. It'd been a long day. I couldn't wait to crawl up into my bed, and curl into the sheets, pretending they were Josh.
At this present moment, his band, Mariana's Trench, was playing their last show of their most recent tour, all the way out in Edmonton. I sighed in relief. Soon. Soon I could wrap myself in Josh's arms, and give him that kiss that had been patiently waiting on my lips for two weeks. Throughout their very long tour, I had taken time to visit them in various cities. I updated Josh and the boys on my life, but kept something secret.
I was planning on telling Josh at a special dinner after he got home-I was pregnant! Fourteen weeks to be exact. Luckily, I wasn't quite showing yet, so it was somewhat easy to keep from him. I was beyond excited to be carrying a child. Finally, my big fantasy was coming true. I knew Josh wasn't the most fond of babies, but I knew deep down he wanted a little clone of himself. Before he left, we came to an agreement that as long as I changed the diapers, we could try for one-but, as life goes, that promise was pretty flimsy.
A car slamming outside interrupted me from my day dream, and I set out to continue with this song. I looked up at the clock. 9:00. Their concert should be ending soon, for Edmonton was an hour ahead. I was the only one in the studio tonight, so I decided to pack up.
Voices sounding from outside distracted me, and I walked towards the window, wondering who was there. I didn't see anyone, so I waved it off, but then something glinted in the light, and two burly men emerged from the shadows. One clenched a crowbar in hand.
Fear struck me; I didn't know what to do. I instantly remembered my grandma telling me the story of how her mothers house had been broken into while she was in it. They took everything, including the wedding ring on the old widows finger. They had even detached the phone systems, so she couldn't call 911.
I quickly stood up on the coffee table next to the couch, and hid my cellphone in the ceiling tile. If the two men were going to break in, they would most certainly steal things from the place, and from me.
I looked down at my wedding rings. Those, were the most important thing to me in here. I couldn't dare lose them; at times they were all I had to connect me with Josh. My mind scrambled, to look for a place to hide them, when the sound of the front door smashing struck me all the same.
In a panic, I forgot about my rings, and grabbed the nearest weapon to me. A small table lamp. I was doomed, but I couldn't go down without a fight.
I suddenly wished that there was more than one exit in this building.
I heard movement behind the shut door. They were in the lobby area, most likely stealing and destroying things. I leaned against the wall the door was on. I would get them by surprise. I heard banging, and the door started shuttering. My racing heart was thumping hard. I could hear it in my ears.
Finally, with one last thump, the door shot open. I quickly swung the lamp like a bat, and the lightbulb smashed into the first strangers eyes; most likely blinding him for life. I swung again and hit his head-knocking him out cold. He crumpled to the ground. But the victory was short lived; the second thug came in and knocked me to the ground.
I screamed-hoping distant ears would hear me.
The man was on top of me, depriving me of movement. I struggled under his weight, but it did nothing. I prayed my baby wasn't being hurt.
His hand reared back, and whipped across the face. I cried out.
"Shut it girl," he demanded in a low voice.
"Get off of me," I cried. "Please!"
That earned me another hard slap.
"I said shut it!" he demanded. He held his meaty forearm against my throat, blocking the airway.
I struggled under him, using my all to get him off me. But it did nothing to help; if anything, it helped him, for my breath was being stolen even faster.
"Please," I croaked out. If he didn't let me breath-I didn't want to think of the consequences from that.
I looked into his coal eyes, searching for some tiny form of compassion in them-all I got was hardness. My vision darkened, matching his dark eyes, and I slipped away.
I woke up, still on the ground, only this time, my left hand was cuffed to the couch. I pulled and jiggled, but it was on there strong. I suspected I hadn't been out long, for the first man was still on the ground, and noises were coming from the other rooms of this building.
I shot up, a killer headache almost knocking me right back out.
Did I do that? The man on the ground was still, and a pool of blood surrounded him. Had I done that? Had I murdered someone? Tears threatened to spill, and I resisted the urge to vomit.
I had to get out of here now-and fast.
I instantly thought of my phone. I knew I didn't have much time before this guy left, so I needed to call emergency now. I threw my shoe up to the ceiling. The tile broke, and my phone fell down to me. I picked it up and dialled 911. I told them my situation and the operator said the police were on their way.
Next, I called Josh. I had to let him know what was happening, and that I loved him; this could possibly be the last time I talked to him.
I pushed those dark thoughts from my mind, and dialled, but I reached his voicemail. I hung up in frustration. Alberta was one hour ahead, which meant that it was only 10:15 there. He was probably still doing the show-possibly the meet and greet.
I called a few more times, but to only reach his voicemail. Eventually I gave up, and realized that this was probably the end. This intruder was either going to kill me, or kidnap me. On the fifteenth call, I left a quick message.
"Josh baby, you really need to pick up right now. I'm at the studio, and-you just really need to pick up now."
Five calls later, I left another one.
"Josh please pick up! I really need you to answer your phone."
A few more calls and messages later, I gave up; he wasn't going to answer. I had to leave him a final voicemail.
"Hey Josh; baby. I-I just wanted to let you know that I love you more than anything. You mean the whole world to me. And, I probably don't say this often enough, or show it, but I am so thankful that I met you in that little café on that rainy October Wednesday. You've changed my life. And then when I took that dark path, you helped me out of it. You saved my life. You are my superhero. My rockstar.
"Baby, I miss you so much right now, and I'm going to miss you a lot more later. I love you so so much. And I want you to never give up. Promise me," my voice broke. "Promise me that you will continue your journey of success. One day, everyone will know your name. You have so much talent you haven't even realized, and you haven't even found half of it yet.
"You are so selfless and put other people before you. You don't think of yourself as the lead singer of probably the biggest band in Canada, you think of yourself much less of what you are. You are so funny and nice and caring. You're not afraid to be you, and I love that. You are so beautiful. Your eyes are absolutely stunning. And you are the perfect husband anyone could ask for. And you would've made the perfect father too," my throat tightened.
"I love you. Josh I will never forget you. Thinking of you is what pulls me through the worst of my days. If this is the last time, then goodbye Josh. The best of my memories involve you. I love you to the moon and back; I will love you for forever and always; I will love you for a thousand years and more. I love you to infinity and beyond." And then the phone clicked off and I ran out of minutes.
Through that while entire speech I had tried so hard not to cry. I'm sure he'll hear sniffles and sobs here and there, but he will hear it. Before I could let my walls cave in-as that could be our last form of communication-and break into racking sobs, I turned to my voice memo, and began recording.
I described the robbers features. All that I could see wasn't much, but at least it was something. His black ski mask had covered most of his face, but showed enough to tell me that he was a white male, with the blackest eyes I had ever seen in my life. He was big and muscular, probably about 6'0, around 220lbs. He wore a leather jacket and jeans. On his feet were black and white zig tech runners.
I heard footsteps, and hid my phone. The mysterious guy walked in and started pouring a liquid all over the place.
"What are you doing?" Fear creeping into my voice.
"Well babe, since I've taken everything I wanted to take-almost." His dark eyes shifted to me. An unexpected chill ran through me. "I'm done with this place-I'm going to burn it down. There'll be no evidence left."
Burn the studio down? All the hard work and memories that were put into it-gone? I couldn't bare the thought. I prayed my phone was recording it.
"What? You can't!" I tried to stall him.
Where was the police? I tried not to panic when I thought that my phone didn't even make the calls, but quickly pushed that aside. That was fear talking, not me.
"Too late." He lit a match and dropped it onto the liquid.
Flames quickly shot up-this couldn't be happening. Having a house fire was one of my worst fears. I was going to burn down with the studio. Fear enveloped me, and I finally let the tears slide.
But then the man walked over and undid my hand cuff from the couch, and picked me up. He walked me out of the building.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"You're coming with me babe," he replied.
"What! Where?"
"I can't tell you that."
"Why not?"
He didn't answer me. He walked outside, and to his white panel van.
"NO!" I panicked. I thrashed and yelled as loud as I could, trying to let somebody out there hear. "Don't take me away in your white van, with the license plate number, 509 VGP!"
"Shut up! Why are you yelling nonsense?" He looked down at where I had my phone stuffed underneath my shirt. "You bitch!" He growled.
He yanked it away, and threw it on the grass. He threw me into his van, and cuffed my hands behind my back. Sirens sounded from nearby-I had to stall. I kicked at the mans face, struggling to break free. He grabbed my foot and yanked me towards him.
"Now babe, you don't want to be difficult," he snarled.
"Don't call me that!" I screamed, and kicked him again, causing his cheek to split.
That's when I realized I only had one shoe.
He grabbed my feet together, and cuffed them up as well. I thrashed around as he closed the doors, claustrophobia tickling my insides.
"No! Get me out! Get me out!" I screamed.
He opened up the drivers side door, and jumped in. I continued to scream and thrash.
"Oh shut up!" he yelled.
I didn't listen to him. He then reached into the glove compartment, brought out a strange looking weapon, and brought it to my neck. It shocked me, and I went all tingly. I couldn't move.
This was my worst nightmare.
Josh's POV
I walked off the stage, adrenaline rushing through my veins. The screams and cheers from the crowd echoed through my body, sending shock waves to my heart. A laugh escaped my lips, soaking in the pleasure of it all.
"That crowd was sick tonight man!" Mike cheered.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I saw a girl flash me during the encore," Ian laughed.
I smiled, soaking in their excitement. I walked to my phone-this crowd definitely deserved a shout out. But I stopped short when I noticed the amount of missed calls from Taylor. Along with the many calls, there were also several voicemails. I brought my phone to my ear, snapping at the band to silence them, and listened to Taylor's panicked voice.
"Josh baby, you really need to pick up right now. I'm at the studio, and-you just really need to pick up right now."
"Josh please pick up! I really need you to answer your phone."
"Josh! Where are you? Why can't you answer the phone?"
The next one was filled with sobs.
"Josh, I love you. Please pick up."
"Josh. If you don't pick up the phone right now, I swear-"
"Please answer your phone!"
"Okay Josh, this has gone on long enough, you need to answer right now."
"I don't care that you're doing a show right now, please just answer your phone!"
"Josh, please. Please answer your phone. Please, please."
"Voicemail again? Pick. Up. Your. Phone!"
This one was barely a whisper: "Josh, please."
What the hell was going on? The last message was filled with interrupting sobs and sniffles. It filled me with dread.
"Hey Josh. I-I just wanted to let you know that I love you more than anything. You mean the whole world to me. And, I probably don't say this often enough, or show it, but I am so thankful that I met you in that café on that rainy October Wednesday. You changed my life. And then when I took that dark path, you helped me out of it. You saved my life. You are my superhero. My rockstar. . ."
After listening, I felt my heart drop. Why was she talking about the last time? What did she mean, 'I would've made the perfect father.' Was this the last time I ever heard from her? I looked beside me. Matt was standing there.
"Everything ok man?" He asked softy, laying a hand on my shoulder. I could see Ian and mike out of the corner of my eye. All three had the same concerned look. Was the look plastered onto my face that obvious that something was clearly wrong.
I shook my head.
"Something's horribly wrong-" my voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. "Something's horribly wrong with Taylor, and she's at the studio."
"Okay. Okay we'll leave right now. We'll let Ian and Mike do the meet and greets, and we'll go home right now," he said surprisingly calm.
All I could do was nod my head. A lump had formed in my throat. This terrible feeling was soaring through my stomach.
Lights flashed; red; white; blue. Where walls should've been, were dark piles of ash. All the hard work and memories-gone. I squeezed my eyes tight. Maybe this was all just a nightmare. The panic I had endured on the flight here had exhausted me. Maybe some sleep would make this hell all disappear-Taylor.
My eyes snapped wide-where the hell was my wife?
My gaze roamed the scene. Half of the studio was in ruins; where structure should've been, was dark and ashy material. Fire fighters, and police men surrounded it. I left Matt, and walked up to an officer.
"What's going on with my studio?" I asked. The man looked over at me.
"You must be the owner. Earlier we got a distress call from a cellular device stating a break and entry. We found one body, and it was that of a big muscular man. Do you have any idea who he might've been?" he asked.
"No, I don't know who he could be, but what about Taylor! Where is she? Is she ok?" Panic was hitting me full force now.
"I'm sorry, but we found no other bodies in there. We saved this from the fire." He held up a shoe. It was Taylor's.
"You mean-"
"I'm so sorry."
All emotion washed away, and numbness set in. I walked away and sat on the hard grass. This couldn't be happening. Taylor; she was gone. I felt tears prick my eyes. I would never see her again. Sobs racked my body. My life was over.
She had been burned alive inside of the studio.
A light flashed out of the corner of my eye. I looked over, and through my tear filled vision, I saw her phone. I was shocked-I couldn't believe it. I wiped away the tears, and blinked hard, thinking I was just seeing things. I looked again and it was still there.
"Oh my god! Police! It's her phone," I shouted to no one in particular. This gave me hope. This made me believe that maybe she had escaped the hungry flames.
"What is it?" the officer asked-the same one from before.
"It's her phone! She could've escaped!"
I reached down to grab it, but he quickly smacked my hand away.
"Don't touch that boy, it could have fingerprints." He handed me a rubber glove, and I put it on.
I picked up the phone. The precious specimen could be my only hope on where she could be. I unlocked it and saw that she had just recorded a voice memo. I listened to it with the police officer.
It explained how a man looked and what he was wearing. The officer was jotting down notes. We heard talking. The mans gruff voice in the memo, explained that he was going to burn the place down so there would be no evidence. We heard that he was taking her away.
"Don't take me away in your white van, with the license plate number, 509 VGP!" we heard Taylor scream.
Evidence.
We had a lead as to where we could find this man who took the love of my life away.
"Good girl," I whispered.
A/N: oh snap. I hope you enjoyed that, and please comment and vote and tell me what you think. I also apologize for the weird formatting. . . I simply just copy and pasted this from my Wattpad so it's a little off. But I hope you enjoyed, and please check it out!
