Note from the writer: the two following stories were sent to my as audio recordings, separately. I have typed them out and posted them here as requested in their attachments.

You know that moment when your whole life is almost perfect and then something absolutely horrible happens to you and your existence as you know it changes?

That pretty much sums up the last couple days of my life.

I had a job as a theater actress and getting ready to graduate from high school. Some videos of me singing had gone viral, gaining me enough attention to ensure people would want to hire me to sing and act in their productions. Things were going great.

Then it all went wrong. Very, very wrong.

I had been singing at a fundraiser that night with my friend Edward.

I'd had a few songs left and had called him up onto the stage.

"And here's my dear friend Edward," I said. "Here to sing a duet with me, from that musical we were in together, Phantom of the Opera."

There were applause and cheers.

"See, though, Edward actually didn't want to play the Phantom. He originally tried out for the role of Raoul." I, personally, think his personality is very Raoulish. "Shall we give him a chance at it?"

More applause.

We both broke into "All I Ask of You".

The song was practically ingrained onto my memory. Each crescendo, each high note. I could turn my mind off.

A few people had cell phones out, recording our song.

We threw ourselves into our parts, Edward gripping my hands at the right times, even getting down on his knees the way Hadley Fraser does in the 25th anniversary version.

We've both been praised for our "incredible chemistry" online. Basically, everyone seems to ship us. This song would probably send our shippers over the edge.

Applause. Lots of applause.

Several tween girls were already uploading their cell phone videos to youtube. I rolled my eyes. No matter how clearly you say that recording is not allowed, people do it anyhow.

That's not an excuse for them. It's just a fact.

"And that's all for tonight," I said, giving them my brightest smile and a bow. "Good night!"

I walked offstage, followed by Edward.

"You were absolutely fantastic," he said. "Not like you aren't always."

"Aw, thanks. You were great yourself."

I pulled a light sweater on over my formal dress. My parents were coming to pick me up – I had to be on a bus in a few hours to head to New York.

"Are the rumors about you auditioning for a part in a show in New York true?" asked Edward.

"One comment on Twitter about going to New York on vacation to see some Broadway shows and look what happens." I made a mental note to be more careful about the things I said online. And maybe get rid of my Twitter entirely. "I'm signed up for Yeston and Kopit's Phantom. That'll be for a while, depending on how long the show runs. No, I'm not auditioning for anything in New York."

"What, they haven't asked you to go on Broadway yet? No one's asked you to be in Phantom of the Opera on Broadway or West End?"

I laughed. "No. I wish, but I'm hardly ready for that."

"Why not? Your appearance would bring people in. Your singing is magnificent. And your acting's okay too. Why wouldn't they come inviting you to audition?"

"Because my acting is fine. It's not fantastic, or great, or really even all that good if I'm being honest. Especially by Broadway and West End standards."

"Don't be such a perfectionist."

If only it were perfectionism that were my problem.

The two of us walked outside together.

A cold wind whipped at my legs.

My parents' car was in front.

"This is where I say goodbye," I said. "See you in a few weeks."

"Get one of those roles for me. I'll come and see you."

We both parted ways, Edward walking to his car and me to my parents.

"Hi!" said Mom through the window. "How was it?"

"About the same as always." I opened the door.

There was a loud sound behind me. Before I could react, another one.

My parents sat slumped in their seats. Blood sprayed the windshield.

Something struck me in the back of the neck. Everything went black.

I woke up to the sensation of being sharply jolted.

"She's still out," said a male voice somewhere above me.

I became very suddenly awake, eyes snapping open, lashing out at everything around me. My fist connected with a jaw. Someone released a shout of pain.

Something stabbed into the back of my neck. For a moment, I twisted, kicking and scratching at the source of the sharp object.

Then I went limp. Not unconscious, just limp. I couldn't move.

I was pulled out of a van. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a river behind me, with water rushing past.

A camera was shoved in my face. "This is Ariel Dalton," said a male voice. "As one of HYDRA's enemies, she will be executed."

A weight tugged at my leg, but I couldn't see what it was.

"Say goodbye, Ariel."

I couldn't say anything. I could barely breathe, let alone do anything else.

My feet dragged through the rocks and dirt, toward the river. They were going to throw me into the river, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I was shoved hard and hit the water.

It was icy cold, but failed to wake up any part of my body. My head went under almost immediately as the current pulled me along underneath, weighed down by the heavy object and going straight to the bottom.

Simmons's remark on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. about drowning came back to me. That it's not so bad.

Had she been there, I would have assured her it was not. It was agony, using the only energy I had to gasp for air when there was none, and never would be again.

Something wrapped around my arm, tugging me back, up toward the surface.

My head broke out of the water. Something – someone? – grabbed me around the middle, hauling me up onto the bank.

I couldn't spit the water out. I could only lie there and gasp, and barely that.

I was rolled onto my side. The water began to drip down the face of my face. I passed out again.

I woke up again lying on top of something hard. Not a floor. A bench? Someone had covered with with a blanket.

This time, I lay still for a moment before the realization of what had happened came flooding back. That joke was not intentional.

I opened my eyes.

I was in some kind of shed, lying on, as I had guessed, a bench. Sitting on the other side of the shed, a few feet away, was Grant Ward.

"Hey," he said. "How are you feeling?"

Had he been the one to pull me from the water? He must have.

That would mean he wanted something. I didn't want to know what that something was.

I started to sit up, only for a wave of pain to hit my skull. I sank back down.

"Side effect of the stuff they gave you. Are you feeling any others?"

There was a moment of silence. I glared at him. I probably should have been grateful, but it's a little harder to be grateful to him than it would be to, say, Loki. At least Loki didn't join a crazy, Nazi based organization. No, I'm not really a Ward fan.

"Exactly what happened to me?" I asked.

"I don't think you're quite –"

"I just saw my parents shot and was nearly murdered by HYDRA. I think I'm entitled to an answer, Ward." A little part of my mind had shut off my ability to feel grief. All I felt was a dull, horrible ache.

"They wanted revenge. I'm sorry. If I'd had any idea, I would have warned you."

Yes, I'm sure you would, because you're such a loyal person who always tries to do what's best for everyone... not.

"You were actually the last one they went after that night."

"The last one?"

"Ivy..."

"What about Ivy? She's dead."

"Her parents. They were found dead at their house. Her brother is in the hospital."

I could hardly believe it. I'd hated the Williams family, after they'd kicked Ivy out of the house. But now they were dead?

"What do you want?" I asked Ward. "Because you didn't save me out of the goodness of your heart."

"I want information from you."

That was about what I had expected. Wouldn't it have been easier to get it from Jack and Miranda? Or Edward?

I noticed a nasty scar on his face – teeth marks? Where had that come from?

His neck also had a burn on it, blistered and gross. Newer than the teeth marks.

Something told me he already had tried to pay a visit to Jack and Miranda. Hence the burn. Between the two of them, Miranda and Jack could deal with the Hulk. They probably had a plan for it and everything. After hearing the details of their plan for escaping S.H.I.E.L.D., I had become convinced there was nothing they couldn't plan out.

I sensed Ward probably wouldn't give the details of how it had worked out.

"Hate to break it to you, but there isn't a chance in this reality or any other that you're getting any information off of me. I don't have anything you'd want. I've been in this universe for a few months now, and I can't leave."

He pulled me up into a sitting position against the wall. The sudden jolt sent a wave of pain through my skull. "Really." He didn't sound like he believed me. "Are you sure about that?"

"Of course."

"I'd think long and hard and be absolutely sure first."

"What, do you think I'm lying?" If only I was. I might know how it could play out then.

"It's always a possibility. Unfortunately, I've got somewhere to be in the next few minutes. You're not going to be walking anywhere for a day or two after that stuff, so don't bother trying anything."

The moment he stepped out the door, I started trying to push myself off the bench.

It worked, except for that I fell straight onto the floor, face smacking into the floorboards. That hurt... a lot.

I started to crawl toward the door very slowly. It took me what I later guessed to be ten minutes to crawl there – and it was only seven feet away.

The door was, of course, locked. And there was no question of my climbing out the window.

I was debating what to do next when the door opened again.

"We're going now," said Ward.