I now believe that one day can change your whole life forever. I know because that day happened when I was eight. We lived in a two story house on twelve acres of land; the pond was at the north corner of the property, the field at the southeast corner. Trees surrounded the land, bushy green in the summer and fluorescent red, gold, and orange colors in fall. I wasn't supposed to leave the property surrounded in the white picket fence, which only went around two acres. There were never any good trees to climb in those few acres or any children near enough to play with. The wildflowers didn't bloom before my mother plucked them from the ground to plant her garden, so the only ones I saw were from afar, colors blended together.

It was that one spring day, though, that I decided to challenge the rules both my mother and father put in place. While mother was inside cleaning the house of winter gloom and father was out for the day, I climbed over the fence. It wasn't hard; the fence was more for decoration than to actually keep me inside, or other things out. The lure of those brightly colored flowers proved to be overpowering that day, calling to me sweetly and quietly. I walked towards the field where the flowers resided, looking at the surroundings as though I had never seen them before. Everything looked so much different when you were up close. As soon as I came upon the field I noticed that the flowers were not only different colors, but shapes and sizes too!

I sat down in what I thought was the middle of the field, purple flowers dominating over the yellows, pinks, and reds. I plucked a purple one and held it up to my nose, the aroma intoxicating.

"You shouldn't do that you know."

I looked up, startled, and began to scan the tree line from where I had surely heard the voice. I stood up slowly, flower in hand. "H...hello? Who's there?" I called nervously. A man, no older than seventeen, stepped out from behind a tree and pointed to the flower in my hand.

"You shouldn't pick them. A flower won't grow out of that spot next year."

I cocked my head to the left and curiously took a step toward the man. In turn he took a step back. "Come on," I giggled, "I don't bite."

The man sighed a very sad, heavy sigh and replied quite seriously, "But I do." This made me pause long enough to hear my mother frantically calling 'Alicia', which is my name, and when I turned back the man was gone. I stared at the spot where he was moments before another 'Alicia', this one shrieked out in sheer terror, reached my ears and I began running towards mother.

Quickly I climbed back over the fence, too quickly maybe, for I tore my dress almost in half and got a small gash on my leg from the fall. This is where my mother found me, bloody, dress torn, and crying.

"Oh Alicia," she cried, running over to me and assessing my wound. Mother tore a part of my dress to cover the wound until we could get back to the house. I sniveled the whole way back to the house and after awhile mother had the sense to ask me what was wrong.

"I picked a flower," I cried loudly, holding out the now crushed purple flower in my hand. To my surprise, mother began laughing. My crying quieted and I asked, "But a flower won't grow again where I picked this one…right?" By this time I was seated on the counter in the house while mother got a washcloth to clean my cut.

"No sweetheart. A flower will grow again where you picked that one, I promise." I smiled, my tears gone.

"Good. I was very worried."

I didn't go past the fence again until I was fourteen. "Go on out Alicia and pick some flowers for the vase," Mother had told me. I walked out of the house with a basket in my hand toward the field of flowers. Once I had reached the age of ten, father put a gate in the fence so I wouldn't be tempted to climb over it any more. I skipped out to the field, my hair streaming behind me. As I have gotten older my hair grew curly instead of straight. Mother said I was backwards from her in the way that her hair had grown straight. I wasn't ashamed of my curly hair, though many people said it was the hair of a devil child. Mother would promptly clap her hands over my ears when someone said that and would later reassure me that my hair was not of the devil.

I got to the field where, this year, yellow flowers dominated. I scanned the tree line, wondering if he would be there this year. I could remember the way he looked perfectly – tall, young, bronze hair and, peculiarly, red eyes. I picked all the flowers I needed and didn't see him. I walked home slowly, quite upset.

Then I was sixteen. I didn't know where the time had gone, but I was at my first ball. It was beautiful; people were dancing everywhere and the music was intoxicating. That's where I met him, though not the boy that I had seen in the meadow all those years ago. This boy, or should I say man seeing as he was seventeen, had blonde, curly hair and a sexy southern drawl. "May I have this dance, Ma'am?" he had asked. I was eagerly given permission by my mother and off I was. We had danced for hours by the time the man suggested taking a walk. Again I blushed and merely nodded. He held out his arm which I happily took and we began to walk through the garden.

"You're not from around here, are you?" I asked curiously after a few minutes of silence. Crickets chirped around the pond where we had stopped.

The man looked over at me and shook his head. "No, but my brother has lived here for awhile and I have recently decided to come stay with him." I politely nodded, thinking.

"So, what is your name?"

He hesitated. "Jasper," he finally replied.

"A very handsome name if I do say so myself."

"Yes, I should guess so."

We walked for awhile longer, passing by nearly everything in the garden twice. As the third time passing the same statue came round, I told Jasper that my feet had begun to hurt. "We'll go take a seat then, if that is alright with you?"

I looked around for a moment, uneasy. "I think I should be getting back to the ball, don't you? It would be rude to be gone for too long…"

Jasper looked surprised and slightly frantic. "Oh I don't think it should be much trouble, Ma'am. We shall only be gone a few moments longer, just enough for you to rest your feet." To that I did agree, and we took a seat on a nearby bench surrounded by shrubs.

After a short while I stood up saying "My feet feel much better now." In fact they weren't, but I was feeling very uneasy and nervous around the Southern gentleman. Before what I knew was happening, though, I felt a rag held over my nose. I had heard about young girls getting kidnapped, but I would have never suspected it would happen to me.

I blacked out a moment later.