A/N: Thank you, you amazing people that read, reviewed, added to alerts and even to favorites! You are awesome :)

I hope I don't let you down. TWO chapters in the same night. Uhuh.

Disclaimer: I studied half of the time that I should have for my Geography test because I was thinking about this story. Do the real writers have geography tests? ;p


February the 16th, 2013

Castle,

It's been a while since I actually wrote something… My hand feels unstable and my handwriting is coming out weird. I apologize for that (in case you ever read this).

The last time I wrote to you was six months ago, but then there were no more pages left in the notebook and it's not like they bother buying me gifts every day.

A couple days ago they actually brought me this new one and since then I've been thinking about whether or not I should start writing to you again. I used to do it to my mom before, but then I was told this wasn't good for my mental health. But what is, anyway? I mean, I've been closed between this four walls for a year now, reading old books because that's all I have to occupy my time. I am given food once (sometimes twice) a day, and I spend hours in the dark when the power is off for some reason, even during the day. Oh, this doesn't seem so bad when written does it? But believe me, it is. So, I don't care I'm writing letters that you will never read, I don't care I'm sitting here imagining all of your reactions to every word of mine, I don't care if they say that the next step is me getting delusional and believing you're actually here. Bullshit. Right now, you…You are my only escape. You will keep me sane. Writing for you warms my heart and missing you seems a little less painful.

As I was saying, six months have passed since the last time I wrote to you and one year since I saw you for the last time. I still don't know whether you're alive or…not. Every day, when I fall asleep, I can still see you, laying there, your eyes closed as he pulled me back. I'm still not sure if I wanted you to have opened your eyes or not, on one hand I didn't want you to see me leaving you but on the other hand, I'd give anything to see your blue eyes again. I still think I saw you trying to get up and looking around. Were you looking for me? Maybe it was all my imagination and I didn't see a thing. Still, I prefer to believe you did get up, because that means there's still a chance that you got out of that building in time, before it blew up. One thing I know: when I was plucked out from you, I could still see your chest slowly rising up and down, as if you were asleep at home. So you could be alive. You have to be alive.

My scar, my second scar, aches today more than ever. It's been a year since they shot my right leg so I would leave a trace of blood behind to trick you all. Those smart little bastards.

I used to believe you would be smarter than them, and that you would keep digging in until you found me. After all, you are my plucky sidekick, right? But it's been a year, Castle. A year, and you're not here. Not you, not anyone else.

I wish they would tell me what they want. My gut tells me that I wouldn't be willing to give it, but I wish I knew. For how long do they intend to keep me here? What will they do to me? Shoot me? Force me to stay here forever? So many questions and there's no one here to answer them. You know, I've felt alone before, but never so lonely.

I'm afraid of what's going to happen to me if they keep me here. I don't know how much longer I can take.

At any moment one of them should be here with the so called food. (You know, a piece of crusty bread, a glass of water and, if I'm lucky, some pasta from two days ago, along with undercooked meat) The food is not the worst part though, at least when I'm eating I'm doing something. The worst part are the minutes that look like hours and the hours that look like days. Time is just so slow down here.

It's Carlton, the one who's coming. I can tell by the footsteps. Yes, this is so quiet that I learnt how to distinguish them by the sound of their footsteps. I get it right 70% of the times. (Did that just sound like something you would say?)

Carlton it's not the worst of them. He doesn't talk much, he just drops the food.

I better close this.

With love,

Kate


A/N: So, this chapter came off way lighter than what I had planned. This happened because I left out a strong plot element to allow you guys to get to know Beckett's situation a little bit more before we go any further. I hope you don't mind :/

Let me know what you thought. When I see a review alert I'm telling you, the biggest of the smiles appears on my face right away :p

But most of all, I honestly hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Clara