A/N: This chapter is okay, by my standards. I might change some stuff up later (Nothing big, I promise. Just flowy things and make it sound less rambly. I promise.) It's definitely an improvement from the last one though, so that's good. I'm excited to see if I get any good reviews. Wish me luck that this is better than my last try. Thanks, and please review your thoughts on this chapter!


When I was little, I used to daydream about superheroes. They were, in my young mind, beautiful, smart, strong, and only had one flaw or maybe kryptonite. They grew up on a different planet that gave them powers most can only dream about. I guess the idea came from watching Star Wars so many times, one of the only movies I was allowed to watch.

Then, one sleepless night, it came to me.

Superheroes didn't exist; if they did, I wouldn't still be locked up in this house, cleaning for a family I hated, trying to remember what my mother and father's faces looked like. Or maybe at least they would have made the world a better place, one slightly more liveable for me. A place where my hands weren't raw from cleaning dishes, or legs that were exhausted from standing all day.

When I was eleven - almost twelve, in fact - I found that superheroes never are what they seem. Mine came in the form of a detective and her consultant. I still remember that day quite clearly, actually. The day my life changed forever.

I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself. My name's Phoenix Skywalker, well, at least that's what I call myself. And this? This is my story.


"Phoenix!" I almost hit my head on the low attic ceiling when I heard his voice calling me, electric blue eyes blinking in the early morning light. "Where are you!? Breakfast won't make itself!"

I groaned, glaring at the alarm clock next to my bed. It never seemed to work, but when you had exactly two dollars and fifty-six cents hidden in a sock underneath a mattress, you had to make do with the best you got. Maybe I could ask for a new one from them, I thought, then immediately dispelled it. I already knew that answer.

Instead I stood and threw on a t-shirt and shorts, sweating in the hot, compact space that was a sorry excuse for a room. After another yell came from downstairs, I knew better than to take the time to braid my hair like usual. Somehow I managed to brush it through a few times before tossing it up in a high ponytail that most girls my age wear. It was wavy today, having been in a braid all night.

"Girl! Now!"

"Coming, sir!" I yelled, smoothing back the greasy strands one last time. Then I jogged out of the room and downstairs, making it into the kitchen in record time. The stove was already on, a small act of kindness most likely by the wife. I quickly retrieved eggs and bacon from the fridge, readying them both as fast as I could while putting on some coffee.

"Hurry it up!" Even though I was only a few feet away from now, Master only yelled marginally softer. He was, in short, a man I've come to hate the past eight years. His name, although I wasn't allowed to call him by it, was William Cade. He was a businessman in a company that was somewhat steady. With his bald head and beer belly, most wouldn't be able to tell it.

The wife walked in then, giving me a small glare. "Phoenix, you were supposed to be up twenty minutes ago." Jenna Cade was the exact opposite of her husband, appearance wise. She was toothpick thin and a "stay at home mom", meaning she watched TV while I cleaned, occasionally forcing me to learn from a textbook or two.

"My alarm didn't work, Ma'am." I flipped the bacon, making sure to avert my eyes. It was best to stay quiet and let them win.

"My alarm didn't work, Ma'am." she mocked. "Well then fix it!"

"Yes ma'am." I replied, putting breakfast in front of the couple, taking the coffee and pouring it in their cups when it was done brewing. This was a normal day for me for a long time. In fact, in that time, I'd come up with rules that kept me from getting hurt, both physically and mentally. One, never argue. Two, never ask questions. Three, do as you're told. Four, take the punishments the best you can. Five...Never let them see you cry.

Five I'd learned well over the years. I was three years old, give or take, when I was kidnapped from my mother. I don't remember her, or any siblings if I had some. Definitely not a father. My kidnappers were slave traders, and I was illegally sold to the Cade family. The first few nights I cried for hours and hours, howling and screaming. That, of course, was a bad idea. It was maybe a week until Master beat me, bloodying my fragile skin. I made those rules that night, and by the time I was five years old, I was used to working around the clock.

"Ma'am, what are my chores for today?" I asked, polite as ever. It was one of the only questions I'd let myself ask, for my safety mostly.

It was Master who answered me, unkind greenish blue eyes glaring at me from underneath his thick eyebrows. "I have business over tonight. You know what that means."

I nodded, cleaning up the pan I had used. "Yes sir."

"Jen will make sure you have nice clothes, nicer than usual. Shower after work, and make sure you're ready by six."

Another mumbled, "Yes sir," as I quickly moved into the living room to start the chores as soon as possible. Days like these were always the best; showers were set for longer than three or four minutes, cleaning seemed to go faster, and at the table, when I was eating with everyone, it felt like I was in an actual family. It was stupid, of course. I had no family, nor will I ever. I'd be here until they released me, and that might never happen.

But the only thing that they couldn't take away were my dreams and hopes, night and daytime ones.

I had many different sorts of dreams, of course. Some during the night were odd, like things chasing me in a dark pit, their scowls and screams making me run as fast as I could. But for the majority, the others (those when I was daydreaming also) were dreams of my escape. Sometimes I imagined stealing money from my captors, and buying a plane ticket to a place far away from here. Others, I fantasized that the cops would investigate and bring them to jail, and me to my mother.

As I got on my knees to clean the bottom of the glass coffee table, I tried bringing her face to me again. Like usual, there was nothing. Years away of separation had wiped her face from my memory. I spent mornings where I awoke early looking in the mirror, watching my reflection and wondering if I resembled my mother. Or maybe my father, or a sibling.

After a sigh, I shook the thought from my mind. Work. I needed to get work done, so I can take a ten minute shower. The last time we had company over was a month or two ago, and since then I've had about one or two showers a week at five minutes top each. Cleanliness sounded nice right about now, as it always did.

But, unfortunately, my mind wandered as it usually did on days like these. Children my age walked by my house, oblivious to my sigh and jealous sigh. What was it like to have friends? Family? Education? I'd never had any of that, although, the wife had to teach me quite a few things to keep up pretenses of homeschooling. Either way, I still wanted it. I wanted all of it. So, basically, I wanted freedom.

Freedom. I smiled to myself as I got out the broom and swept the hardwood floors, letting myself make believe that I was going to be free someday. The daydreams were taking over again, and my smile grew as I thought about what it would be like. I'd have all that I had ever wanted, ever would need. I'd be normal.

My thoughts were shaken by a rather large burst of thunder, and I jumped, looking out the window again. In the hour or two I'd been awake, the weather had taken a complete u-turn, unbeknownst to me. I listened, head cocked, for a second as the rain pelted the roof in a sudden downpour. It played a beautiful symphony with different pitches and beats.

"Hey!" An arm gripped mine tightly, making me shake out of my reverie. The Master had caught me. Almost immediately I winced, waiting for the slap. But instead there was a growl, and the hand let me go. "You're lucky I have business over tonight. Now go in a different room so I won't have to look at your filth."

I was shaking as I made my way to the master bedroom, listening to the door open and close. He had left for work early, it seemed. The TV turned on in the living room, the Wife turning into her daily soap opera. I took a few minutes to try to steady my rapid breathing and lower my adrenaline levels. I was okay. There was no punishment today.

In minutes, I was back to cleaning. My mind was locked on my task. No more of that. I'd never be free again anyways, and rain was just rain. If I wanted to live to be twelve, I needed to clean and stay focused. There was no time to daydream when work was to be done; imagination was my enemy.

The rain continued to pound on the roof to the beat of my heart as a few tears escaped.


By the time I was done taking my shower, it was almost five o'clock. Clothes were laying on my bed, and as I put them on, I relished their soft cotton and perfect fit. It was a rarity to have some this nice, and I immediately knew to put them in the bottom of my small dresser. I could never wear something this nice cleaning.

Brushing through my hair, I studied my reflection. Pretty soon, they'd have to feed me more, I realized. I was slowly lapsing from a thin healthy child to bony and underfed, and it would never work with their lies that I was an adopted child. My blonde hair was growing past the small of my back; I'd have to steal the kitchen scissors again and cut it soon. Even in the braid I put it in, it still snaked past my shoulder blades.

Through it all though I looked like an average child. I took a moment to study my posture, relaxing a bit when I didn't like how old I looked. My eyes were dulled slightly to give off the impression of a child who wanted to play and not eat with a boring group of strangers. I sighed. This was as good as it would get.

I made my way downstairs to meet with the wife. She always made sure that I looked fitting enough to be a daughter of the great Cade family. When I found her, she was finishing up dinner preparations (I'd been given the night off too look nice) and put the food in the oven. "Ma'am?"

She glanced at me. "Fine. Now you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm mother starting at six."

I nodded. A few years I accidentally called them ma'am and sir, and I'd gotten quite a few odd looks. Ever since, I'd been reminded nonstop before whatever would be happening that night. "Yes ma'am."

"There's a Gameboy on the mantle, play on it."

After a final yes ma'am, I turned to leave, but the Master came in, home from work for the first time that day. "Hello dear." he gave his wife a kiss and me a glare. "You better not mess this one up, slave."

I didn't know how to respond so I nodded and quietly went into the living room. Sure enough, a battered purple Gameboy sat on the mantle, the only game that the Wife bought already inserted. I sat on the floor, turning it on and dully playing it. There was a knock on the door a few minutes later, and I took a deep breath. Here goes.

The Master said something about being early to his wife, and a glance at the clock proved that the guests were indeed roughly forty-five minutes early. He ventured through the living room to go to the front door, giving me a warning glare as he did so. I buried my head deep in the game obediently.

"Hello!"

"Hello, William Cade?"

His tone had changed when he spoke again, to my surprise. "Yes, that's me. Who's asking?"

I peeked up to see a woman and man standing in the doorway. My eyes couldn't help but widen as the woman showed my Master a badge, wet from the still steadily falling rain. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. This is my consultant, Rick Castle. May we come in?"

My heart sped up as I returned to my game, trying to focus on it as he replied, "Of course, but I do have company over soon."

"That's alright, we'll be quick." this was from the man, who finished with a smile.

They were let in to the entry, and Castle glanced at me. "That your daughter?"

I could see the Master cringe internally. "Yes, actually. Phoenix."

"I remember when my daughter was that little." he got a slightly misty look in his eyes, but just as soon it was gone.

The detective gave him a pleasant smile. "We just have a few questions; there was a murder down the street this morning, and we're canvassing for suspicious sounds anyone may of heard."

My heart fell. They weren't here for me. Of course not.

"...My daughter and wife were the only ones home."

She gave him a smile. "Lets talk to the daughter first then, followed by the wife. Is there someplace private?"

He gave her a suspicious glare. "Can't I stay with?"

"Protocol, sir. Just so if someone has a different story than the other, we know someone must be lying. That sort of thing. Don't worry, it won't take long."

For a second, he was silent, as if mulling over his choices. Then he nodded. "Phoenix can take you to her room."

"Thank you." Rick smiled, the detective echoing her thanks.

I stood up slowly, taking my time stretching, before motioning them to follow me up the stairs to the attic. They were silent as they followed, and I tried to keep up my facade through my crushed hopes by bounding up the stairs. Finally, we were at the door to the attic. The humid air made it stick, something I'd long since gotten used to.

"Allow me." the consultant smiled, and I moved to let him through.

After a few tries, he forced the door open and the smell of rain met us. I breathed it in deeply, letting its unique scent encompass me in comfort. "Here we are." I lightly said, going to my bed and plopping on it. A spring poked me uncomfortably, but I refrained from wincing. Beckett shut the door behind her the best she could. And then it was quiet for a few minutes, and they just stared. Beckett was the first to speak, and her words changed my life forever.

"We're getting you out of here."