A/N-Please review my story!

Alana- Please people, she's holding me captive until you do….and she can't cook at all!

M/M- Yes I most certainly can! And what's up with this "eating" thing anyway?

Alana- Just review! Maybe she'll set me free…..

M/M- Or maybe not, my little prisoner.

Chapter Two

Dreams

My dreams were cloudy, a mishmash of images. Images of utmost pain and horror.

A courtroom. I sat in my chair, watching, my face an emotionless mask, a mask to hide my fear. My mother, my mommy, my momma, she had always been impulsive, living in the moment. She signed first.

Then my father, my daddy, my dodi, he had always been generous. He was willing to give his signature, at the cost of his own pain. He hesitated, then he did it. The ultimate undoing of oaths. He wrote his name next to Mom's.

The deed was done. My life was officially torn in two.

A hallway. I stared in tormented agony as Jason kissed her, kissed his demon girlfriend. I heard the words through the noise of hundreds of lockers, voices, and feet, like knives, plunging into my heart.

"Would you like to go to the dance with me?"

My secret crush was within the demon's grasp, and I knew she'd never, ever, let him go.

A yard. My gaze was riveted on Ben as he ran into the street after a stray ball. I was frozen helpless as I saw the car hit him at twice the speed limit, easy.

I saw blood fly everywhere, saw his arms and legs bent at impossible angles. Saw his eyes flutter closed. Saw his chest halt the rise and fall of breathing.

Saw my Ben's life end at the age of five.

Saw an innocent life snuffed out like a candle, gone.

Dreaming, I realize something. I am always the watcher. I never act, only observe others act, observe my own life even. I never work to change my life. What would it have been like if I had? And I feel, but if I am not part of the world, are my emotions just washed out ghosts of the real thing? Am I even human if I do not truly experience feelings?

The dreams soon obliterated my train of thought.

The first day of school. Nobody would talk to me; I was too different, an outcast. Sitting alone and knowing it was going to be a long year.

A computer screen. Seeing the words, so stark, so matter-of-fact on the white background. Seeing people tell me things they never would in person.

A thousand different voices and faces in a thousand different settings, telling me over and over,

"No, we can't, Alana. We just don't have the money."

Thinking it was going to be impossible to climb out of my hole of unpopularity. Thinking I never would, not without the right clothes, the right makeup, the right shoes. Thinking over and over and over again, Why me?

And so it continued, my horrors showcased for me, a long parade of pain.

It would have gone on longer had a noise not awoken me. Something crashed onto the floor, and I sat up in shock.

I then proceeded to scream in terror at the thing before me.

A/N- Alana- About that food you promised me…..

M/M- FINE! Let's get you some nice homemade cereal.

Alana- From the box. I'm very sick of Fruit Loops, you know.

M/M- Soooooo? You are my captive! I do whatever I want with you!

Alana- Help me!