Title: The Giver

Chapter: Hostile Truths

Note: Sorry about the long periods of time between posts lately. I know it's annoying and now that I've entered NaNoWriMo (writing a novel in a month); the chap after this may take a while too. But, like always, thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys rock. Also thanks to ilovejohnmayer for editing. Happy reading!

For a while I mentally obsessed over the cute guy with a stutter. But like all boys I become even vaguely interested in, he gradually left my mind.

For what it's worth, I was skeptical about even pursing a guy like this, a guy with baggage. No one denies that stuttering is baggage. But all this, this idea that stutter guy liked me, proved to just exist in my mind. Or so I thought.

It was another Friday night and I was sitting at home, watching some old Drew Barrymore movie with RJ. He was jumping around like a crazy monkey, probably from the sip of soda I gave him. He wouldn't react so crazily if my mom didn't have him eat all this natural, organic food. A little high fructose corn syrup never hurt anyone.

Then my phone buzzed, which isn't all that unusual for others, but is unusual for me. No one (seriously, no one) texts me. I thought maybe, in my ultimately hopeful mind, some dude I gave my number to forever ago finally realized he's in love with me and has decided to risk everything and reveal it to me. But it was just my mom.

'Hey Chey, Ryan and I are with some friends and they're taking their kids to Schell's arcade later. Would you be interested in going?'

Whoopee, hanging out with middle-schoolers sounds like so much fun.

'Sure mom. But who's gonna watch rj?'

Around forty-five minutes later, Mom and Ryan came back, put RJ back in regular clothes (I had reduced him to a diaper and socks) and we all went to Schell's. I never really went there as a kid, maybe for one or two birthday parties, but nothing other than that.

The place was pretty full, mostly with middle and high-schoolers, though I did spot some college guys with their obviously un-interested girlfriends battling it out on a shooting game. Mom's friend's kids' were mostly between nine and thirteen, though one lady had a runny nose toddler and another had a girl around my age, caught up in texting somebody (probably complaining about having to be here). Ryan gave me twenty bucks to buy some tokens, but I thought about spending it on a bunch of gummy snakes.

I played racing games, shooting games, even a golf game, some with RJ, some alone. I was contemplating playing one of those lottery games when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Ar…ar…are yo…you u…u…use…ing this?" Maybe, just maybe, my luck has changed, I thought.

I twisted around and with one look at his fringy (dark and long, but not too long. Kind of like a punk Zac Efron) hair, a stupid smile got slapped across my face.

"Oh, ah, probably not. Sorry." I moved out of the way and he put two tokens in the machine. I probably should have went and played another game or something, but instead I just watched him play. It was probably kind of stalker-ish, but I was interested in whether or not he'd win. The guy silently and intensely watched the spinning light-thingy. Finally, he slapped the button and the light landed on the "You win 30 tickets!" As fringy dude collected up his tickets, I slunk away to another video game. I was about to try my luck on Guitar Hero when someone patted my shoulder.

"Yo…you c...c...can have them." It was Fringy dude and he was giving me the tickets he'd won. I blushed a little at the act of chivalry. Brushing my wildly curly hair back behind my ear and smiling, I said-

"Oh, thank you, but don't you want them?" He shook his head.

"Nah, you c…c...can ha…have 'em." I took the tickets gratefully and as I turned to play the Guitar Hero, I got an idea.

"Hey, ummmm, since you gave me your tickets, did you want to play a free game of Guitar Hero, heh, on me?" Fringy dude looked from me to the game and then back to me. Then, clear as a bell, he said,

"Okay."

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I smile every time I remember that Friday night at the arcade. I got so lucky that night. If I hadn't agreed to go to the arcade, if he had decided to stay home and play Halo 3 or some other video game. Most of all, if I hadn't offered him that free game of Guitar Hero, would we have ever figured out how much we needed each other?

I should be focusing on this piece of paper I'm holding in my hand, not how I met my boyfriend. The first three lines make sense to me. That's my mom's name, that's her birthday and she told me years ago that she was born at home. But, where was home? This line, Location of birth: Unknown, is freaking me out. Mom always told me she was born in this small town in Maryland, but I guess she was lying.

Why is this important though? My mind is working to string the answers to my questions together. The Others want me to have a baby, and my mother is somehow involved. Maybe, possibly, she's an Other! No, my mother couldn't be an Other. But if she was, why would they give me her birth certificate. To turn me against her?

I also think about the woman who brought me the birth certificate. Did she do it under instruction from Ben, or is she trying to help me figure this whole mess out.

I don't touch the sandwiches, for fear of them being drugged, but my stomach is growling ferociously. A couple of frustrated tears jerk out of my eyes, but I quickly brush them away. If I have to do anything, I have to keep my mind clear. I can't just give up and fall over crying, waiting for Sawyer or Jack to come get me. I have to get a message to them. Since they left before I was taken, they should be near here by now.

I search around the plate and under the food to see if the women left any more clues, but I find nothing. As I'm about to begin searching under the bed, the door creaks open.

I can't tell who it is, so I quickly stuff the paper in my pocket while I am kneeling, hoping whoever it is can't see me, and stand up to face them.

Juliet's closes the door behind her and raises her hands up.

"I'm not armed with anything Cheyenne. But I can assure you, attacking me won't get you any closer to escaping." Whose side is she on anyway?

Juliet and I stare each other down. Her forehead is scrunched up in stress and her eyes look tired and aggregated. Her lips are in a thin frown.

"Tell me, Juliet," I say coolly, "What's the real reason I'm here?" Juliet ignores my question. Instead, she picks up the plate of sandwiches and takes one.

"Eat." To prove it's not poisoned or drugged she bites into the sandwich. I wait a couple of minutes, to see if it really is drugged, but nothing happens. She extends the plate towards me and I hesitantly pick up a sandwich.

"Eat." She says again. I'm afraid this is some kind of trick, but I doubt Juliet would drug herself. I bring the sandwich to my lips and bite.

"Good." She says, breaking out a smile, "That's not to terrible, now is it?" I say nothing, I just continue to eat.

When I'm done Juliet pulls a bottle of water from behind her and hands it to me. Then she leans down, picks up two of the small pills on the plate and hands those to me too.

"What are these?" I ask. Maybe this is a trick, some type of mind game.

"Prenatal vitamins. We have to keep you nice and healthy." Noted: the Others are very, very stubborn.

"Juliet, I am truly sorry about your troubles, but I'm not having a baby for you. I can't do it. I won't do it." I hand her back the water and the pills but she doesn't take them. Instead she sighs loudly, walks over to the door, and knocks four times loudly.

Wow, that was easy…

Too easy.

The door opens and three men come in, one holding two rather large syringes. My eyes grow wide with realization and as Juliet mouths, "I'm sorry," the men start towards me.

My body reacts faster than my mind. I drop the water and vitamins and try and run from them. But the room is small and with the exit blocked, there's no where for me to turn. Two of the men grab me and as I struggle against their hold I feel a prick in my arm and then a flash of pain and pressure. Nothing happens to my body, I don't feel drowsy or out-of-control.

In the background of my thrashing and screaming I can hear Juliet repeating the same words over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Maybe she is, but being sorry isn't helping me. I guess she can't stand the sight of this because after the first interjection she is gone, leaving me to fight alone. I see the third man, the man with the needles, tap the second syringe and I begin struggling even more. If that wasn't the sedative, this definitely is.

But then the second prick comes and I feel that familiar feeling of an uneasy and unwanted sleep. And without a second thought I feel myself slump into the men's arms and am carried away.