I stare at the empty room, then at the camera. After a moment, I lay on the floor under the camera. I think to myself that this is a moment in which I would like to be violent, or even just to have a good cry. Instead, I lay on my back staring blankly at the ceiling.

After what feels like about 10 minutes, the door slams open. It's another of the nameless goons sporting designer suits. "What are you doing over in that corner?" he asks angrily.

"Lying on my back staring at the ceiling, of course."

"Well, you can do that in the other corner." I don't move. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"I like this corner better."

"I'm sure you do," he responds with a sneer, "but I really don't care what you like. Now get yourself moving, or I will."

"No thanks, I'll just stay here." The more he argues, the more appealing this position comes. I know he's not afraid of hurting me, that he's going to hurt me, but I just don't care. Now he's not interested in talking anymore. Crossing to where I am in three strides, he takes a big chunk of my hair and drags me to my feet. I shriek in pain, then manage between clenched teeth, "If you wanted some of my hair, you could have just asked." He grunts and shoves me across the room. I stumble against the bed, then stand, watching him.

"Lay down and stare at the ceiling now," he drips sarcasm. I shrug and lay back down. Not what he was expecting. "And stay there!" is his weak response.

I wait for him to leave the room, then roll myself slowly from where I am off the bed and under the camera. Then I begin to count slowly.

At 374, the door slams open again. "Get back over there!" I stand slowly and make my way back to the bed. "If you go under the camera again..." With that open-ended threat, he slams the door shut.

Starting at my bed, I count how many steps it takes me to cross the room. Twelve. And fifteen the other direction. Satisfied, I return to my position under the camera to examine the room more closely. I take note of the vent, which looks to small for a child of ten to crawl through. Jarod's not coming that way, but if I plan it right...

Once again the door opens. I stand and move back to the bed without him asking. When he pulls out handcuffs, though, I distance myself and shake my head.

"Oh yes," he smiles, taking pleasure in my reaction. He walks over to me slowly, and though I make one attempt to get around him, I fail miserably. He snaps one of the handcuffs (I didn't know they made them that small) onto my right hand, then drags me to the bed. After threading the handcuff around the head of the bed, he snaps the other one to my other wrist.

I can't do much but lay on the bed with my hands over my head. After some consideration, I swing myself around until I'm sitting up facing the corner. In this position, I try to find some way to sleep. It's going to be a long night.

-----

Amy made the necessary excuses, and went to bed early. Only she didn't go to sleep. She waited for her father to come in and check on her, then dressed in all black and slipped out the window.

Jarod was waiting in his car two blocks away. Amy climbed in and looked out the window as he pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence, and finally Jarod spoke. "You should probably get some sleep, it will be over an hour before we get there."

Amy looked over at him. "I don't think I could sleep if I wanted to. And I don't." Jarod shrugged, and she turned back to look out the window.

-----

My emotional exhaustion has officially run out. Now I am just mad. I begin kicking the wall, then screaming. "Let me out of this stupid place! I hate you, I hate you all! I won't do what you want, not anymore!" No response. I kick the wall some more, then try to extract my hands from their restraints. Finally, I begin to scream at the top of my lungs, stopping only to take breaths.

I think I may last as long as ten minutes, but my throat hurts and my voice is almost gone. Now I'm exhausted, and my anger is giving way to fear. I'm all alone in here. There is either no one to hear me scream, or no one who cares. They could leave me in here forever, and probably no one would care when I starved to death. Suddenly I know that if they offered me a chance to see my family at this moment, I would do anything. My family is the only hope I have left, and they have no idea where I am.

I want to go to sleep and never wake again. I wish I was never born; or better, that I was normal. "I didn't ask for this," I whisper.

If I don't have these abilities, maybe they will let me go back to my family. I begin to bang my head against the wall, slowly at first, then faster and harder. The dull pain is somehow nice, even if some back part of my brain is screaming at me to stop.

The door slams open, and I brace myself for an explosion of pain. Instead, I feel someone taking hold of my head, firmly but gently.

"Stop!" pleads an almost kind voice. Could this really be one of the heartless goons? "Please, Sydney is on his way, just calm down."

I don't fight him. Slowly he releases my head. "That's good... it will just be another minute. With that he leaves, but I don't hear the door click shut. I lean my head against the wall, staring at it and letting my eyes find patterns.

I hear Sydney's angry voice down the hall, though I can't make out the words. Then I hear his footsteps, and the door closing behin him. The first thing he does is remove the handcuffs from my hands. I let them fall, not moving.

"Who did this to you?" he asked angrily. I'm silent. "Janie, look at me." A worried tone comes into his voice. I still don't move. He turns my head and I stare blankly at him. He is scared I might have brain damage, I can see it, but I don't feel the need to reassure him.

He hits my funny bone. "Ow!" I exclaim hoarsely. He sighs in relief.

"Don't scare me like that!"

"Go away." My voice comes out as a whisper, emotionless.

"What happened to your voice?" he asks, ignoring my command.

"Watch your precious cameras," I respond bitterly.

"Janie, I'm sorry, but I didn't--"

"Go away."

"Janie--"

"Go away." I've gone back to staring at the wall.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"I hate you."

He hesitates, then decides to let the conversation end. i wait for the door to close, then lay down and close my eyes, rolling over so the camera can't see my tears.

-----

She had just managed to settle down after work and slip into a light sleep when the phone rang.

"What?!?" Somehow she managed to insert even more venom than usual into her greeting.

"Don't tell me you were asleep already."

"You know perfectly well that I was. What do you want??"

"Does she remind you of when we were kids?"

She sighed. "So that's what this is about."

"Yes. Doesn't it ever keep you up at night, knowing that they will destroy her life like they destroyed ours?"

"She's only there because YOU ran away," she responded by force of habit. "Come back home and she can go back to her family."

"You make me sick, Parker."

"See you soon," she ended with false sweetness, and they hung up simultaneously. She would never admit that she had trouble getting to sleep after the call, but somehow she though he already knew.

-----

Jarod climbed out of the car, having finished his phone call. Amy did the same. Walking around to her side, he whispered, "Ready?"

Amy nodded. Jarod continued, "No more talking from here. If anything happens, I want you to get out of here; don't worry about me." He paused. "Any questions?" She shook her head. "Okay." They started off, Amy forced to run slightly faster to keep up with Jarod. Soon they were circling the imposing building. Jarod seemed to know where he was headed and how to avoid the security, and Amy trusted him.

Jarod helped her into the ventilation duct, then climbed in himself. As soon as possible, they switched so that Jarod could lead the way.

Amy's knees were beginning to get sore when Jarod stopped. She looked past him and saw that the vent narrowed ahead--but not too small for her.

Jarod nodded. He pointed left, then held up three fingers. After that, he held up two more. Amy nodded in response, then slipped past him.

She turned into the third vent on her left. She was between the first and the second grate when she heard a commotion behind her. Jarod wasn't speaking--what was going on? She didn't dare go back yet.

She began to feel light-headed. Why was she so tired? Her head was so heavy...