A/N: I'm alive! haha, I know it's a shocker. I would say sorry for not updating in about... forever, but I think I've already said it a hundred times & everyone's probably sick of hearing me apologize already. I know it's been a long time, but I've just been busy with my personal life & completely unmotivated to write a single thing. I haven't even written a word on any of my stories in a few months, at least. I just feel like all of my stories are a bit too crazy and not really worth finishing (actually I'm including this story in the list, but I figured it wasn't as bad as some of my other ones). After re-reading this today, and realizing that I do make my characters a bit too bipolar, I decided to try to at least finish this. No promises, but I'll try. Anyways... here's chapter 10. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: God, I forgot about these! I don't own Camp Rock... duuuuuhhhhh & I'm so sick of saying that, lol.

It felt like forever before anyone returned. I wasn't sure how long they'd left me in the room, since I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to care. My head was spinning - now, not only from the pain that I'd already had, but from the constant confusion I felt as I tried to put pieces together. The most nagging thought was the fact that I had no clue who I was - it had occured to me later on that once, maybe, I hadn't considered my father to be evil. Maybe, at one time, I'd even been like him.

I wanted to deny it, to say that it wasn't even possible, but I couldn't even be sure of myself at this point. I didn't even know myself.

I hated the fact that I was crying over, not the fact that I'd been kidnapped, but the thought of being someone like my father.

I wished desperately that my head would relax and stop jumping to conclusions, always assuming the worst, when I truly had no idea what was going on. For all the disturbing possibilites, it could turn out to be that I wasn't like my father at all. Maybe I was perfectly innocent in all of this; maybe it wasn't my fault I'd gotten wrapped in this mess in the first place.

And on that note, my thoughts swirled back to Shane, and Nate, who, attempting to do a good deed, had gotten themselves wrapped up in an insane mess. It was my fault, really, that they'd even gotten involved. I regretted the fact that Shane had decided to step in and try to protect me from those boys - he should've just kept walking.

And now I was crying all over again, over the fact that Shane had stopped, and had helped me, when I wasn't even sure that I'd deserved his kindness. Why had he been so caring to a complete stranger?

And then I had no time left to contemplate over things that confused me, for the next instant I heard the sound of the door to my room being opened. I wished they had untied me before they'd left, so I could at least be able to move away from the footsteps that were drawing closer by the second.

A hand touched my cheek, and I flinched away from whoever had come to stand beside me. I wanted to strike out, or at the worst simply jerk away, but the ropes that bound me tightly were strong and not easily broken.

"You know, we aren't the bad guys." I held back my gasp as I heard my father's voice in my ear, his breath hot against my cheek, and turned to block out his words. Until I'd regained some sense of up and down, I wasn't trusting either of us. The only one I would trust right now was Shane. "It was never meant to go this far. We had planned on this, somewhat - although it still hurts when you've got your daughter telling you that she hates you. Darling, we can fix your memory soon enough, and, in time, your sight."

At this, I froze. I had heard Shane say Dr. Collins had suggested that my blindness may be reversable, but to hear my father put it so plainly made me wonder if it actually was possible. Until this moment, I'd forced myself to think that I would probably be blind forever.

The sound of a second set of footsteps cut my father off, and I heard the newcomer quietly enter the room.

"Does she remember anything, at all?" The newcomer's voice was so farmilar, so recognizable, and so terrifying that I'd swear my heart jumped into my throat. This voice I knew, this voice was one that made my blood run cold, and made my thoughts immediately jump back to when I'd first met Shane, when he'd stopped those boys. This voice belonged to one of the boys in the group, the one that had acted as if he was their leader.

"You!" I couldn't hold back my gasp of shock, and a wild panic as I thought about what had nearly happened before, and how Shane wasn't anywhere around to protect me this time.

"Mitchie, let me explain -" He had stepped closer to me, and this time I fought against the ropes strapping me down. I had to do the impossible and get away.

"Darling," My father's hand touched my shoulder, and I couldn't hold back my sob any longer. I couldn't force down my panic, couldn't push away the insanity of this situation. I was so afraid, so terrified of what could happen next that I simply couldn't keep it inside. "He's not the enemy. I know you don't understand now, but once your memory's returned you'll see how it was, and you'll understand. We are not your enemies."

"We have to do something!" The boy's voice held a note of desperation, "There's got to be something you can do to reverse the medicine's effects!"

"I'm working on it." My father's voice snapped back, "And for now, you'll do good to push your personal feelings away and be professional about this." My father's warning was clear, and I noted with a measure of shock that the boy held his tongue after.

And then I was panicking all over again, for the boy who'd scared me so badly just days ago was now scared of the man - my father - who was standing beside me.

xXxXx

I didn't know what to make of any of this - somehow, I had a terrible feeling deep down in my stomach that said that, just as my father had told me, everything wasn't what it seemed. I was scared to death that maybe I had been involved in all of this in a way Shane, and myself, hadn't considered until now.

I wished, desperately, that maybe my memory would come back. At this moment, I cared more about remembering what had happened before than I did about getting my sight back.

"We've got to get her to remember, somehow." The boy's voice was quiet and I had to strain to catch his words, since he'd taken care to lower his voice. "She still needs to complete the mission, and at this point she's not fit to do anything besides give us away!"

"Maybe not," My father's voice whispered back, "This could actually work to all of our advantages, if you think about it. Mitchie's right where we want her - if you forget about the memory loss, of course - and she's close to getting the mission done already."

Mission? I frowned, wondering what in the world my mission had been, and how I was close to succeeding at it already. I hadn't done anything, besides being completely helpless and having to be rescued by Shane a million times already. I had done nothing close to 'completing a mission'.

"... in her state we can't trust her to act like she usually would - she's amnesic!" The boy's voice hissed back, "We need to develop the antidote, whatever that may be, and then we can set her out again to finish."

"Do you think I would actually have done all of this if there wasn't an antidote? Do you think I would have purposely done this if I hadn't already created the antidote?" My father's voice was thunderous as he nearly growled at the boy. "I'm just wondering if maybe she's better fit to complete the mission in her current state."

My current state. Blind, amnesic, helpless, and hopelessly confused. I wasn't anything but a problem in my current state, and I wasn't sure how my father had failed to notice that.

"The more I think about it, the more I realize that maybe it's better this way - for her, and for him, and of course for us."

"But she'll tell him about us, the moment's she's released." The boy simply sounded concerned, not for my own safety, but for his own, "It will put us in a bad position. And, if she remembers after we've let her go, she could lead him back here."

"Not necessarily." My father replied, before he lowered his voice even more, and suddenly I could no longer hear their conversation. Not that it mattered anyway, because I couldn't make head nor tail of anything they were saying. Their words were only confusing me more so, and my head was pounding at the stressful situations I'd been put in recently.

When would things start to make sense?