OH MY FUCKING GOD GUYS, IT'S HERE. IT'S FINALLY HERE. MY AUTHOR'S BLOCK HAS BEEN SWEPT AWAY AND HERE IT FUCKING IS READ THIS SHIT GUYS HOLY FUCK.


Lucinda's pale hand sweeps across the back of my neck, which is now fully accesible without the thick pale blonde locks covering it.

"He cut off your hair?" she asks quizzically, twisting a short lock of it around her finger. "Why?"

"So he can get to it better. Since he thinks he's gonna kill her anyway he's not going to be so careful where he places that knife, is he?" Sylvia reasons, her arms folded across her chest. She's leaning on a bale of hay and Lucinda is brushing through the short, curly remainder of my hair. She herself has long blonde hair, but it's darker than mine. Sylvia has dark brown, coppery, middle length spiky hair. Lucinda has wide hazel eyes, but Sylvia's are so dark and narrowed in suspicion of everything I can hardly see the dark brown glint in them.

Like everyone else here apart from the Kidnapper himself, they have scars all over their body. Lucinda's are like red and pink waves, curling and looping around, and Sylvia's are sharp and pointed, swooping into angry reddish pink arrows. Mine are a mixture of the two.

"But, personally, I think the short cut suits you more, you know?" Sylvia continues. "You seem like a no-fuss kinda chick, and I think a short hair cut would kinda be... less fuss." She gives a kind of odd chortle.

"Yeah, and it'll be out of your face more," says Lucinda optimistically. "You'll kind of need that little extra help, with your eye all... um..." Lucinda trails off awkwardly, rubbing her arm, causing one of her scars to start to bleed. She doesn't notice it.

"Fucked up," Sylvia supplies helpfully. Lucinda looks affronted by the word but I grin at Sylvia, and she offers a coy smile back.

Suddenly a loud bang catches our attention, and as we turn to look, the sound of smashing glass causes a shrill scream to rise- oh, fuck.

In the hand not clenching over the neck of two bottles- one smashed and the other full but sloshing alcohol over its side- struggles a girl.

She's a bit younger than Sylvia and I, but older than Lucinda. She has mid-length, crimped brown hair with an electric blond streak flopping over her terrified blue eyes, and has a burgundy sweater with a bloody patch on her shoulder loose on her skinny body.

"Help me!" she shrieks as she's pulled into the barn, reaching out with one hand as if she could grab one of us and she'd be taken away from this. As I stare at her outstretched fingers, I realize three of them are bent and crooked, broken. She struggles against the man's hold over the back of her sweater, and he laughs a bit until she slips out of his fingers.

Quick as a snake, his hand whips out and tangles itself in her brown hair.

As he tugs backwards, she shrieks in pain, and he gives a cruel smile as he drags her to the bloodied corner with the knives. The "murder corner", Sylvia likes to refer to it.

As soon as she is released, she realizes there's no use bolting for the door. There's a lot of here, and since we're all still here- around 15 to 30 of us here- she must've realized that to go for that door is to commit suicide. So instead, she runs into a corner and crouches there, crying. Lucinda looks at her in sympathy but Mandy-Renee is still fresh in our mind- how she spat and refused our help. I grit my teeth- Mandy-Renee was a mean whore and I doubt this confused girl is anything like her. So I march on over despite Sylvia's half-assed protest.

I stand behind her and don't know what to say. He's only brought in Mandy-Renee since I've been here - the whole three months- and I had met her already. And she had been a cow.

The girl hasn't noticed me, and she's started to sob words through her tears to herself.

"This is exactly like what Toby said," she gasps, and I feel a short jerk run through up my spine. "Exactly like what he described Juliet's dreams to be like, but worse, because it's," she gasps for air, "real."

"Oh, I don't know, those dreams were pretty fucked up." I say.

I don't know how to feel now- Toby knows what happened to me, he hasn't abandoned me,

he's gotten help, he's looking for me- but - a subscriber is here, we get tortured daily, and the food's shit.

The girl gasps and turns around right on her heels, even though she's crouching, and drops onto her butt in the hay.

"J-Juliet!" she says, her voice shaky and her face wet with blood and tears.

Her first expression was shock, surprise, but it's turned to confusion, and then horror.

"Oh my god," she says, "Toby was right." I know I should be helping her like I first intended to when I walked over here, but I can't help it-

"Is Toby alright?" I ask, feeling a lump in my throat as I ask what's been scratching the inside of my mind for the past months.

"Ah, he..." she falters. "Physically, yes. He's been working harder than ever. But emotionally and mentally, no. He's a wreck."

"Oh." I drop down on my butt beside her. "How... how is he a wreck?"

"It's painful watching his videos rather than funny now. It's weird- it's like there's an empty void inside of him. He made a video a week after you went missing. He told us about how he met you, your nightmares, about how he realized you were missing, how he misses and is worrying about you, and about how he's in love with you." the girl gulps again then peers into my face- her pupils dilate as she looks at my damaged, pale eye and her mouth opens- she's going to ask how that happened. But then her gaze flickers down.

"Oh, hey, don't... don't cry," she says, her eyebrows scrunching up in concern, making one of her newly made scars start to weep. Her eye twitches as the pain from it reaches her.

"I'm not," I answer briefly, rubbing my palm over my cheekbone to remove the evidence. When I pull it away, I find tears and blood smeared on it.

The girl looks sick as I look at my blood.

"What's your name?" I ask, still staring at my hand.

"Taylor," she answers. Suddenly I feel a shadow at my shoulder, and I see Taylor's pupils dilate again as she shrinks back.

"Is she ok?" asks Sylvia. Suddenly I realize how Sylvia must look to someone else.

With her spiky dark brown hair and almost black eyes, tall figure and sharp way of holding herself and observing everything, she's already imtimidating enough. But with the spiky red cuts all over her body, looking more like battle scars than signs of weakness and pain, she looks terrifying.

"Confused, terrified and in pain, but other than that, she's feeling fine." I reply cheerfully.

Sylvia smiles. "Good. She's not like that last whore?" I know she's refering to Mandy-Renee, so I smile back and say, "Anyone's better than Mandy-Renee. But yeah, Taylor's a lot better than her. I think if she was a doctor, she wouldn't go around sexually attacking anyone." I turn back to Taylor suddenly, and she flinches.

"Did Toby tell the world about our misadventure in the hospital with a whore-ish doctor?" I ask her, and she stares back at me, eyes wide, and shakes her head no, very gently. "Would you like to hear it? Not all nice, seeing as I was practically dying whilst the drama was happening, but, you know, interesting story and all."

Taylor's eyes flicker back up to Sylvia, who's listening attentively- I've never told a story before. And, if I remember right, Sylvia likes it when people tell stories- at least, not ones about princesses and frogs and evil witches and the like.

"Okay," says Taylor slowly, and Sylvia sinks down and crosses her legs over each other as I begin.

"So, Toby told about how I got attacked and, well, pretty much mauled, by the guy who just..." I mimick slicing into my arm, and Taylor winces. "Yeah? Well. Since I got bruises and I broke my ankle, of course, I had to go to the Hospital. Much to my distaste. I quite liked chilling with Toby and Jack.

"Anyway, I went, and I got the worst doctor ever. She had her boobs bulging out of barely buttoned up shirt, and her skirt was so small if she bent over, you'd see her- um, yeah, you get the idea. She also had ridiculously tall high heels. Anyway, this slut doctor was called Mandy-Renee. She seemed to ... like Toby." I puffed up my cheeks with air and then blew it out slowly, then continued.

"Mandy-Renee wasn't anywhere in sight, it was just Jack, Toby and I in my hospital room when Toby left the room. He was out of sight for less than five seconds when there was a WEIRD noise. Something starting happening, and Jack went to investigate. Then it was just yelling everywhere. I started panicking, but I panic... badly. I ended up choking on my own breath. Stupid, yeah.

"I only found out later that when Toby had left the room, Mandy-Renee had forced her mouth on his and tried unzipping his pants, from what Jack said," Sylvia chokes down a laugh and Taylor cringes. "So, um, yeah. She got taken somewhere, and her current husband wasn't happy. Then I kinda went to my old apartment, got smashed over the face with a brick, stored in the boot of the guy's car and taken here. I was here for a month or two when suddenly, bam, the guy comes in dragging Mandy-Renee.

"I guess I should feel bad for her or something, since the guy's her ex... husband. But she was a complete and utter bitch to everyone of us. Most of us were trying to help her."

"What happened to her?" asks Taylor. "You're talking about her in the past tense..."

"Because the guy got angry and stabbed her to death, that's why I'm talking about her in the past tense." I answer. Taylor pulls a face and says that she feels bad for Mandy-Renee, but Sylvia cuts in with, "Don't be. She was a complete whore and bitch, she was just a stealer of our precious oxygen."

Taylor makes an agitated noise and then there's another shadow.

"Drink this," says Lucinda kindly, and she bends down and pushes a plastic cup full to the brim of water into Taylor's hand. "Actually, maybe you should rinse your mouth out first, and then drink, since you've probably got a bit of blood in your mouth."

Taylor nods slowly and uncertainly and tips some into her mouth.

She swishes it around her mouth before spitting it out, and it comes out as watered down blood. Then she swigs from itd and gulps it all down.

"How do you live like this?" she asks, jerking back as suddenly one of the more unpredictable women releases a loud shriek. No-one answers. "Aren't... aren't you guys planning an escape or... or something?" She asks, her eyes starting to water.

"Of course we are," Sylvia snaps, before I walking away.

Taylor looks at me. "Tell me."

I exchange a glance in between Lucinda and I and she opens her mouth to explain.

"He plans on killing Juliet. Soon." Taylor flinches. "So we've decided to get her out, sooner. When he leaves, she'll run. Back to her house. Then get help, if she can cope."

Taylor looks over at me for confirmation- I give a short, jerky nod.

The roar of a car fills the barn. I see Sylvia across from the barn, her spine stiffening.

I slowly rise to my feet.

One minute passes.

Two minutes.

I get a cup of water and shakily drink it..

Four.

Five.

It goes on.

Twenty minutes.

He isn't coming back for a while.

Sylvia turns to me, one quick glance, and then darts across the barn. She tugs back on the large barn door, and the air suddenly falls quiet and full of tension. The only noise is one woman's heavy panting.

Sunlight shines in, making the somewhat bloodied hay glimmer like gold and rubies.

Sylvia turns back to me as I make my way towards her.

"You have to go now," she says, and there's no mistaking the urgency in her tone. "I want you to get the hell out of here, fix yourself, and then come back. With help. Don't forget. Okay? Now go. Go!" Sylvia presses her palm against my back and shoves me out into the open.

"Go as fast as you can," says Lucinda, her eyes wide. Taylor stands behind her, open-mouthed. "Don't let him catch you. Go."

I turn back to blink in the harsh light of the sun, and I hear the barn door closing behind me.

I stagger forward, breathing in fast as I experience all the familiar, but un-familiar feelings.

The yellow, dry grass crumpling under my feet. The warm prickle of the rays from the sun on my stinging skin. The gentle push of a warm, heavy wind. I start running forward, feeling a shiver pound down my spine as I feel this painful freedom.

I run until I'm completely out of breath, and I bend over, clasping my hands over my bleeding knees as I breathe deeply in. I get to the end of the winding drive way - there are recent, deep skid marks in it - and carefully pad over a mush of broken twigs and leaves, hiding in the trees along the freeway. I peer out to look at the road. There's a lot of cars roaring past.

Should I try hitchiking? There's no way in hell I'll be able to walk all the way to my house before the sun falls. If I do hitchhike, I'm running the risk of being seen by my captor, but...

I give out a ragged sigh and I step out of the trees, and a car zooming past swerves slightly as I emerge from the deep shadows. I begin to trudge down the road, feeling exposed, vulnerable, and really, really sweaty.

And it feels all wrong- my bad eye is facing towards the road, and I constantly have to turn my head to keep track of all the cars driving past. Speaking of my eye, it throbs and stings so much that I constantly have to drop down into a ball on the side of the road and bite my tongue to stop a stream of swear words shrieking out of my mouth.

The heat is near unbearable. I swear, it's burning my skin off. I'm going to be redder than I am after a fresh cutting sesh after this. I merge into the shadows cast from the friendly trees to keep from shrivelling up but still stay somewhat in view, hovering anxiously inbetween the safety and cover of the trees and standing right out in the open.

Oh, god, how much time has passed? It feels like I've been walking for hours.

After what's probably four hours of straight on walking, hunger, dehydration, and exhaustion, I hear the noise of car wheels screeching to a halt on the rough gravel on the side of the road.

Little pebbles hit and sting my legs, and I turn up my hand to shade my eyes as I turn to see the car, and the owner of the car.

The car seems vaguely familiar, and I squint as I try to look past the dark windscreen. The driver suddenly swings open the door and jumps out of his vehicle, and says, with an undertone of shock, concern, surprise, and amazement, "Juliet?"

The voice sure as hell isn't Toby's, but it's so familiar it takes me five seconds to remember how to breathe properly.


Oh my god guys. THERE. IT'S HERE IT'S THERE IT'S EVERYWHERE.

So, who do you think the MYSTERY CAR DRIVER is? :D

Omgggg guuuiiiisseeessss she's OUT! OH MY FLIPPY DOO DAAAAA!

FOLLOW FAVOURITE REVIEW AND I'LL STOP GETTING AUTHORS BLOCK AND GREAT SHIT LIKE THIS WILL BE POSTED MORE REGULARY HOLLYYY FUUCCCKKK. (Also, I've started horse-riding and archery lessons! Woot!)

BUT HOLY FUCK GUISE LIKE UNICORN DICK IDK!