a/n: Not so sure about this chapter. Warning: it's about to get dark. Really dark. I did not go into details. It's just dark. You may not want to read this if that idea bothers you.

Gracie's Journal 7/25/29

I am done. Everything hurts, burns, stings. I can't take a deep breath in because my ribs and my lungs hurt too much.

I'm scared. Of course, I can't tell admit that. But damn it I'm afraid.

I don't want to be writing about this. But here I am. I guess I don't have much choice.

Mom's here, so is Dad. Mom was crying earlier, Dad was comforting her. His eyes were
teary too, and it was like a damn soap opera in here. You know when the young girl is in grave condition and the family has to make a decision about what's coming.

Except I'm not in grave condition. Maybe mental health wise, but not physically. Physically, I'm bruised, beaten, burnt, scarred. But mentally, I need my Uncle Nate back.

Since it all happened, everything has occured to me in flashes, like
a buzz. I just can't catch a grip, a hold of it.

And now my usually sun-kissed tan skin is pale as my bed sheets, and the harsh artificial lighting makes it paler in comparison.

I can't see anyone who isn't my Mom or Dad. I heard Mom tell Dad that Clayton is having a fit.

I can't be seen. I look like hell. But apparently if I'm shocked or scared, I could become violent.
I don't want to talk about what happened to me. But here's the quickest version of the story that I can come up with.

Team camp. That happened. Mom and Dad had a case a billion years ago. Some idiot got out of jail. They decided it would be fun to kidnap me from team camp and try to kill me.

So they catch me in the dark, on the way back to the tents and stuff. I'd left my headband back at one of the diamonds, and went
back alone in the dark. And attacked. I was targeted.

The crazy kidnapper dude tried everything to kill me- except for actually killing me. Burns, cuts, beatings. Lots of things.
Lots of things I just don't want to talk about.

And the entire time, I was completely emotionless. Over it. Done. I kept holding on to that hope- that Mom and Dad are really good at their jobs and this is what. They do and they will
find me.

But their jobs got me in this mess in the first place.

Once they found me, I was deemed mentally unstable and placed in this little isolated hospital room. I've been poked and prodded like a little test subject.

I'm really confused. There's so much going on. I don't understand. I found this, and my I-Pod at the foot of my bed. I have
no idea where my phone is. I want it.

Right now, Dad is getting a phone call in the hall. He looks angry, upset. He hangs up, and whispers something to Mom. She seems angry, devastated. He struggles then. Part of him is pulling away, part of him is trying to drawl in.

And he kisses Mom, grabs her shoulders. He hugs her. And now, he's walking away. Mom's looking back at him, eyes filled
with tears again. Her hands brush strands of hair away from her face. She glances at me through the window.

She's bawling her eyes out.

God help us all.

-Gracie