Here is the third chapter.  Please review this.  I know I suck, but I'm trying my best.  Just tell me what I need to work on. PLEASE!!!  Thanks.  The Beginning of the Truth

I decided to get up and inspect my living area.  I turned on the light and finally saw how big it really was.  My jaw dropped to the floor in amazement.  This room must have been the size of one of those fancy suites that the hotels have.  My bathroom had it's own Jacuzzi.  I never stayed in anything like this before.

Yet, something was missing throughout all of this…my parents, friends.  I missed my mom and dad so much, and my friends….my friends.  I wonder what happened to me that got me here?  I try to make a fist with my hands, but there were bandages on them.  I could see a little blood stain on the bandage.  As I slowly unwrap them I see the dressings become bloodier.  Finally I reach the end of them and see a marking that looked like this:

0

One on each hand.  I had never seen this kind of marking before.  How did they get here?

*Knock Knock*

"Come in."

"Good afternoon Miss Adrienne," a servant said with a big silver plate.

"Please call me Adrienne."

"Yes Miss Adrienne."

"What ever…," I muttered under my breath.  Right now I was too frustrated with everything that was happening.

"Mr. Sark ordered me to send you something to eat.  I hope a simple grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup, and a lemonade will satisfy your tongue?," he questioned.

"Sure, it sounds good to me."

He set down the plate on the table and before he walked out, "Oh, and Mr. Sark is expecting you after you've eaten and rested a bit."

"Thank you…" I look at my clothes and see they are very rumpled and not presentable to be walking around in this fancy place. "Uh…do you happen to have a pair of jeans and a shirt for me to wear?"

"Yes, in the closet next to the bed, there should be some clothes your size."

"Thank you very much."

            I walk hungrily to the food and begin to chow down.  Hm….not bad, but not as good as my mother made it.  After I'm done I decide I don't have to rest.  Surprisingly it seems that after all I have been through I feel, not fine, but perfect!  Kind of interesting.  I decide to take a shower since I've probably been in that bed for a long time.  As I step into the shower, the water feels so relaxing to me.  I scrub myself until I'm sparkling clean.  I change the bandages on my hands.  I check the closet and find a nice pair of jeans and a simple gray tank top with a long sleeve shirt over it.  I settle on venturing outside of my "confines."

I close the door behind me and my eyes bulge out of shock.  To sum it up, I'm pretty much staying in a Windsor Castle.  I expect the Queen of England to gracefully walk past me and I bow down to her.  It was that beautiful.  I walk down the stairs, and the butler points me to where Sark is sitting. 

"Why are you not resting?" he demands sternly.

"Woah…I'm fine," I protest.

"Ok, well you may sit down," as he pulls out a chair across from where he is sitting.

I'm still in awe of this place, and don't know how I managed to sit in the chair without falling off.  "This is one hell of a place."

"Thank you, it was my father's," he replies gingerly.

"Oh….," not knowing what to say since he said was.  "Sorry that he died."

"It is not your fault."

"Ok, so…can I please know why I am here?", I begged him.

"…yes…," he replied hesitantly.

I laughed and said, "Changed your mind so soon?"  I was going to say something more, but stopped when I saw the sternness in his eyes.

"There is no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."

I was starting to get scared at what he was going to say. 

"I'll start from the beginning…I work for a terrorist gro…

"WHAT!!!" I interrupt him.  "I'm being held prisoner by a terrorist???

"Oh bloody hell…it's not like that."

"How can you mean it's not like that.  You just said you are a terrorist," still screaming.

"Please, let me finish."

"Why should I?"

"Because I have all the answers you are looking for."

"…." I can't say anything.

"I am an undercover spy for MI16.  In other words for British Intelligence.  My undercover work was to be a double agent working to shut down a woman called Irina Derevko.  Later Irina allied with SD-6, another terrorist group, and I was ordered to gain information from them as well.  It was all very complicated.  The head of SD-6, Arvin Sloane, was a fanatic about this man called Milo Rambaldi.  He was a man that lived hundreds of years ago and prophesized about future events.  Sloane had his agents hunt all over the world for his many machines he invented.  These were eccentric things, such as writing in machine code when it did not exist in his time.  All of these inventions were connected in some strange way.  MI16 was very curious about this Milo Rambaldi as well.  There was this one book he wrote…this is hard to tell you."  He looks away from me, I can see how hard this is to tell me.             

"It's ok.  I can bear this," I said reassuringly.

"Here I go.  He wrote many prophecies, and they all have come true.  There was a book he wrote, on page 47 he had this prophecy…'Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works.  Bind them with fury, a burning anger unless prevented at vulgar cost this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation.'  So…you aren't your mother and father's child.