(A/N: watrfairie, you were curious as to why Chelmak and Cyrillianna hadn't attempted to escape before. I had thought it would be obvious, but I guess I was wrong. They need Cathy in order to go back to Earth so they were just waiting for a chance to find her. Hope that helps!)

And so went the car ride. It was silent and torturous. My dress had ridden further up my ass. I had just been through the three weirdest days of my life in a row and now it was probably going to end with some bizarre form of ritual sacrifice. We reached a tall hill that was covered in dead brown grass, a huge inconsistency from what we had already seen. Not. At the top of the hill was what could be described as the most luxurious trailer in all the world. It was long, silver and wide. It must have taken up two lanes of traffic when toted along. Chelmak drove up to the trailer and killed the engine.

"Welcome home, Cathy Kyrria."

I rolled my eyes irritably. It had always been my dearest ambition to live in Wyoming in a trailer on a tall hill of dead grass. Sadly, my hopes had been dashed when I realized that trailers were small, Wyoming had little water, and dead grass was ugly. Now it seemed that my dreams were rolling back to me.

Chelmak assisted me generously out of the backseat and hoisted me under his arm.

"You're hefty," he laughed.

You are the bane of all adolescent females. It's bastards like you that make us anorexic. I hate you. I wanted to say. Since I couldn't, I twisted around and bit him on the stomach. It was hard to get a hold of any skin, but once I managed, he was not a happy camper. He cried out and nearly dropped me. Now, wouldn't you have preferred the verbal response?

"She bit me!" He cried to his sister.

"Make her walk." Cyrillianna waved her hand and undid the ropes around my ankles. Chelmak held me by my hair, which, in case it wasn't apparent, hurt a lot. So I walked all the way to the trailer without giving the son of a fairy trouble. The sky above us had begun to darken with approaching night. Night was a good time to start feeling despair.

I feel despair, I thought sadly. Chelmak hauled me into the trailer and I was shoved onto the floor by Cyrillianna. The trailer was indeed luxurious, but I felt nothing in the way of awe. Crappy or cosmic, I was still a hostage.

"Is the chamber ready?" Cyrillianna asked her brother.

"Yes," Chelmak peered at the end of the trailer. "Toss her in?"

"Of course,"

Chelmak winched me up again and dragged me down to the far side of the trailer. We passed through a spacious kitchen, a lavish bedroom, and a sitting room. The last room had a pallet, a toilet, a sink, and a shower. But no windows. At least they believed in hygiene. Before abandoning me, Chelmak undid the ropes around my wrists.

"Enjoy your stay, Highness," he bowed and slammed the door behind himself. Then, through a small slot in the door he spoke to me again. "Food will come later."

Okay. I thought. I'll be here. Thank you for insuring my survival in captivity.

Ah, what a wonderful life I led. I fell onto my pallet and began to scratch the red areas where the rope had cut into my skin. It hurt but it felt good. One of those weird paradoxes of life. Man, my outfit was so wacky. It was over one shoulder, short, and just so Pebbles. Why in the world would they put me in this of all things? Why did they change my outfit at all? Probably the white atrocity was too foofy. My room was ill-lit, only a few lights on the walls, small, and boring. I half-wished that he had left the ropes around my wrists. At least that way I'd have something to entertain myself with. I could struggle to chew them off or something.

I wanted to talk, sing, be obnoxious, abuse Michelle, see Char and smooch his face off. Well, not literally, because that would be messy and gross. Sighing, I walked over to the toilet, took a piddle, washed my hands and sat back down.

Wow, that was exciting.

"Cathy," Chelmak peeped through the flap at me. "I have your dinner." He opened the door and came in. I glared at him and realized that didn't do me any good, so I changed tact and looked at the soup he had instead. It looked good. Smelled good. Soon I would discover that it tasted good as well. I sat on my pallet eating ravenously. It was vegetable soup. I loved vegetable soup.

I sighed inaudibly in satisfaction.

"Done?"

I nodded. Then I gave him a puppy-dog look, rather hoping he would ask what was wrong and allow me to speak.

He didn't seem to notice. I made my eyes bigger. He still didn't notice. I stretched them as far as they could go. He took the bowl and made a funny face.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I can't respond, bozo. I made my lip tremble.

"Oh I get it, you want me to give you permission to make noise."

I nodded eagerly and gave him my award-winning grin.

"Sorry," he left and slammed the door behind him.

BASTARD! BLOODY WANKER! EFFING MAGGOT! I HOPE YOU DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS! RARR! I slammed my fists furiously on the door until I realized that it hurt.

I hate being cursed, so much! I sniffed quietly and cried a bit. I curled up into a ball on my pallet and fell asleep.

The next morning, or what must have been morning, I was awoken by Chelmak serving me toast and eggs. At least they fed me well. Maybe they planned to fatten me up and feed me to the Wicked Witch of the West Coast. I chewed, swallowed, chewed, and swallowed some more. Chelmak stood watch, as though making sure I didn't try to stab myself with the fork. I had a low threshold for pain, so he needn't have worried, but I wasn't about to tell him that. For one thing, it would make his life easier, and for the more important point, I still wasn't able to talk.

Shubedooshadoobedodow… in my head I sang a song from the middle school musical One Magic Moment. I had been a "Shalala" Waitress. What a waste of life. I danced around desks and sang a dorky song about a waitress who had stalked some customer. Bah. But I'd had to do it because my teacher told me to. Well, she hadn't meant it to be a command, but she said "you should get involved more, do the play, Cathy." I auditioned, got a lame part and voila, I was dancing around tables.

Chelmak was tapping his foot impatiently. I nibbled at my toast, deciding to try and annoy him.

"Eat faster," he finally blurted. "I don't have all day,"

But I do. Still, I ate a smidgeon faster. Two could play at this game.

"That's not faster," he frowned. "I said 'eat faster.'"

It wasn't a command. I continued my nibbling.

"Oh! You're evading the command as best you can! Eat that piece of toast in less than twenty seconds." He commanded.

Shit. I shoved the entire thing into my mouth and began to chew. I looked at him and chewed with my mouth open, making nasty smacking sounds with my lips. It had the desired effect, he looked ill.

"Chew with your mouth closed, you pig," his lip curled.

So I did. I swallowed and licked my lips obnoxiously and then started nibbling the second piece slowly.

"Eat that one in less than twenty seconds with your mouth closed," he thought he was so clever.

I lifted an eyebrow at him. I started trying to ram the toast in through my closed lips. It was difficult and I wasn't doing very well.

"Open your mouth and put the toast in!" He stomped his foot impatiently.

I threw it in and started chewing disgustingly again.

"Ah! There's no stopping you, is there?"

I looked at him and raised my eyebrows.

"What?"

I raised them higher. Give me an invitation to speak. I swallowed.

"All right, you can tell me," he sighed.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "If you let me speak and sing and make noise, I won't be such an obnoxious and disgusting eater anymore, I promise."

I paused, hoping upon hope that he'd let me.

"Why would you care? You're all alone in here."

"Because," I explained, "I have always enjoyed talking to myself and singing and stuff. Sound proof the room, you're a fairy, but let me have my voice."

"All right, fine."

"Woo!" I cheered, upsetting my eggs. "Oops." I picked them up off of my pallet and gathered them hastily on my plate. "Bottom's up!" I dug in and ate quickly and neatly. He left looking a bit surprised but didn't forget to slam the door behind him, reminding me of my prison.

"But I've got a voice!" I said to the room. "Oh yes I do! Shubedoosha and shubedoodoo!"

So that was how my first week of captivity went. I'd be fed two times a day, Chelmak watching me. I only showered at night. I thought about trying to drown myself but in the end, not only was it pointless, but I had never truly thought myself capable of suicide, no matter how bored or depressed I was. I sang, I danced (more like flailing around), I had goofy conversations with myself and I had deep and theoretical conversations with famous people or Char or my family. I wondered if they missed me. They probably did in all reality, but most of the time I felt like an unnecessary addendum to the family.

I haven't said much about my family, and the little I've said isn't nice. They're really not that horrible. My real mother divorced my father for some wealthy old businessman named Harold Asher Cutler the Sixth when I was about four, so that has never really bothered me all that much. I haven't seen or heard from her since. From what Dad ever said about her, it sounded like the only thing she ever thought of me was that I caused stretch marks to appear on her once perfect tummy. You'd think I would feel unloved and worthless because of that, but that's not why. I just have a natural inferiority complex. My mother is the past and I don't even remember what she looks like. Nor do I care. My Dad worked a lot, mostly put me in daycare until he met my stepmother. Jeanette is a nice enough lady, but she is a stick-up-the-ass businesswoman in the end. Her kids are actually my half-siblings except for the oldest one, who's off in college anyway. I never really talk to him, though I do hate him for setting the standard so high. Yeah, he got into Duke, the worthless slut. My little half-sister and half-brother are twins, obviously not identical. Jeanette usually used me as a free babysitter until they got a bit older. They're cute, but man are they evil. Some of the pranks they've come up with are pretty creepy. Funny, but creepy because they're only seven. They're wicked smart. Once I've graduated and moved, my family will probably never think about me again. Well, maybe during the winter holiday season, but that's about it.

"If I survive this, it will be interesting to see their reactions," I muttered.

Jeanette isn't an evil stepmother, but it's clear to me that she would have found wedding my father much easier if I hadn't been around. Whenever I get into a fight with her, she accuses me of hating her for taking my mother's place, which is hardly true.

"You just don't want me here! You treat me like a wicked stepmother!" She'd whine. "I don't mean to take your mother's place but-."

"What, you mean as the woman who ran off with a smelly old man?" I would always respond. "She has no place here save for half my genes, which would explain why I'm so attracted to older men."

And then she'd get even angrier at me and tell me not to be such a smartass.

Still, home was much better than this little confinement zone I was stuck in.

One night I fell asleep and had a dream that I could fly. So I flew around my room for a bit and then decided to fly through the wall. Somehow it worked and seemed perfectly acceptable in my dream. So I flew all the way to Africa where I found Char sitting on a kangaroo's back.

"Hello, Char, you look mighty hoppy tonight," I said.

"I'm just hoppy to see you, Cathy," he said, grinning deviously at me. "Get on a kangaroo," he told me. "We can hop together forever."

"But Char," I said logically. "There aren't any kangaroos in Africa."

"Oh no! You're right! He said. "I'd better put this one back where I found it!"

"Yes, but you look so comfortable,"

"I am," he agreed. "But you look like you're stuck in a fancy trailer in the ugliest room in the world."

"Ah, so I do," I sighed. "Let's go fly a kite."

"I hate kites," he said bluntly. "They're really mean and they live in Wyoming with evil fairies."

"Oh, I guess you're right," I hadn't known that.

"It's okay, Cathy, you can still be my boo."

"I don't swing that way. You'd better wash your mouth out with soap or you'll fail your driver's test."

And then I woke up. But I wasn't alone.