AN: Loving it? I think that so far, this is my favorite chapter, the story has come a long way, I really did not expect for it to take this turn but it's totally taken over now! Wow, I've got 46 comments so far greatest achievement ever lol thank you to everybody who commented on chapter 13 (there was seven of you!) I jumped up and down every time I got an email notification of a review lol anyway, onto the chapter:

It was a cold night and Jordan was freezing, being tossed into the back of a pickup did not help.

Chloroform, Jordan guessed as she stirred. Her mind muddled, she could scarcely remember what had happened at her father's house, but suddenly in the form of shapes and light, it all came flooding back to her.

She had been peacefully watching TV when she heard glass smashing in her room, she had assumed it was her father's cat, which he had bought to keep him company but was more of a nuisance than anything. She hobbled to her room, thinking to herself that it was only a short week and a half more until the doctors remove her casts. She could live with that, right? She would have to wait longer for her now half inch long hair to grow to its full length, but it would not be so bad. Stupid cat.

Before she knew it, she was in a fight for her life. She threw everything at the stranger in her room she could get her hands on, the basket of freshly cleaned clothes, bottles of perfume, and bottles of lotion from her dresser, but she knew that the efforts were futile; she could never get away on her crutches no matter how fast she went. He ripped the crutches out of her grasp one at a time and threw them aside, breaking a hole in the wall. He came to her slowly, his face was not masked and Jordan remembered his dark eyes glimmering with anticipation, his crooked smile sent shivers down her spine. He sprayed something from a small bottle in her face and she fell unconscious.

She had glimpses of different places and situations since then but they always followed with the spray bottle and she could remember no more.

Chloroform, she repeated in her mind. The truck bumped along what she figured was rough pavement. She groaned as she came to.

She tried to sit up but was suddenly aware of the presence with her. He shoved her head down, her forehead slammed into the truck bed, which, she now realized, was covered with mud, hay and manure. His fingers dug into her scars and he bent his ear close to hers. His harsh voice was hardly audible over the rumble of the truck as he said, "Keep down, bitch and stay quiet if you know what's good for you."

Her screams muffled into a gagging cloth.

He gave her head one last push before letting her go, she nodded quickly, tears developing in her eyes. She held them back, determined to be strong in the presence of her captor. Her eyes darted around for anything familiar, however, the night was dark with no streetlamps and she could scarcely see past the rim of the truck. She saw dark trees flash by in numbers. The freeway? she guessed silently.

She wondered if they were still in Boston, in Massachusetts for that matter, which direction they were traveling. Was his accomplice driving?

"That's far enough," he said, rapping on the top of the truck. She panicked wondering if these were her last moments, the only ones she had left in her life, hands and feet tied in the bed of a truck with a kidnapper. He sprayed Jordan with more chloroform from the bottle.

To Jordan, it seemed like moments later when she awoke in the back of a different truck. She groaned; her head was pounding now. Has he beaten me? She wondered. No, it's just my head.

This time, when she awoke, she found her hands tied behind her back.

She looked around for her captor. He sat propped uncomfortably on the side of the truck. His eyes seemed closed, his head drooped, Jordan vaguely wondered if he were dead or asleep. When she stirred, he awoke, his cold eyes gleaming. His smile reminded her of the murderer in The Shining. She shivered uncontrollably. The night was cold and she had bare arms. She wanted to make conversation with him, try to convince him to let her go, but she had a feeling there was nothing she could say to change his mind.

As if knowing that she wanted to speak with him, he freed her lips, warning her that if she called out, she would be gutted, much in the same way he had murdered his previous victims. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered with an unused voice.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he said. Jordan could not tell by his tone whether he was trying to be nice, or if this entire ordeal were a game to him.

Calmly and without emotion she asked, "Why are you doing this? I don't even know you."

He chuckled, "No, I suppose you don't." He extended his hand as if she were to take it and make friends with him. He laughed and pulled it away saying, "I guess you're a little tied up at the moment." Jordan supposed he genuinely thought he was funny. "My name is Jarvis Angler," he grinned, flashing his yellowed teeth. Jordan looked at him. He was not ugly, in fact, at one time he may have been handsome. As Jordan saw him, middle aged, he seemed more dirty than unattractive; she thought he would clean up good.

The look on her face seemed not to have triggered any recognition of him. He frowned. "I mean, I'm no celebrity, I haven't been on the news or anything, but I thought your pal Woody would at least have clued you in, you know, mentioned me; this is quite disappointing."

Comprehension dawned on her. Her eyes widened and he thought that she had remembered him. He smiled and she frowned, "You bastard! You're using me to get to him?"

He sighed, "Not quite my pretty. I'm using you to get what I want. You see, as long as I have you as my hostage, he-can't-touch-me," with every one of his last four words, he poked her as if he was playing with a child.

"You're demented."

He dipped his grin in poison, his voice changed to the harsh tones he had used with her at first, "Be nice, my pet, or you won't be getting any sugar."