I apologize for the delay! Midterms took over my life. BUT, it's the longest one yet. So I'm hoping that makes up for it. Forgive me?

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I have not suddenly gained possession of Degrassi. This story, is however mine.

Welcome to the first major M chapter. It isn't pretty. So stop reading if you wish. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Side note: I have no idea what Los Angeles, celebrity maps, or LAX airport are like, so if my story doesn't match up with reality, please ignore.

True fact: Reviewers make the world a better place. =)

Read on My friends!

•••••

I threw the book across the room in anger. I had read the same sentence five times, and had no hope of concentrating. Clare still hadn't called, nor had she picked up the past fifteen times I had contacted her. It had been two days now, and I was trying to understand what she must have been going through, but it was killing me not knowing how she was feeling. I wanted her to know that I was here for her, and that she could talk to me, but I sensed she didn't feel like talking.

I'd tried going for a walk yesterday, to distract myself, but I ended up at the Dot, where I'd sat in the same booth where I first asked her out. I'd gone home and crashed early, only to wake up at some ghastly hour this morning. I didn't even bother to revive Adam; he was anything but a morning person. Instead, I'd gone for a jog, which had turned into a three-mile sprint away from reminders. For a while, I didn't think about Clare, but the second I got back to the dorms, my mind was on her once more. I suppose it was hard not to focus on your girlfriend's millionaire father being sued and arrested when you had absolutely nothing to do for a month.

The sound of my phone drew me out of my thoughts of Clare. I lunged for the phone, knocking over my water bottle in the process. "Fuck" I growled, as water soaked my shirt. My heart sank when I saw that it was Adam who was calling.

"Hello?"

"Eli, dude, have—"

"Adam, hey! Please tell me you're done with that science thing, I'm dying of boredom here."

"What? Oh, yeah that finished ages ago. But, Eli, have you—"

"You're done? Sweet! Come entertain me. We can watch a marathon of the Saw movies."

"Eli—"

"Come on, Adam! I promise I'll bring popcorn!"

"Eli!" he yelled.

"Sorry, sorry. What is it?"

"Have you checked the news lately?"

"No, why? Was Randall released?"

"It's Clare. She... she's gone missing."

My mind went blank, my heart dropped like a stone, and somewhere far, far away I could hear the sound of a phone thudding to the ground.

•••••

I groaned, not wanting to open my eyes. Something told me it was way to early to be waking up, but a throbbing behind my right ear prevented me from further sleep. I rolled over to my back, yelping when my entire body protested. My lids fluttered open and I was momentarily blinded by the sun. I moved my head to the right so the rays of light wouldn't reach my eyes. I looked around, alarmed to see that I had no idea where I was.

Four pitch-black walls surrounded me, with a small window at the top of the one facing me, and a steel door to my right. A tall, wooden stool sat in the corner next to a cardboard box. Beneath me lay an itchy, worn, grey mat. My head was still pounding and it hurt to think, I couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened.

I was about to accept my predicament and attempt to sleep once more when I saw my body out of the corner of my eye. My expression turned horror struck as I stared down at myself. I'd somehow ended up in my undergarments only, giving me a good view of my entire body.

Every single inch of my skin was coated in yellow and purple splotches, only to be disrupted by deep bloody gashes that were only just beginning to heel. My foot… well, my foot shouldn't bend that way. I spotted a gash near my lower thigh so deep that I could see the distinct white of bone. I promptly turned to the side and threw up. When I finally finished vomiting, I burst into tears. I was tired, cold, dizzy, and clueless.

I felt like I was five years old again, and it was the day my father had fought with my mother again. It was the same day I had decided to be a little brat, and had talked back to my father. It was also the day he'd finally lost his temper and struck me full on the cheek. It was the first time I'd felt vulnerable and lost. I'd realized, then, that the world was not as perfect as my parents pretended it was. I didn't want to be five, and I didn't want to be scared or unsure. I wanted to know what was going on, I wanted the pain to go away.

I needed someone. I needed help. I needed to wake up. I needed it to stop. I needed to know what was happening.

"Please." I whispered, as another sob shook my body. "Please!" I shrieked, hysterical.

The door banged open, and a masked man entered the room with his gun pointed straight at me.

•••••

"Eli! You haven't thought this through! I mean, what are you planning on doing once you get there?" Adam yelled, trying to knock some sense into me.

"I don't know, Adam, but I have to try!"

After my initial shock, I'd ran straight to the bedroom and dragged my duffel bag out of the back of the closet. Adam had come home in the middle of my mad dash. He'd walked into my room to find me running around, grabbing whatever necessities I could find while I argued about a last minute ticket over the phone.

He'd tried to reason with me, explaining that I didn't even know where Clare lived. I didn't want to hear it. Clare. My Clare was gone. I couldn't just sit here, depressed and unaware. I was going to find her, no matter what. Adam just didn't understand. I needed her back in my arms where she belonged. However, I did bargain with Adam, and allowed him to drive me to the airport.

"Take it, Eli."

"No! I can't. Keep it!" I growled, frustrated and impatient.

"Eli, I won't take no for an answer. We both know I don't need it, and you will. Just take the damn money!"

I sighed, and grabbed the wad of cash, shoving it into my carry on. "Uh, thanks. Really, I owe you."

He smiled at me, "Keep me posted, okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

I grabbed my duffle out of the backseat and headed into the airport. I groaned when I saw the endless line of people waiting to be checked in. When I saw a family of six heading for the same line I was, I made a beeline for it, getting there seconds before them. The already stressed father glowered in my direction and I smirked at my victory. The success was short lived, however, as one of his kids hit another, causing her to burst into tears. I sighed as high-pitched cries supplied the background music of my ten-minute wait.

I finally arrived at the desk, where a perky blonde attendant smiled at me.

"Hello Sir!" She exclaimed, "Where will you be flying today?"

"Los Angeles." I mumbled, already annoyed at how vivacious she was acting. I handed over my passport, watching as she scanned it.

"Oh! Going to play with the big dogs are we? Get some autographs for me, will ya?"

"Yeah, something I like that." I replied, my thoughts trailing back to Clare and her father.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a marvelous time."

I almost laughed.

•••••

Its funny how right when you need it the most, sleep never seems to come. I lay on the mat, staring at the cracks in the black wall, tears dripping down my face. I didn't understand. How had this happened? Why me?

I thought my heart had stopped when I saw the gun aimed at me. I'd stared in horror as he'd turned towards the door and yelled something in another language. I'd only ever studied French, and it definitely wasn't that. Suddenly three others came rushing in, each with a gun in hand. Sheer terror clouded my mind and a shriek escaped my lips.

"P-P-Please." I begged, speaking louder than I intended, "Please d-don't hurt me."

The tallest man's eye's narrowed and he barked an order to another who quickly clamped his hand over my mouth, silencing my pleas.

Harsh words poured from the tall man's mouth and he aimed a kick and my broken foot. My muffled scream filled the room and my vision blurred with pain. He repeated his words again, louder than before. I shook my head, desperately trying to convey that I did not understand."

He snapped another command at the man behind me who quickly removed his hand. I quivered as he crouched down in front of me, his face inches from mine.

"Where is the money?" He demanded with a heavy accent.

Realization hit me like a train.

My dad. This was all my dad. I was-I was ransom? Bribery? I was in hell, because of my father's greed. After all these years of putting up with everything, this is how I'm repaid. I couldn't believe that bastard. He was nothing, absolutely nothing to me.

"Well?" He asked, impatiently.

"I-I don't know." I whispered, "Please, I really don't know."

He hit me, hard, and the taste of blood filled my mouth.

"Where is it?" He screamed.

I shook my head frantically. "I don't know! I don't! You have to believe me!"

He spat at me and marched out of the room.

•••••

I thought that I was going to have trouble finding the Randall residence, but the second I exited the airport I spotted at least ten different people trying to sell maps to the celebrity houses. I headed towards the closest one. Behind a stand stood a chubby middle-aged man a reseeding hairline.

"Excellent sale today, sir. Only fifteen dollars." He grinned at me, a golden filling sparkling in the sunlight.

I eyed his Hawaiian print shirt and greasy grey hair. "Are these things genuine?" I asked, doubting I'd believe him anyway.

"One hundred percent." He insisted, glancing down at my wallet.

I sighed and pulled out a twenty. Better this than nothing at all. He quickly snatched the twenty out of my hands and was much more reluctant to hand over my five dollar change.

I strolled over to a nearby bench and unfolded the map, carefully scanning for the star with Randall Edwards scrawled over it. I spotted it in between Eddie Murphy's mansion and Madonna's mansion. Uh, wow? Not too shabby. I wonder if Clare ever babysat for their kids. Clare—

I stood up abruptly, snapping the map shut in the process. I marched over to the line of cabs that were waiting for new arrivals. I hopped in the first one and gave him the address.

"Tourists." He scoffed.

I'd expected big, heck, I'd expected huge, but this was fucking gigantic.

A ten-foot tall iron gate stood in front of me, but the intimidation didn't stop there. Approximately five hundred feet beyond the gate stood their mansion. Four pure white pillars surrounded the front door. The entire house was made of white marble and I could just make out a gold design glistening in the sun.

In the middle of their circular driveway was a flawless garden. The unrealistically green grass surrounded thousands of red and white tulips, and in the middle of it all was a fountain with a statue of a little girl. I squinted a bit and realized that the figure was a younger Clare. She wore a simple dress and a dazzling smile. The artist had portrayed her perfectly, I even though I could detect a glint of mischief in her eyes.

I gazed up at the little girl, praying that she was okay.

I sighed and slowly made my way over to their doorbell. I'd never seen such a high tech call button before, but I figured that the big white button was my best bet.

"Tourists are not permitted on the premises. You may take pictures from outside the gate, please do not loiter. Have a nice day." A tired voice droned through the speaker.

I quickly pressed the button again. "I'm not a tourist, sir." I said, hesitating for a second, "I'm, uh, here to speak with Randall Edwards. Its concerning his daughter."

"The paparazzi have to schedule an appointment prior to their interview. Please come back later at an pre-arranged time." He recited.

Once again, pushed the button. "Sir, I'm not here for that. I'm, uh," I cleared my throat, "I'm Clare's boyfriend."

"Please hold."

•••••

Reviewing. It's the right thing to do.

I would actually really appreciate some feedback on the violence. I've never written anything like that before. Too much? Too little? Too unrealistic? PLEASE let me know!

Click the button... right there... that one... yeah... right below... please?