Hi again!!

So I'm not too sure about this chapter. I really like it, and I hope you guys will too. It's kinda jumpy, but that way it covers more. So please please tell me what you think.

And special thanks to:

(Sorry, don't know any of your names.)

myasiansuperpowers - I loved your review!! It was great, and went into detail about what you like and everything. I really really appreciate it!! And, thanks for also giving me my FIRST review!!

Candice - Haha, thanks for the reiview!! I'm trying so hard not to tell people what's going to happen, so I can't answer any questions yet, you just have to wait!! And, I'll try to make the chapters longer, but I'm not sure. Again, you'll just have to wait. =)

br00kel0oveswildfire - I'm glad you love it!! Thanks!!

hiddensunshine - I'm glad you also love it, haha!! Thanks for your review!!

And, I also realized I forgot to add a Disclaimer. Don't know if this is required or whatnot, but I figured I would.

So......DISCLAIMER: I wish, but no, Secret Life is not mine. If it was, Ricky and Amy would so be together by now.

Enjoy!!

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"You little-"

He grabs her arm, sending her phone clattering onto the hard floor.

Panic rises in him when he hears a voice on the other line.

"Amy? Amy!"

The voice is familiar, but he has absolutely no patience to try and figure out who it is.

So, he crushes his foot into it, and with that, the cell phone is a few dilapidated pieces of metal.

Dragging her back to the chair by her arm, he scowls. He shoves her back onto that chair, and tries to ignore her sobs. He's got no sympathy for girls like her.

He snatches the ropes back up, and ties them around her wrists and ankles.

Tighter this time. Tighter and more painful.

"What the hell is your problem?" He demands, spit flying from his lips.

She's crying to hard to answer, and that frustrates him.

"ANSWER ME!" Still, she can't speak. Again, "ANSWER ME!"

When he doesn't get an answer, he runs a hand through his hair, and turns. His stress level is way up, and he can't stand it. His plan could be ruined. The police could show up any minute, any second.

He swiftly turns back around. "Who'd you call?"

But, once again, her words aren't audible.

"You better answer me, girl, I swear to god. WHO DID YOU CALL?"

She's even more scared now, so she tries to speak. "N-no one."

"Don't tell me that! I heard, okay? I heard them on the phone! WHO WAS IT?"

She can't tell him the truth. That could be the worst possible thing to do.

So, she makes up a lie.

"I-it was my dad. H-his answering machine. He - he didn't answer."

His face is tight, and she can't tell whether he believes her or not.

But, finally, he says, "If you're lying, I swear, you're gonna regret it."

Then his cell phone rings again. This time it's in his pocket, so he doesn't have to leave to get it again.

He looks at the outer screen, and sees 'Ricky', which can only mean one thing.

"You called him?!"

But, she doesn't know what he's talking about. "W-what?"

He shoves the phone in her face. "Ricky. You called Ricky."

He knows that she did, because Ricky has never called him. Ever. And, he never would, unless there was a good reason.

The phone stops, but Bob doesn't.

"I told you you'd regret it. You little bitch."

And with that, his fist plunges across her face, and she can taste blood within seconds.

Then, harder, she takes another blow, sending blood out of her mouth, and consciousness out of her.

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He's been sitting in the car for about ten minutes. Just driving.

Where?

Who knows.

He doesn't even know.

He's already tried calling Amy again. Voicemail. He tried Bob. Voicemail. Not good.

He's going in any direction, hoping it'll magically lead him to Amy and his father.

His horrible father.

His horrible, murderous father.

And all this driving isn't doing him any good, so he finally decides to go to the police.

But, he knows that the police can't compete against Bob.

Bob's too powerful. Too angry, and spiteful. He knows what he wants, and the police can't stop him from trying to get it.

The police station is small. So small that it doesn't look like a police station. It looks too welcoming and friendly. Too weak to actually save people that need to be saved.

As soon as his car is parked, his keys out of the ignition, and his stomach in his throat, he's ready to go inside. Only, really, he could never be ready for this.

For a second though, he closes his eyes and leans his head on the head rest. How could this happen to him? He's only sixteen. Things like this don't happen to sixteen year olds. But........

They happen to him. They've already happened to him, and he needs to stop it. And, instead of focusing on himself, he needs to focus on other people.

The people that really need it right now.

He takes a deep breath, and before getting out of the car, thinks. He thinks about Bob, and about how sick he was. How, first he had hurt Ricky and now Amy. Who knows who else? He could've done the same thing to other kids. He could've taken them to that same room, and done the same -

That same Room.

That Room.

The Room.

And, with one quick motion, the car is started back up, and backing out of the parking lot.

Because he thinks he knows where Amy is.

He remembers that place. God, does he remember it. He remembers everything about it.

The smell, the horrible, musty smell.

The vibe. The angry, hurtful vibe.

The feeling. The feeling like your whole world is ending, and you don't even care. After the experience, that's all you want.

And, with all his heart, Ricky hopes Amy isn't feeling that.

He remembers where it is.

The dusty road leading to the old house.

The sign saying that there's a McDonalds off the exit. Which had been true. About 40 years ago.

He remembers counting the trees as he was driven down there. The guardrail, scattered with graffiti.

And, that house. That small, uninviting house with broken everything.

Broken shutters, broken door, broken plants, broken people.

There's no way he could ever forget that place. And, he hopes to God that Bob isn't smart enough to find a new place.

So, he takes that familiar path down the road. The path he's been down so many times, but usually not willingly, like now.

His head is being filled with image after image. Images of his father. Of Amy. Of his father hurting Amy.

This is his fault. It's his fault that Amy's pregnant. That Bob is after her.

If it weren't for him, Amy wouldn't be in this situation. She'd be happy with Ben, no Ricky, no baby, Bob.

But, what he doesn't know is that he's actually done some good. Because, Amy loves the baby. And, she wouldn't admit it, but a part of her had feelings for Ricky, too.

But, Ricky didn't know this. He thought he'd just ruined her life.

He presses a little harder on the gas, and he's getting closer.

The dusty road never seemed so relieving to him. Or scary.

Soon, his car is right in front of the house. It's even more dark and eerie than he remembers.

Faintly, he hears what he assumes to be a scream. It's too hard to tell, but he's pretty sure, so he scrambles to take his key out of the ignition. Panic is rising inside him, which causing him to struggle opening the door, and accidentally slamming the door on his finger.

But he ignores the pain, and darts to the door. He grabs the handle, pushes on it, the pulls. But, it doesn't budge.

It's locked.

"Dammit," he says under his breath, because he should've realized that Bob would be smart enough to lock the door. Anyone with common sense would've.

So, remembering there's a backdoor, he sprints around back. The back door is right where he thought, but what once used to be deck under it is now gone. The only sign it had ever actually been there is a pile of jagged wood, scattered around.

There's a possibility that this door's locked too, but there's no time to think of a better plan. He just needs to get inside.

So, he carefully steps on top of the wood, testing its stability. Once he knows it can hold him, he climbs on all the way. But as he takes a step a scrap digs into his ankle and he trips, falling right on top of a few pointy pieces.

His hands are scratched, and his jeans are slightly ripped, and he's bleeding, but he ignores it, and gets back up.

He reaches the door, and grabs the handle. Pushing it frantically, he can tell it won't open. He tries harder, maybe it's jammed.

But, sure enough, it's locked.

He looks around anxiously, looking for a solution. He needs to. There's no time, because he's sure he heard a bump from the basement. From that room.

He's trying to find some other way to get in. Back and forth around the yard. Nothing.

But the window.

The window only a few feet from his head.

That's it.

He quickly, carefully starts walking towards it, trying to balance on the pile.

He's getting closer, closer.....closer.

He reaches for the sill when the high stack he's standing on begins to tip. He grabs onto it the window sill and steadies himself.

The windows stuck. Locked or just jammed, he doesn't know. All he knows is that it won't open.

But he has no more patience. So, bracing himself, he punches the window.

His fist is met with a shatter, then pain. But he doesn't pay any attention to it as knocks down more glass, then hoists himself up.

He rips his jeans as he puts his leg through. He leaves blood on the sharp piece he cut himself on, and it makes him feel sick inside. He feels the blood running down his leg, as he quietly makes his way through the house. It's exactly as he remembered.

Cobwebs in all the corners. Dust covering everything. The pictures on the wall that he could never figure out.

And the basement door. It's still white, with bits of scratches and scuffs. It's still terrifying.

But, his stomach jumping, he slowly, slowly turns the knob.

Walks down the stairs.

And, once he enters the room, he sees something he'll never forget.

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I know, I left a big cliffhanger, but I just love them. I really, really appreciate everyone's reviews, they really mean so much. So, keep reading and reviewing and I'll have the next chapter up really soon, because I have everything planned out in my head already.