Emily POV

I didn't know how much time had passed since I had been chained to the barn wall. I had almost no muscle mass, I could barely stand. I was in so much pain that I didn't know where it was all coming from. I hadn't eaten in who knows how long. I was pretty sure I hadn't had any water in even longer than that. I was sure I was dying. Two days after the social worker dropped me off here, they had started beating me. I was never enrolled in a school, so no one missed me. They took my phone, and all my extra clothes. They let me keep my jacket, and the clothes I was wearing. It was months later, and I was so weak I could barely remember what time it was. I wanted to laugh at the irony, but my ribs were already broken.

I rolled over, and tried not to cry out in pain. My wrist was in a shackle. I had tried to get free so many times my arm was broken. My thumb was also dislocated. I cried myself to sleep as I tried not to think about Katie and Sam.

I couldn't open my eyes anymore. I didn't need food; I just needed to never wake up again. I needed to die so the pain would stop.

I thought back on what my captors had done to me.

The first week I arrived they locked me in the barn. I wasn't allowed food, just water.

The second week the man came in every night and would rape me. When he tried to force me to give him oral sex, I bit him. That was when he started torturing me. This was beyond beating me. He would use tasers to electrocute me. Somehow he figured out a way to increase the voltage and length of each shock.

Then he started using whips. The week after that he used knives. It was then that he forced me to drink acid to wreck my vocal cords. The whole time he made sure that he would never leave a scar. The week after that he went back to raping me. I lost count of the weeks, the days, the hours, and the weapons he used to torture me. It was around then that I lost my will to live.

The last thing I remembered him doing was sticking the taser inside of me, and turning the power up the furthest it would go. No one heard my screams.

Now I was laying here, waiting to die.

Pain. Everywhere. Hurts to breath. Can I breathe? Am I alive? Am I dead?

Frank Reagan POV

We had gotten a call of suspected child abuse. Upon investigation it turned out that it was a child smuggling ring. Slowly, bit by bit, piece by piece, the case got kicked up the ranks of the bureau. It had landed in the lap of One Police Plaza, and in return, mine. I had assembled a special task force team of the greatest detectives and inspectors on the job. We were just waiting for the green light to go in and arrest the suspects. We had about forty people here, some with drug dogs, others with swat shields; all with guns. We were prepared for the worst.

My phone rang with my father on the line, the commissioner. He gave me the go ahead to proceed. I gave the signal, and we stormed the house.

Fifteen minutes later all was secure when I heard over the radio, "There's a barn about a mile down the road. I think you need to come take a look Reagan." We already had found all the children, what else could be there?

I walked down the road, and went into the barn. The stench was horrible; urine everywhere. I walked towards the other officers and stopped, "What is it?" They pointed to a small bundle in the corner, a dead girl. I sighed; we had been too late. "Did you check for a pulse?"

"Sir, that body's too small to be alive."

I walked towards the body, it looked like a girl, and knelt next to her. The face seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place where. I put my fingers to the girls neck and waited. I felt a slight pulse, and checked for breathing, "Someone call a bus! She's still alive!" With that the officers ran outside to get a car.

An officer that knew first aid came and nudged me aside. I let him take care of the girl, and walked outside. How had we missed this? There was no record of this girl anywhere. Who was she?

Emily POV

I was vaguely aware of my surroundings. I could hear people yelling. I couldn't understand what they were staying, but I could hear them. I opened my eyes as much as I could; they were so swollen. Someone's face came into my view, and I shied away. I could clearly remember my foster father's voice, "You ever say a damn thing again and I'll kill you. Then I'll find your siblings you talk about so much and kill them too." I had to stay silent. I couldn't talk, or he'd kill them. Just remember that, don't talk and I could still protect my siblings, at least in some way. Don't talk.