I dream of a warm and tingling sensation in my hand, like someone is kissing my palm. Over and over and over… wait a damn minute. My eyes fly open, coming face to face with the dark, curious orbs of Trigger. I frown at the old border collie. "Trig? What's up, boy?" I ask sleepily, wiping my eyes and sitting up from my sleeping position on the couch.

I ended up on the couch after we finished watching the Notebook, during which Nedley had shed more tears than Jeremy and Chrissy combined. And that is no small feat, trust me. Even the apparently tough Waverly Earp had failed miserably at keeping her own sniffles discreet, which I picked up on during my many sneaky glances in her direction.

Once the credits rolled and everyone had depleted Chrissy's tissue stash, Rachel had gotten up and headed for the door. She was just about to enter the downpour outside, when Nedley stopped her by asking what the heck she was doing.

She had stood in the doorway awkwardly, explaining that she was heading to bed. Bed being the makeshift one in the schooling shed. I immediately offered her my bed and took the couch, hence where I find myself at — I check the time on my phone — "3h30 am?" I give Trigger a playful glare. "You know bud, I could have used that extra 30 minutes before my alarm went off."

Trigger releases a whine and has the audacity to start tugging on the sleeve of my rainbow-coloured pajama shirt. I tug back, annoyed at the absurdity of the dog wanting to play at this time of the morning.

"Bud, it's way too early…" He releases my shirt and whines before moving his head in the direction of the window. Either my mind is not fully awake or the canine is trying to tell me something. Deciding to humour him, I get up and walk over to the window sill. I peer into the darkness and hear nothing but the eerie stillness stemming from the dead of night.

The dead of night comes alive very abruptly with the distinct sound of a quadbike being started.

"What the hell?" I know for a fact that no-one wakes up this early for work except me. So then who…? My question is answered when the barn door flies open and a quadbike flies out, carrying none other than our little drug thief.

"Rachel!" I grit out before making a beeline for the door leading from the kitchen to the back porch. I see Rachel make a sharp right in the direction of the eastern fence, where she had broken in a mere 24 hours ago.

If I was going to catch her, I was going to have to get moving fast. I weigh up my options, eyeing the barn — it's at least a 100 feet away. A noise ahead of me draws my attention, my eyes finding Eos as he whinnies at me in greeting.

Eyeing the stretch of earth between me and the enclosure, I estimate it to be only about 50 feet. That leaves only one choice then. Without further thought, I barrel in the direction of the unsuspecting horse, knowing what I am about to do is very risky. We had only started saddle training with Eos on Sunday, and he had not taken to it well at all. We managed to get the saddle on him only once, before he raised on his hind legs and threw it off. So yes, Eos was in no way ready to be ridden… but he was my best chance.

I open the corral gate and hurriedly move in his direction. He eyes me warily and starts trampling at the ground as if he knew my scheme. I slow my approach, like we did with the saddle, and Eos starts calming slightly. The momentary calm is all I need to unleash the storm of a plan I had.

In one swell motion I grab hold of Eos, sliding my right leg onto his bare back. Naturally, his first instinct is to rear up and try to shake me off, but I grip onto his neck for all I am worth.

"Woah boy, woah. I am not going to hurt ya' and I know you ain't gonna hurt me. Shhh." I murmur gently as I pat his neck, pouring every ounce of trust into my voice and my body language. To my relief, it works and he calms. His body is still restless and a bit rigid, but at least no longer in a way that makes me fear that I might break my back. I move my hands into his mane and smack his rear, releasing a loud "Yah!"

Eos speeds forward and we burst out the corral gate in an uncoordinated mess of rainbow pajamas, mud and annoyed whinnying. Add a horn to Eos's forehead and you might as well call us the Unicorn Charlie Express.

As we move swiftly across the dew-covered grass, I feel Eos's muscles contract and the energy of it moves right through my bones, setting my heart on its own gallop. I bask in the feeling of the cool, early dawn air moving through my sleep messed hair. The freedom of it almost has me exclaiming "Yeehaw!" like some hillbilly into the night. Luckily, I am able to retrain it, saving myself from being embarrassed in front of a herd of Holsteins trying to sleep for the last thirty minutes before milking time is supposed to start.

Eos develops a steady gallop, he and I practically flying as one being as we hurriedly catchup with the troublesome teenager. Soon enough, two figures appear on either side of us as Dexter and Skip join us in the hunt, barking into the cool morning air.

When I notice the quadbike coming closer, I press my knees a bit harder into Eos's flanks, delight rushing through me when he moves even faster.

Rachel is about 60 feet from the fence when the quad starts slowing suddenly. The girl looks down at the vehicle in surprise, turning the ignition without success. A victorious smirk creeps across my face as I remember that one of the quads had been low on fuel. It seems Rachel chose the wrong one for her escape.

"Rachel, stop!" The teen notices me for the first time, surprise washing over her features briefly before she hurriedly exits the quadbike and starts making a break for the fence.

Eos and I gain on her very quickly now. I watch as she removes her bolt cutters from her bag and goes to cut the fence. AGAIN. "Oh hell NO." I growl, tugging on Eos's mane gently, getting the horse to slow down.

As soon as Eos slows down enough for it to be safe, I hurriedly dismount and rush the crouching girl. To my annoyance, I notice that she has already managed to cut the fence twice. As she goes for the third cut, I tackle her to the ground. Dexter and Skip stand on either side of us, barking in excitement.

She releases a surprised yelp as the bolt cutter flies from her hands. I grab her hands and pin her to the ground. "No, you need to let me go! They are gonna kill her! Please let me go!" she shouts. Her words are desperate and my mind is desperate to understand their meaning. She struggles fiercely and to my surprise, I do not see any anger in her eyes. Her eyes are full of worry, shimmering with unshed tears. Her expression takes me aback and I loosen my grip.

"What are you talking about? Why are you trying to escape?" I ask in a gentle, yet firm voice. She stops struggling and it's like the floodgates have been opened, the tears now running freely down her cheeks.

"I need to get the phone. I left it in the tent over there." She points in the direction of the forest adjacent to the fence line. With a frown I look back at her. "What do you mean tent? And why go through all this trouble for a phone?"

She sniffles. "I camped out there, waiting for the best time to break in and get the drugs. It was supposed to be a quick in and out as usual… and now it's been a whole day. They are waiting for my message. If I don't make the drop… they will kill my mom."

"Your mom? I thought you said your mom was dead?"

"I said that to make you go easy on me… but it doesn't matter now. The point is they are going to kill her if I don't get them the drugs."

A fresh bout of tears flows from the young girl's tear ducts as her whole face scrunches up with deep worry.

Whatever this is, her reaction makes it clear that is caught up in some very serious and messed up shit. And if there is anyone who is an expert at helping a trouble kid through said shit, it's Randy Nedley.

"All right, take a breath kid." I instruct her gently. She does as I ask and breaths in, allowing her lungs to catchup with her mind.

"Good. Now I need you to listen to me. We are going to go get that phone and then you and I are heading to the house, where you will tell Nedley everything." I tell her sternly, leaving no room for argument. She looks like she wants to attempt a protest, but I stop her.

"Please, Rachel. All we want to do is to help you. You don't need to face whatever hell it is you are going through on your own. Okay?" I tell her, my voice wrought with a desperate plea to help her.

She stares back at me with eyes still brimming full of uncertainty, so I change tact. "Besides, I thought we had a deal? I tell you my story and you tell me yours?" I ask hopefully. She seems to contemplate something.

"You only told me half of your story." She says finally.

"That's a fair point." I concede with a sheepish smile. 'But the other half of my story is basically just about how my dad got shot and became paralyzed because of drugs.' She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Woah."

"Yeah. I know what kind of bad shit drugs is, you don't need to be an addict to be a victim of its destruction. So what do you say we go get that phone of yours and I will fill you in on my dad on the way back to the house?"

She seems to consider her options for a few seconds before releasing a breath and giving me a slow nod, worry for her mother still consuming her features. Satisfied, I gently release her hands. From behind me, Eos releases a clearly annoyed whinny as if trying to say, "Will you hurry this up already?"

I turn to him, patting his neck fondly. "You did good, bud." I praise him softly as I watch Rachel clip the rest of the fence, to my great chagrin. But it was a necessary evil. So, with a huff I crouch down and exit into the forest after Rachel.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"….and after that Nedley brought me to Joy Farm." I finish off my story for a second time in 10 hours. This time there is no ache in my heart, the pain having bled out and been plastered over after the first time.

The wet grass feels cool against my bare toes and the bottom of my pajama pants is soaked through. But when I look over at the distraught young girl next to me, I know it was all worth it. She needed help and I had and almost instinctive urge to provide that to her, to provide her with a feeling of safety and understanding.

She looks deep in thought, mulling over everything I had told her. I hear the soft thump of Eos's hooves as he follows behind us. Dexter and Skip had disappeared on some other more exciting venture after we started heading back home.

"Thanks for telling me… Nicole you really were put through hell." She looks up at me with awe shining in her now much calmer features. "How are you so kind? After all that?"

I chuckle at her bafflement. "Well, I figured it was either that or be a grouch who ended up drowning in my own misery. Besides, sometimes you have to face some giants to know how much of a giant you are on the inside. You are stronger than you know."

"Chrissy was right, you really are a walking bumper sticker." She says with a smile.

I am stopped from my witty comeback when my ears pick up the sound of another quadbike. I spot Jeremy and Waverly thundering in our direction. Jeremy only slows the vehicle when they are practically on top of us.

"Nicole, Rachel! Where have you been? We have been looking for you everywhere." He says, clear worry in his voice. I notice Waverly running her eyes over my dirty state in worry and I fight the urge to run my hands through my messy, windblown hair self-consciously.

"It's a long story. One that Rachel is going to explain once we get to Nedley. Is he in his office?" I ask.

"He was in the kitchen, making himself his first cup of Joe… what is going on?" Jeremy asks tentatively with a worried frown.

"I'll tell you guys everything. Get everyone into the living room." Rachel suggests as she heads for the house. Waverly and Jeremy look at me with questioning eyes, I just shrug and indicate for them to follow.

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Rachel walks past me for the fifth time, her nervous pacing having started as soon as we all sat down in the living room full of anticipation to finally hear her story. Nedley clears his throat. "Kid, I am really going to be sick if you don't' stop that." He gruffs out. Rachel does slow her pacing, but keeps wringing her hands in worry.

Unable to take her state of unease any longer I get up and place my hand gently on her shoulder. "You are a giant, remember?" I say softly. She looks up at me, biting her lip and giving me a singular nod. Satisfied that the rug beneath her feet would no longer be at risk of being set alight by the friction of her pacing, I take my seat. I catch Waverly's curious eyes on me and just smile at her with a small shrug.

My eyes only leave Waverly's when Rachel releases a breath and finally starts talking. "Two months ago, I was just a normal teen going to Purgatory High and my mom was the best pharmacist in town. One day my mom doesn't come home for work. I figured that perhaps she had to work late doing admin or stocktaking, as she sometimes does. But then she wasn't home the next morning either. So I went to the pharmacy and found only Mrs. Keller, her assistant, manning the counter. I went to ask her if she knew where mom was, but she beat me to it. That's when it struck me that something was very wrong. I headed back to our apartment to try and find any clue as to where she might have gone, when I spotted the single envelope along with a phone on her dresser. It was a letter addressed to me, explaining that mom had been kidnapped."

There is a collective gasp in the room as we process this horrible information. I grit my teeth. Who the fuck does that?! Rachel's hand tightens and untightens as she gives us a moment to take it in. Then She steels herself once more to continue the clearly terrible tale. "So… so the rest of the letter goes on to explain that if I wanted to get proof of life, I was going to have to get them these chemicals listed in the letter. I had to get them a certain amount every couple of weeks and drop it at a random rendezvous point which they would send to me via the phone."

"Someone is forcing you to steal drugs? What kind of sickos would do that?" Chrissy says in a teary voice. Rachel gives her a sad nod in confirmation.

"Why are you stealing from farms if your mother had a whole pharmacy?" Jeremy asks.

"I considered it and I think they though it would be easy since I was the daughter of a pharmacist, but the pharmacy is well secured. Mom made sure of it after our first break in. It has CCTV cameras, a state-of-the-art alarm system and a 24-hour security guard. I knew that wasn't an option unless I was in a Mission Impossible movie. So when I noticed the tiny delivery truck pickup its regular batch of veterinary drugs for the farms, I figured that was my best shot."

"What happens if you don't make a delivery?" Nedley asks the question we all dread and the lines tightening on Rachel's face confirm that our fears are very valid. "They give me the benefit of the doubt for 24 hours. After that they will…" The girl is unable to form the words we could all fill in for ourselves.

Waverly gets up and wraps her arms around the trembling girl. I grit my teeth, trying to stem the anger at the thought of these sick bastards from consuming me. I had to keep a clear head if we were going to figure out how to help Rachel out of this mess.

Randy gets up and runs his hands through his beard as he starts pacing, the rug once again in danger of being set alight. He pauses, looking at a now much more calmed Rachel. "When was the last drop off time?"

Rachel wipes her eyes and takes out the phone we had fetched from her tent. She scrolls through what appears to be messages before finally finding the most recent one. "I was supposed to make the delivery yesterday at 6am."

I check the time on my phone, it is now 04h35. My eyes also catch a new notification from MatchMe.

Angelgirl08: Hey! I have a question… how do you know if you like someone? Like romantically, I mean.

The last 24 hours have been such an emotional whirlwind that it feels like an eternity has passed since I talked to Angelgirl. And as much as I yearned to reply to that very interesting question, I had Rachel to focus on right now. I set myself a mental reminder to reply to her as soon as I get the chance.

"There is an hour and a half left for the delivery to be made." I say, getting up from the couch and heading out the living room. "Where are you going?" Rachel asks tentatively. I turn around again to finding everyone's eyes on me.

"I am going to get cleaned up so I can get Rachel to that drop off point in time." I say with determination before I turn and head in the direction of the bathroom for the quickest shower of my life, my jaw clenching tighter with every step I take. It would seem that my Spidey senses had been right when I found that cut fence the first time. Once again Purgatory's ugly drug underbelly is rearing its ugly head in my life. I was not going to give it the satisfaction of leaving tragedy in its wake this time.