Chapter 1 - Call 9-1-1! “Alright. Listen up.” John Stanley says, fiercely grabbing my arm, leaving a blood-glistening scratch. “I’ll give you one last chance to prove that I shouldn’t get rid of you tonight, but if you do one thing…” He pauses for intensity. It’s working. “One thing. you’re dead.” I nod and he slaps me in the face, as a way of dismissing me. It hurts, no, stings, but by now, I’m used to it. I start to walk away but he grabs my arm again and spins me around, pulling me towards him. My face is 2 inches from his and I can feel his beer-stained breath against my skin and I try not to gag, or worse, throw up. “Oh, and one more thing.” He sneers. “Don’t think I won't be watching you. I’ve done this before. I may be old but I am not pitiful. I’ve killed many people before and I’m not afraid of doing it again, ya hear me?” " Yes, sir ” I gulp. He lets go of my arm and I run into the big black building where the supposedly ‘famous’ rapper, NF, will be performing. I’ve never heard of him before, which makes me wonder why John picked this location. If I think about it, it’s the perfect place for me to run away from him, it’s packed with people. I look up at the tall white ceiling of the building and spin in a tight pivot. I’ve never been in a building like this before, never in my whole life. I've only been in John's basement and the grocery store… and I guess the liquor store can also count. I run to the bathroom to see how badly my arm is bleeding, I can feel it drooling, no, oozing down my arm, but I also want to see how I appear to others. I arrive at the bathroom and look in the mirror, and not just a side glance, I really look. I see a girl, a young girl. Her chocolate brown hair makes her bangs, dyed blonde, stand out. She has a small, round face and blue eyes, like the sky on a beautiful summer day. Her matte lips were coated with cherry red lipstick making them shine like the sun. Her expressions sometimes made her look hurt, pained, and beaten, but her smile hides it all. I gasp in the mirror and look down as my phone vibrates in my back pocket. It was my Best friend, Alya! I can’t remember the last time I saw her. I look around to see if “My captor” John is around, and ignoring the cut on my arm, I answer the call. " Hey, Alya! How have you been?” I sound so tired, but I don’t care. " Hi, Rachel! I’ve been so good! But, you…not so much, I’m guessing. You sound like John has you heavy” She’s right, as always. Alya’s been known to know everything. " Is He still on to you?” She asks, worrying filling her words. " On to me? Are you joking? Alya-” She cuts me off. " Rachel, how old are you?" She asks, and for the first time in a while, I could hear more than fret in her voice, I could hear anger, disappointment, and annoyance. I stop walking around, realize I'm walking around, and then try to grasp her question.

" How old am I? We've been friends for, how many years now, and you ask me 'How old am I?" I ask, wondering if she slept 'ok' the night before. "yes." Was her simple answer. Simply sarcastic. I roll my eyes. "16," I say, but before she can say anything else, I add. "And three quarters." "Exactly. Yet, you're still stuck in john's rusty old basement, getting him his alcohol with a fake ID because you don't have the strength or the courage-" "Woah, Woah, Woah." A booming voice cuts Alya and the circulation in my ears off. I freeze and slowly look up, afraid to see John's sickening face glowering down at me, his hand ready to strike me. But, when I look up, it isn't John's face, but another just as frightening. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks, his voice ringing through the long hallway which I realize now, only has one doorway. The one I've almost walked straight through. I put the phone down and hang up on Alya, forgetting I was on the phone with her. I look around and see nothing but a very long, white hallway. "Where am I?" I ask him, trying not to make eye contact, fearing I'd lose the lunch I never actually had. "Don't play dumb." He snarls. "You're one of those sneaky NF fans, huh? Trying to get autographs on his off time?" "Who?" I ask, then suddenly remembering why this building was so packed. "Oh, the concert guy? I'm not a fan, I don't really know him." With one glance, I can see he doesn't believe me. "Sure." He takes his gigantic masculine hand and shoves me backward. Hard. My back slams to the floor and my head cracks before it. The wind is knocked out of me and I feel my body slide across the floor and hit the wall behind me. My eyesight fades in and out and my consciousness mirrors. My arms, my legs, everything starts to tingle and it feels like I'm being stabbed by multiple pins and needles. I groan but it sounds only like a meer gasp. I can see the outline of the man's muscular body come over to me and whisper; "Don't ever come back here-" He starts but he's cut off by another man, although I can barely hear what he's saying, I catch the last part before my sight fades, my memory of where I am fades, My pain disappears, and darkness overtakes me. "Call 9-1-1."

Chapter 2 - The doctors and Him Slowly, I awake to faint beeping. It sounded like a timer for an oven, or maybe a ring for a phone call. I want to open my eyes but my head starts to pound. Everything hurts. It feels like I died, but somehow, I'm still alive. "Your bodyguard did a good number on this one. She hasn't woken up for days." Days? How many? Where am I? Most of all, what happened? My eyelids shoot up and I groan to show them I'm waking up. I look over to see someone in a long white cloak standing with a pen and clipboard beside a shorter man, who's completely covered in black except for the holes in his jeans and his hands and face. He doesn't look familiar but his voice does. "Yeah," The shorter one says. "He's new. We just hired him last week. He's a pretty big guy, I don't think he meant to-." He stops short. "Wait- She's waking up!" I see them rush over and quickly close my eyes, ready for the pain about to come. I adjust my arms slowly and try to sit up. I was right. Excruciating pain waves over me as I moan, putting my arms back in place. "Oh, yes. Take it easy. You got battered pretty hard." The one with the clipboard states. I open my eyes again and get a full face examination of both. The short one isn't as short as I first thought. Average height. Muscles protrude through his oversized sweater and his undone boots carry over a worried face. The other one looks like a doc-. A doctor! Am I in the hospital? "Hon, can you hear me? Do you know where you are? Can you tell me your name?" The doctor asks. "uugh." I groan. "My head-" I lift my hand to my head and feel something sticky and warm. Blood. "Where am I?" I ask, blankly. "You're in the hospital." The two men answer at once. "Oh." A doctor. Faint beeping. What a stupid question. "Do you remember what happened?" The doctor questions, lifting his pen to his clipboard like a reporter. "I-. well-." I suddenly remember John. "He's gonna kill me," I whisper.

"What?" He asks. I abruptly freak out. Ripping the covers off of me, pain and agony slap me in the face. I scramble to get out of bed but I end up just flailing off of it. "He's gonna kill me!" I scream. Three more doctors arrive and force me back into bed. "No, wait. He's going to-" I can't finish my sentence. Something sharp stabs into my arms and I can feel it travel up into my skin. Once again, my consciousness leaves me alone in the hospital surrounded by fear, the doctors, and him.

Chapter 3 - John "Rachel?" ... "Rachel?" My eyes flutter open and my head starts to hurt. Deja vu. Feels like it. Except when I look over, instead of a doctor, Alya stands beside my bed. "Alya?" I cough. "Hi." I look at her with tired eyes. "Wow. What happened?" She asks, helping me slowly sit up. I'm trembling for some reason so I take a deep breath to calm down. Ready to tell my long story, I open my mouth but close it seconds after. What did happen? Why can't I remember? "I- I don't know!" I stutter. "I really don't know." I look up at her once more but she's looking at a doctor standing in the doorway. "You don't remember?" He asks, grabbing his clipboard without losing eye contact. I shake my head. "No." I pause to try again. "Nope."

"Does the word 'Bodyguard' remind you of anything?" Nothing. I shrug. "What about a Concert?" That does it.

The memories all seem to come back at once. The concert, the man, the pain. The phone call. I slowly look up at Alya. "It was you." I try to say it lightly but it comes off as more of a growling accusation than a statement. "I answered that phone call," I pause to think. "From you." She suddenly looks scared. "What phone call?" A strong voice asks from behind Alya and the doctor. The two look behind them to see a well-dressed man standing at the arch of the door. "I’m sorry, sir. This is friends and family only-" The doctor doesn’t get time to finish. "Ah." The man interrupts, apparently finally remembering that he's a total stranger to us. "My name is Lieutenant Ryan Grayve, I'm with the Dawson police force." "Police force? Why would the police be involved in this?" "Well, this is second-degree abuse to a minor as well as theft, which could lead to murder. Who knows?" He says, matter-of-factly. "What?" Alya and I ask in unison. "Oh, dear god." The doctor flops onto a chair in the corner of the room and lets out a big breath. But, I'm awake and fully well. "What do you mean theft and murder?" I ask, " I mean, I can't even say it was 2-degree abuse either. He just- pushed me." I pause. "Well, that's what I remember at least." I don't make eye contact, but I can feel his accusing eyes pierce through me. An awkward silence rings through the air, not a sound was made but the scratching of the lieutenant writing his notes and the doctor's silent prayers. "I thought-" Alya starts, but quickly stops after I fix her with a detonating glare, which gets the officer's attention. He raises his eyebrows while Alya and I both try to look everywhere but at each other or him. “You thought? You thought what?” He asks, interested in his new apparent found clue. “Nothing.” We both say together again.

Trying to change the subject, I attempt to get them out. “Oh, look at that,” I say, turning towards the clock. “Visiting hours are over. Goodbye, goodbye.” I stand, unsteadily, and hustle everyone out. Closing the door, I breathe slowly and effectively. What is he talking about theft and murder? Am I a suspect? What about John? Will he find me? “That was smooth.” A familiar, gruff-sounding voice said. I whip around and find myself standing face-to-face with my worst nightmare. John.

Chapter 4 - Like rain on concrete I freeze. My blood runs cold and my heartbeat is numb. "Well, well, well." He scowls, "What do we have here?" "J-john," I whisper, stumbling backwards to get as far away from him as possible, which isn't much in a tiny hospital room. Not to mention, completely covered in doctor's equipment. "Surprised?" He asks. "Yeah, I heard about it on the news-." I cut him off, and he pauses as his face goes completely dark and hostile. "Why are you doing this?" I ask, shakily. "Do you know how much money and time your stupidity cost me?" He asks. "Time and money I don't have, let me add." and he did. "I told you what would happen, not that I hate you any less to just do it but I made a mistake, and I kept you alive. Then you went and had to mess everything up. Almost had a guy with thirty thousand, until the police showed up. Had to run for my life before they recognized me." John running from the police, not a surprise. I slowly look around for an exit or at least something to help me out of this hole I apparently put myself in. "I didn't care one bit about who was in the ambulance until I saw you. Now that-" He pauses. "That made me mad. Unfortunately for me, the bodyguard didn't complete the job for me, so now I have to do it myself." I tried to speak but no words come out of my mouth, I don't know what to say. My hands are shaking, my chin is quivering, and my legs feel like jello. He raises his hand and I can feel my breath leave my lungs, my eyes trailing over to the small black object in his hand. “No,” I whisper, about to scream. Unwise.

"Yes," He chuckles. "Oh, yes." "DPD! Stop right there!" A voice rings out, a familiar one. Before I can turn around, a shot slices through the air. "No!" I scream, and a body drops to the ground, solid, like rain on concrete, and stills.

Chapter 5 - Ben