86A/N: Well, another new chapter! I know it's really short & all but I just kind of stopped at a weird place... , if there's any of you out here who still think my story is decent - I hope this chapter's okay. By the way: I don't know if I'd mentioned this before or not, but this whole story was based off the song Whispers In The Dark by the band Skillet - it's an amazing song that you should really check out!
"Well, Darling, it's your lucky day." I wasn't so sure of what my father's voice was saying in my ear, as he pulled at the ropes that strapped me down to the chair. With some relief, I felt the last one fall away and struggled to rise to my feet, nearly falling down at once. Three day straight in a chair hadn't helped my balance in the least. My head was spinning, and I reached for the back of the chair to steady myself, refusing to lean on my father for help. "We're letting you go back to Shane."
"Why are you doing all this?" I couldn't stop the question from tumbling out of my mouth, although I already knew I wouldn't recieve an answer. I hadn't managed to even get his first name out of all of this, and I highly doubted he would be willing to say anything else.
I was tired and confused and weak, and being so close to all these people I couldn't trust only made it worse. And now, randomly, they'd decided to just let me go, after all the trouble they'd gone through to get me here? I couldn't understand any of what was going on.
I stumbled away from my father's touch as his hand found my arm, not wanting to even be near him. He sighed.
"One day you'll remember, Mitchie, and realize you were wrong in your opinion of both of us."
And with that, two men quickly grabbed me and threw me into what I assumed was a car, and those were the last words I'd heard from my father. Before I could comprehend what had happened, I was thrown against the back of the seat as the driver slammed on the gas pedal and, with a screech, the car bolted forwards. I groaned as my head slammed against the car door - maybe when they had said they would release me, they'd meant that they were planning on killing me - at least it was all I could think of as the car slid dangerously down the streets. Maybe I hadn't misjudged my father at all.
It seemed I was to be released, after all, although I wasn't certain what they hoped to accomplish by pushing me out on my own. Unconciously, memories of that first day in L.A. began to push their way forwards, and I could barely hold back my tears. I'd rather them just kill me now than let me go back to that helpless position, where I was left to wander blindly down neverending streets until I was hit by a car or harrassed by another group of people. It was almost unbearable.
"This is the place," A voice spoke - the driver, possibly, "They aren't far from here, it won't take long for them to find her... if she can find her way to the street." There was a laugh at the end of his sentence, and I flinched. I could never forget about my mad dash headlong into traffic, or the way Shane's arms had wrapped tightly around me as we sat on the sidewalk after my near-death experience.
I slammed against the back of the driver's seat as he slammed on his brakes suddenly. The car had barely stopped when I felt someone push me out of the door, and I hit the sidewalk, rolling a few feet from the force. Groaning, lying on my sore back, I stared sightlessly up towards the sky, trying to catch my breath and collect myself. I was alone again, utterly alone, and somehow, this was worse than being a prisioner of my own father and his dangerous men.
I could never forget the horror of knowing that I was on my own in a big city, and unable to even see what was going on around me.
With a gasp, I pushed myself up, blinking back tears of pain as I stumbled to my feet, ignoring my aching body. If I was going to survive out here, I needed to find a way to get off the streets - before dark, this time.
As I stepped forwards, I felt something crack under my feet. Hesitantly, I dropped down to pick up the object, feeling it cautiously with my hands. With a small shock, I realized it was the sunglasses I'd gotten the first day, when someone had pushed them into my hands. I felt the cracked frame regretfully - whomever had pushed me out of the car had obviously thrown them out next to me.
A tear slid down my cheek - somehow, the fact that I'd destroyed the sunglasses cut more deeply than I had expected, and frowning, I let them drop from my hand. There was no time to mourn over something so unimportant, when I had much bigger issues to face.
It was time to begin moving, if for no other reason than the fact that my father might change his mind, and if that did happen, I wasn't going to simply sit where he'd left me, waiting to be kidnapped again. I had to keep moving, if nothing else I had to throw him off my trail.
I stumbled forwards, my hand held awkwardly infront of me, hoping desperately that I wasn't about to walk out into the street. To my relief, the sidewalk didn't drop off into the road, and there was no screeching brakes to warn me I'd nearly gotten myself killed.
It didn't take me all of ten minutes to realize that if this was going to work, I was going to have to stop pitying myself, and viewing myself as helpless. Success and failure simply didn't work together. I had to make this work, I had to stop thinking that I would never survive on my own.
Straightening slightly, I tried to pretend everything was alright and forget about everything that had happened - I had to focus on finding a hotel, at the least, where I could stay until I figured out how to get in contact with Shane.
Somehow, this small fact gave me the strength to continue walking - I had a goal now, instead of just wandering aimlessly waiting for someone to rescue me again. I had to do this on my own, I had to do something.
People brushed against me, ignoring me as I attempted to catch their attention - "excuse me," - and I groaned. This was too much like the day I'd been wandering without knowing where I was going or what I was doing here, and the helplessness I'd begun to feel as the day went on slowly began to return.
I stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, not able to help the tears from falling down my cheeks - I was tired and sore and afraid. Was there anyone in L.A. at all that I could get to direct me to a hotel? I knew that without someone to at least point me in the right direction, I would never find one, and so far not a single person had even spared me a moment of their time.
Why, of all cities to be lost in, did I have to be in L.A?