"Jules, are you okay?" I woke up to the sound of a man's voice. I was shaken, and quickly sat up, bumping heads with my English teacher.

"Ow," I groaned, putting my hands to my head.

He stared at me, tears in his eyes. "Jules I am so sorry, I don't know what happened. Are you okay? We need to get you to the hospital, now."

"I'm fine," I tried saying, but Mr. Lawrence kept talking to himself, ignoring my input. He picked me up, still wrapped in blankets, and carried me out to the red truck that had brought me here before.

He ignited the engine and we went on our way to the hospital.

He mumbled to himself all the way there.

"I'm okay," I tried assuring him again.

He hit the dashboard. "I remember, Jules! I remember. I remember everything I've done. I remember... I remember."

Mr. Lawrence, in his disheveled clothes, carried me straight into the emergency room, so fast I wouldn't have believed it true. I laid my head against his chest and closed my eyes, and he held me in a fatherly way. It might have seemed weird, considering all that had happened in the past several days, but I knew it wasn't him that did all of that.

It was the first time I realized that he could be actually nice.

The lady at the front desk gasped loudly and said, "What's wrong with her?"

Mr. Lawrence hesitated. "I found her, I don't know what happened, and she won't tell me."

I was glad he didn't say the truth. It wasn't his fault. He had a life. He shouldn't get in trouble for what he didn't do.

The nurse called us in quickly as possible, and I was laid down in on a bed. Mr. Lawrence was in a corner calling my parents, talking to them in a worried voice, while the nurse was examining me. She tried taking off the blankets around me, but I panicked.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped. I knew I hadn't healed overnight.

She looked worried. "Sweetie, what happened?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

She paused and handed me a robe to put on. "I'll be right back," she said.

I put on the robe on in the bathroom as soon as she left. Mr. Lawrence refused to leave the hospital, and twenty minutes later my parents showed up. The nurse still hadn't returned.

My mother wrapped her arms around me while my father choked up in the corner, talking to Mr. Lawrence. My teacher played dumb and I went along with him, saying I could hardly remember anything.

"I am just so glad you're okay," my mom cried. I bit my lip as tears formed. I hated lying, but I couldn't tell her what really happened for two reasons: Mr. Lawrence would go to jail and people would think I was crazy. So I didn't say anything.

I was also in a lot of pain.

Thirty minutes later the nurse came back and pulled me into another room for examination. I let her this time because no one was around.

Several times she sighed sadly when she realized what condition part of my body was in. I had bruises in between my legs, on my arms, my stomach, and face. I had the long cut from my ear to the side of my lip from the first day. People were going to ask about that.

"Do you know who did this to you?" she asked.

"No, I couldn't see his face," I lied. "He just picked me up outside my house when I went home."

She kept asking me questions that I couldn't answer so eventually I quit talking. The nurse seemed frustrated, but she gave up, and I was allowed to go back to the hospital room.

----------------------

The cops showed up around 2 pm later that day. They asked me a ton of questions, questions that I - quite rudely - refused to answer. One man walked in wearing a sheriff's uniform, after his men had given up.

He had sandy blonde hair that was short and green eyes. His nose was far too big for his face, and his thin lips were set in an eternal scowl. I internally groaned because, just from the look on his face, I could tell he was a person that wouldn't let you get away with anything.

"Hello, Jules," he said in an overly sweet voice, though I could tell he was just trying get me in a zone of comfort.

Well, sir, sorry to dissapoint, but I am not in any place of joy. "I'm Sheriff Coldwell. It's nice to meet you. I'm going to have to ask you what happened," he told me.

"I don't know what happened!" I said, acting exasperated. I slumped into a lower position, aciting like I was really tired of everything. "I already told your men and the nurse that I don't remember much. I would appreciate it if you guys stopped asking me all these questions!"

He paused. "Much?"

I looked down, angry over the little slip. "I remember being taken and waking up at the hospital. Nothing in between."

Sheriff Coldwell didn't give up asking me questions for a long time. Some things were simple, like, Did you know where you were? Could you tell me who the man was? Why do you think this would happen? and some were a little bit harder. Example: Do you know of anyone who holds grudges against you? Have you done anything to make anyone angry? Do you know of any relatives that are against your parents, maybe?

But whether they were hard or easy questions, I felt like I honestly couldn't answer them. I didn't know my real parents. I've never met anyone that has been openly hostile to me. Maybe somebody does hate me, I just don't know about it. I mostly ignore everyone, and everyone ignored me... I honestly wouldn't be able to point out any person in particular that loathed me that much.

I grew tired of all the worrying and thinking so I pretended to fall asleep. Finally, giving up after so many hours, the Sheriff said, "Okay, I think you're free to go."

I went home and at night I thought about all the awful things that had happened in the past few days. Not only just to me, but what if those girls that died had the same thing happen to them? And they didn't even survive through it.

I couldn't decide which was worse. Having to live through it, or die because of it.

--------------

"Jules, wake up, I have something for you."

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was my mothers smiling face, and when I saw her smiling face I, myself, smiled.

I hadn't realized I had fallen asleep. One minute I was laying on my bed reading one of my favorite books, Interview With The Vampire, and the next I was being woken up to the sound of my mother's soft, smooth, soprano voice.

She looked kind of like me, which was weird, because I was adopted. She had the same eyes and face shape. Other than that, we were different, her with her fire red hair, and me with my brown. My mother was short and curvy and very beautiful.

My parents met when I was born. It took two years for them to get married. They tried for a two more years to have a child, but it just wasn't happening, so they adopted a little girl from a little orphanage in New York.

The girl they adopted was me. I don't remember much from when I at the orphanage. I could vaguely remember times when I would get in trouble and I would have to go to bed early, but I guess it couldn't have been too horrible of a place if I didn't remember the bad.

She handed me breakfast in bed. It was full of eggs, toast, and bacon. I wasn't that hungry, but I just smiled and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetie. Your father and I have to go to work today. Are you going to be okay here at home alone?" She asked me.

I smiled. "Of course I am. Have fun at work, okay?"

"Can do." She kissed my forehead. My father walked by my bedroom door right then and came in to kiss my forehead also.

"Bye, bud," he said.

My parents left then and after trying to go back to sleep but failing, I went downstairs to watch a movie.

After making tea, I put on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Halfway through it, however, I did fall asleep, content as I listened to the sound of the beginning of the time changing scene, even though it was my favorite scene. I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, and I wished that, like Hermione, I could go back and change time.