"Hurry up! Eat faster, Brinley, we've got to go," my mom says, rushing through the kitchen.

I put my spoon back in my bowl of Cheerios, looking up, confused. "Mom, it's only seven."

"Exactly," she says, letting out a breath and rummaging through her purse. "We've got to get you to Owen's before my work starts."

"I'm still going to Owen's?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"For a while," she replies, walking towards the door. "Come on, Brinley. Let's go."

I look down at myself and realize I didn't even get myself ready yet this morning. I'm in pink and green stripes pajama pants and a Pink Floyd T Shirt. My hair's up on top of my head in a bun and I've got zero makeup on whatsoever.

"That's not a good idea, mom."

"I don't have time for this," she says, turning around and grabbing onto my arm. "We've got to leave, right now."

So she drags me towards the car, skidding along in my fuzzy socks.

<•>•<•>

My mom drops me off on the side of the road in front of Owen's college. I know how to get there from where I am now, but I still feel a little lost.

The front entrance is a big open gate and I can see multiple students out in the courtyard now. Some looks over in my direction. Others don't notice. I walk past them, towards where I know the dormrooms to be.

A hand wraps around my arm. I let out a squeal, jumping away. I turn around, heart pumping, and find Joey, Owen's roommate. He laughs, one hand resting on his knee, the other still clasped around my wrist.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks, standing straight again after a moment. "You're headed up to Owen's right? I mean, this would be awkward if you weren't."

I nod my head.

And we walk the rest of the way together.

When we get to the correct room, I'm about to knock on the door when Joey just reaches out and opens it up. I blink a few times as he walks past me before entering myself.

"Joey, what are you-" I hear Owen say. Then he sees me. He stops, closes his mouth, and examines me. He smirks in amusement.

I point at him, annoyed. "This isn't funny. I had no time and didn't know I was coming."

"I never said it was funny," Owen replies, trying to hide a smile and failing as his eyes trail over my outfit.

"It was written all over your expression," I retort, hands on my hips.

"Oh really?" He asks, standing up from the couch.

"Would I lie to you?" I ask, walking further into the room after closing the door.

"Probably," he shrugs. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I just are some Cheerios," I say.

"Alright," Owen nods, taking a bag of kettle corn out of the pantry. "I'll just eat this myself."

"Maybe I'm just a little hungry," I sigh, meeting him on the couch and he pulls open the bag.

"Oh my gosh, is that my kettle corn?" Joey asks, rounding the corner.

"...no?" Owen says, putting a handful into his mouth.

"Come here, bring me that!" Joey says, hurrying over to us.

"No, we're already eating it," Owen says.

"Give it to me," Joey walks over to him and holds out a hand.

"Why don't you join us?" I ask. "Then we can all eat it?"

"No, this is mine," Joey says, grabbing his kettle corn and walking away.

Owen and I sit there all empty handed and sad for a little while. He doesn't look at me. But I can't help my eyes from watching him. He's gorgeous. How did my old self attract someone like him? How could I possibly have earned his attention?

Owen looks over at me, eyebrows raised, a smirk on his face.

"What?" I ask.

"I'm gorgeous?" He asks, chuckling.

"I never said you were-" I stop, eyes wide. "Did I say that out loud...?"

He nods, laughing, and I slap a hand over my mouth. My face goes red with embarrassment.

"It's okay," he smiles at me, shaking his head slowly. "I think you're gorgeous, too."

My eyes widen and I open my mouth to say something. But nothing comes out.

Then my phone vibrates in my pocket. It startles me at first, and I jump a little. Then I pull it out of my pocket, and look down.

'Meet me at 1200 S and 500 E at nine tonight. We need to talk.' -Jonathan

Owen leans over to me and looks at my screen. I can see the tension in his arm as he reads and rereads the message. Then he takes it from my hands, a concentrated look on his face.

He presses a few buttons, then holds the phone to his ear, jaw tight.

"What are you-?" I start, but I guess the person on the other end of the call answers before I finish.

"Jonathan, this is Owen," he says, eyes locked on mine. "I don't appreciate you bothering Brinley. I thought we talked about this before. I am not afraid to... No, I don't give a crap about how changed you are. No. Leave her alone, or I will beat the crap out of you. I will not hesitate." Then he hangs up the phone, shaking out his hand that was clenched during the call.

He hands it back to me and I put it back in my pocket.

He looks at me for a long time, taking deep breaths. "Don't go tonight. Do not go where he asked you to."

I stare at him, still surprised.

"Okay?" He asks.

"Fine," I nod my head, looking down at my socks.

"I'm serious, Brinley," he says. "I know you're a stubborn person, naturally. But don't do anything that boy tell you to. It's especially dangerous now that you don't remember what kind of person he was."

"I won't," I shake my head.

Owen relaxes back onto the couch now, beside me. He lets his eyes fall closed, looking still on edge.

"I need to get rid of that guy," he mutters under his breath.

<•>•<•>

It's almost seven, and I'm at home by now. I can't help my eyes from checking over the message I got from Jonathan earlier. To meet him at seven.

Of course I'm not going to go. I wouldn't risk that, especially after what Owen told me.

But watching the clock makes me anxious for some reason.

"Brinley?"

I look over to my doorway. Clarin stand there, watching me.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"You okay?" She asks.

"I'm fine," I reply. "Why?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for almost a minute. And you've checked your phone at least five times," she replies, walking inside.

"Oh, sorry, I'm good. What do you need?" I ask.

"I was just going to tell you I'm leaving," she says. "I'm going to Jess's house. I'll be back in the morning."

"Alright," I nod to her. Then she leaves.

I decide after about ten minutes of sitting doing absolutely nothing, that I should just go to bed. So I do.

<•>•<•>

I wake up to a crashing noise. I sit straight up in my bed, eyes going black from the sudden movement.

The window is still open how I left it, a light breeze flowing inside. I look around, afraid of what I'll find. And I see a rock, a good sized one, sitting on my hardwood floor.

I slide out of my bed, rushing over to it. When I pick it up, there's a paper taped onto the back.

Come outside.

Assuming it's Owen, I walk over to the closet and pull out my shoes. I grab a jacket and my phone then slowly press the door open. It hardly makes a sound. Then I walk down the stairs, careful not to slip in my socks and face plant.

It's not even three in the morning. What is Owen doing here at this time?

When I walk through the kitchen and to the back door, a shudder goes down my spine. Something's not right.

I pull open the door and walk out into the cool night air. At first I don't see anyone. My eyes adjust slowly to the darkness. Then I see a figure approaching. As it comes closer, I can see the shadow.

"Owen," I whisper, "what are you doing?"

He gets closer, but I can't see his face in the dark. When he's hardly three feet away from me, I can tell that it isn't him. That's not Owen. That's Jonathan.

My chest lurches, and I turn around, searching for an escape. But he catches my wrist, then pulls me towards him.

"Brinley," he says, voice rough, "you've got to listen to me-"

"No! Get away! Help-" I yell.

Then he puts his hand over my mouth, blocking out my screams. He tries to calm me down, but I thrash, trying to escape his grip.

"Shh, we don't want to wake anyone," he says, and I can smell his foul breath. "I need you to listen."

I kick at him, but he isn't fazed, being so much stronger than I am.

"I know you don't want anything to do with me," he says. "But we can be different. We could go back to being happy, Brinley. Don't you miss that?"

I try to cry out again, but nothing is working.

And I realize, I have my phone in my pocket. I slowly reach back to it, pressing the home button with it still in my pocket.

"You're the only girl I ever think about," he says, in almost a whisper. "You're all I want."

I slide my finger blindly across the screen, where I hope it will open up. Then by muscle memory, I pray that I'm pressing the 'phone' button. What was Owen's number? Oh, gosh. I've got to call him. What's his number?

"We were meant to be together," he says. "I want to take you with me. I'm moving uptown to an apartment building. And I want to take you. We don't have to tell anyone. We can just leave."

What's Owen's number? What is it? Wait, it's on speed dial! It's number 3. I try to imagine the keypad there and press my imaginary three, keeping my eyes on Jonathan and my hand in my pocket. And I press what I hope to be call.

"There's no way you can say no," Jonathan continues. "You have to come. Because we'll be happy."

I plead for Owen to answer and hear Jonathan talking and understand my plead for help.

"Come with me," he says. "Our lives can go back to how they were. Okay?"

I try to pull out of his grip again, and this time I catch him off guard. I slip from his grasp, rushing towards the door. His arms close around my waist before I can turn the knob. I let out a shriek as he picks me up and starts pulling me towards the backyard fence he must have come through.

"Don't fight me," he says. "Don't you dare start resisting me like this. It isn't fair to me, you know. I give you everything."

I'm being hopelessly pulled out to the fence, and my attempts to escape are of no prevail. I feel like crying. I'm being kidnapped by an ex-boyfriend I don't even remember, who supposedly hurt and yelled at me. He's dragging me away to his car.

"Stop fighting this," he says, holding me facing him again, at a stop. His hand is still covering my mouth to prevent my screams from reaching the ears of anyone to help me. "I know you'll be happy. And if you aren't, I'll show you what happiness is."

He takes his hand off my mouth and presses his dirty lips to my own. His grip on me is too strong. I can't escape it. I bite down onto his lip as hard as I possibly can. I can taste his blood, and he screams, putting a hand to his bloody lip. I wipe any trace of the disgusting taste from my mouth.

He grabs my arm, dragging me closer to him. Then he slaps me across the face. It stings clear to my eye. My entire right cheek feels numb. I try to see through my right eye, but the vision is going black and blurring in and out.

And suddenly Jonathan is ripped away from me. I look up, finding that he's been tackled to the ground by somebody. That somebody is repeatedly punching Jonathan in the face. It's Owen. It has to be.

I lean against the wall, my left hand lightly touching my cheek. Jonathan tries to flip Owen over, but Owen takes one swing to his temple, and Jonathan lays on the grass out cold.

Owen immediately rushes over to me, examining my cheek with a furious expression on his face. His fingertips gently glide along my cheek, his eyes searching mine.

"Does this hurt?" He asks, looking concerned.

"No," I wince, "just stings a little."

Then I look at Jonathan, laying there on the ground. His note through my window. His promise to make me happy. Him taking me towards the gate. His lips on mine. His hand slapping my face.

And I realize what a horrible night I've had. I can't take any more. I start to cry. I would put my face in my hands, but it hurts at the touch.

Owen takes me gently into his arms, and I rest my left cheek on his shoulder. He holds me still, and I listen to his breathing for a long time.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"Don't... Don't be sorry," I whisper back between sobs. "Thank you so much for coming to get me."

"Of course. Of course," he says.

And when I look up at him again, I realize that he looks half asleep. He's in his navy sweatpants and a grey T shirt, hair tasseled. His eyes look dark and tired. It's as if he heard the phone call and literally ran out if bed to come here.

I'm suddenly so much more grateful for Owen than I've ever felt before. I pull him back towards me, burying my head in my shirt, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," I whisper one last time.