"Brinley," Owen's voice finds mine as I try to lift myself off the ground I just fell onto. "I can't see you."

"It's dark," my voice is hollow.

"Come here, follow my voice," he says.

It isn't hard, considering it's a small room. Five square feet at most. When I reach him, he takes my right hand in his. His fingers softly trail up it, and I know it is completely soaked in blood. I wince when he reaches the actual cut.

He quickly rips off his jacket and slowly starts dabbing at the blood. He's gentle with me, even though I wince at every touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do this-"

"No, I'm sorry I let you out of my sight. I'm sorry I didn't come with you. I knew better, I knew we were downtown. I'm sorry," he says, and he sounds so pained.

"It's okay. I'm okay," I say in a soft voice.

His hand gently touches my cheek. "You don't have to be okay."

I look down, frowning. No, I'm not okay. I'm nowhere near okay. But I don't really want to sort out every emotion I have right now. All I know is that whatever it is, I'm not okay.

"It's late," Owen says. "You can sleep. I'll be right here."

I shake my head. "No. No, I can't sleep."

He pushes my hair behind my ear. "Why not?" He asks softly.

"Because I'm afraid," I say with a long breath, "that when I wake up, you'll be gone."

I can't see his face, but I can hear his sigh. He pulls me into his arms and drapes his jacket over me, careful not to touch my arm wound. I lay my head back on his chest and he wraps his arms around me protectively. It's the safest I've felt in two days.

"I'll stay right here," he whispers to me.

Listening to his breaths, I manage to fight my way into a restless sleep.

<•>•<•>

"Up!" A voice bellows in the room.

When I bolt upright, my head nicks Owen in the jaw. I find that I'm still in his arms. He doesn't say anything, but he gently helps me onto my feet. I can't even feel my arm. My head feels light, probably because of blood loss. I can see a puddle of it on Owen's grey T shirt. He doesn't complain.

"Come on, we've got some talking to do. Out, out, faster," Jonathan says.

When I start walking, I feel dizzy. I find it difficult to stay on my feet. Owen seems to sense this. He wraps an arm around my waist to help me into the other room.

I'm thoroughly shocked by what I find. Jory's unconscious in the middle of the room, hands cuffed behind his back. He has a huge bump on the side of his forehead. It looks like he's been through a battle.

"Couch. Go. Sit," Jonathan ushers us forward.

Owen helps me there and eases me onto it. My stomach hisses in hunger and I realize now that I haven't eaten in a day and a half.

"Are you starving her?" Owen asks, having heard the growl my stomach made.

Jonathan rolls his eyes. "I forgot how irritating you are."

"Are you starving her?" He repeats firmer.

"No," Jonathan replies. He gestures to Tommy who throws a granola bar at me. I unwrap it with shaky hands and eat it slowly.

"You," Jonathan says to Owen. "Away from the girl."

"No," Owen replies immediately.

"I don't want to have to do this the hard way," Jonathan says. "And I don't think you want to either."

Owen reluctantly leaves my side, hand squeezing mine as some sort of promise. I look down at my feet, heart thudding. I want this all to end. Now. I want it over.

"Now," Jonathan says, "Brinley, I can't fathom why you decided to put your trust in such a worthless scumbag-"

"Don't you say that," I say in the strongest voice I can muster.

"-because you know that you and I... The chemistry we have... It's unreachable," Jonathan finishes. "You remember how much we loved each other."

"I actually don't," I point out blankly.

"You remember how we were, you remember how happy you were with me," Jonathan says.

"You seem to have missed some facts about my life while I was supposedly shunning you," I tell him.

"What do you-"

"I lost my memory, Jonathan," I say. "I don't remember anything that happened before just about a month ago."

"How did that happen?" Jonathan looks confused and stunted.

"It doesn't matter to you," I reply.

Jonathan stands up and walks over, pulling his fist back in a threatening manner. I draw back, waiting for impact.

"Tell me. You need to learn honesty."

"I jumped out of a moving car," I say quickly.

"Wait..." He looks over to Owen in confusion. "That's how you lost your memory, is it?"

"Yes."

"Hm," Jonathan hums his amusement. "That's funny... Since I spoke to you just after that accident and your mentality was in perfect shape."

I turn to Owen in confusion, but his eyes are on Jonathan and he looks irritated.

"We don't need you psyching her out," Owen says.

Jonathan only laughs. "Wow, Brinley, you've found yourself a keeper. I think he needs to learn a bit of honesty himself..."

He surprises both of us by abruptly kicking Owen in the ribs. Owen hunches over in pain, the wind knocked out of him. Jonathan kicks at him again, this time in the head. Owen throws a fist into Jonathan's gut. That's retaliated with an uppercut that forces Owen stumbling backwards.

And then the violence stops when Jonathan falls to the floor.

I seem to have forgotten Joey's unconscious presence here, but now he's awake and has knocked Jonathan's legs out from under him.

"Hey, B," Joey says with a small grin. I don't understand his cheeriness in this situation at all.

"Urgh," Jonathan grunts, standing up.

Joey follows suit, also standing up. They look like they're about to fight each other, even though Joey's arms are handcuffed, but instead the door flies open.

One of the large men walks in. Joey bolts out the door before it can close. Everyone runs after him, but someone has the brilliant thought to lock us inside before leaving as well. I feel miserable once again, realizing that Joey will never get away and get help with that many people coming for him.

And then I see it. My only hope. The last gleam at the end of this dark tunnel. Someone left their phone on the table.

I rush to it, almost tripping over myself. I pick it up and flip it to emergency call, not bothering with the passcode. That's when I see that there are no bars. No reception.

"No," I say hopelessly. "No, no, come on."

I stand up on top of the couch and raise the phone upwards. Owen is standing beside me now, looking determined as well.

"Two bars," I let out a relieved breath and dial 911.

"Hello, this is the Pearlin County police department. What is the address of your emergency?" a woman's voice says calmly.

"Help us, please, we've been kidnapped... I don't know where, someplace pretty deserted. Please find us, they have weapons," I say, my voice cracking.

"Stay calm ma'am, we will track your phone-"

The doorknob jingles and I quickly hang up the phone and place it back on the table where it was before. Owen puts a comforting hand on my shoulder as the door bursts open. Joey is in tow, and they drag him back inside. He's unconscious again.

The man the phone belongs to pockets it right away with a suspicious glance at us. I pretend not to notice.

"I take it back," Jonathan says. "You're not the most irritating person I've ever met. This guy is."

"I'm relieved," Owen rolls his eyes.

I can see a bruise forming on his jaw. Either that is from yesterday when he first came or from just now. Either way, it looks very painful.

"You are all too much trouble. You're not anywhere worth having fun with," Jonathan runs a hand down his face. "I just want you all done with. Yes, you too Brinley. I've found that you're too stubborn of a b-"

"You're not going to lay a finger on her," Owen warns.

"Yes," Jonathan replies. "Yes I am, and you're not going to stop me."

Jonathan pulls out his gun again and points it first at Joey. Before I can do anything, he shoots him in the stomach. I let out a shout of horror, eyes wide. I can't believe... I can't believe that just happened. No way. He can't be dead. He had better not be dead.

But then Owen is on Jonathan, and I can see that Owen grips the knife Jonathan had earlier. Jonathan looks just as surprised as I feel as Owen attempts to attack him.

Jonathan dropped the gun, I notice, in his shock. I quickly pick it up. I hold it up and aim it at Jonathan shakily. Owen sees me doing so and gives me a quick nod. He steps away right as I pull the trigger. I look away, unable to bring myself to look at the bloody head I just put a bullet through. I drop the gun.

I almost forgot there are other people in here. The other men look stunned. They stop in their tracks, all staring at their dead leader.

And then the door is open once again. This time it isn't oncoming danger, it's oncoming safety.

The police are here.