Note: Thanks to Dreamthief's daughter for reviewing. It's greatly appreciated.

I woke up to the feeling of cold, damp stone on my back. What a pleasant feeling to wake up to. Shivering, I sat up as slowly as I could possibly manage, and tried not to throw up when my headache (more like migraine) made itself known, along with every other injury I had on my body. The cold feeling Franco had instilled within me hadn't gone away, and as I looked down at my legs, I realized that I was turning a light bluish color. Why? What had he done to me? I wondered whether Franco had realized that his plans to keep me locked up had failed somewhat now, and that his handy man was frozen - no, by now he must have melted. Grimacing, I looked at the water that was now covering every inch of the ground in the hall. I was sitting in it come to think of it, not that the wet feeling bothered me. I was beyond being disgusted by something like that. I was not, however, beyond feeling disgusted by the fact that the water I was sitting in had once been a person. Shrieking in repulsion, I scrambled to my feet as quickly as my injuries would allow, trying not to let any other part of my body come in contact with the water.

Unsteadily, I moved to the wall, and using it for support, walked a few feet while anxiously kicking away the articles of clothing that Lucas had been wearing. His blazer, his pants, his shoes, his shirt. He'd had a life before this. He'd had hopes, and dreams, and fears, and losses, and I'd taken them all away. I stopped only to reach across the hall, and grab the set of keys he'd inserted in the keyhole. How could I have been involved in all of this in such a short amount of time? I hadn't even known these people, and already, I was mourning their deaths. More importantly, how was I going to make sure I didn't end up like them?

I reached a fork at the end of the hallway. On the left, there was a dark passage, so shadowy I couldn't see a foot past its entrance. To the right, there was a more hospitable-looking hallway. I stood at the crossroads, and had to laugh at my dilemma. Which way to go? I turned my head to the left, the foreboding corridor beckoning to my fears. Then, I looked to the right at the bright hallway, its carpets and torches calling me to safety. I'd taken two steps to the right, when a scene from my past came to play before my eyes, like a cheesy flashback scene from an old movie.

I was in the bookstore, Barnes & Noble, to be exact. I'd been waiting near the register for my mom to come back with her pile of books to buy. I hadn't even bothered trying to find one; literature had no interest in keeping me, nor did I have any interest in trying to convince it otherwise. Wondering what was taking her so long, I stepped into the aisle nearest me, and sure enough, she was there, trying to stuff one more book onto the now humongous pile she had cradled in her arms.

'Mom? You need some help?'

'Oh no, I'm fine honey! Why don't you look around for something to buy, hmm? There are just so many wonderful books I know you'd love.'

'Uh no thanks mom, I'm good.'

'Sweetheart, just this once, satisfy your mother's wish and find a book. I don't care what it's about, just as long as it's something you promise you'll read.'

Shrugging, I rolled my eyes and strolled down the aisle opposite to the one I'd been in. I walked past the shelves full of books that contained information I couldn't care less about. Looking a little more carefully at their covers, I realized that all of these books were on sale. I guess I'd be saving one of these from the bin, wouldn't I? Sighing, I figured the fastest way to get a book would be to pick it out randomly. I closed my eyes and turned around a few times, my arm stretched out in front of me. After a few seconds of doing this, I stopped and opened my eyes. My finger hadn't landed on any of the shelves, instead it was pointing down towards the aisle my mom had been in. Grinning slightly, I turned around with my arm outstretched again. This time, it landed on a shelf a few feet away. I walked to it curiously, reading the array of titles on the many books that had been crammed together.

I was about to grab one called, '1000 Women that Made a Difference', when one a few books down caught my eye, 'The Poetry of Robert Frost'. I left my left hand lingering over the first book, but grabbed the second. The dark cover caught my eye with its simplicity. A dark wood full of dead trees was contrasted by a light yellow sky. '1000 Women that Made a Difference'forgotten, I opened 'The Poetry of Robert Frost' to a random page. I glanced at the page number, 105, and read the title, 'The Road Not Taken'. Slightly interested, I read more. By the time I'd finished, tears were pricking at my eyes, threatening to fall at the slightest bit of encouragement.

'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Then, it stopped, just as suddenly as it had began, like a car at a red light. Sighing, I turned from the hallway on the right, and made my way towards the corridor to my left. I might as well take the road not taken, right? Who knew what consequences I'd have to deal with for this.

I groped my way into the bleak passageway, and after only a few seconds, I wasn't able to see a few inches in front of me. I turned around, making sure to keep my hands on the wall, and looked at the still visible hallway I'd been about to walk into. Maybe I should just take that road anyway? Uncertainly, I walked back a ways, unsure of what to do. After a few moments of staring in the hallway, I figured it'd probably be the safer option, and made my way towards it. I'd only gone a few steps into the passageway I was currently in when I heard shouts coming from beyond the hallway. I stared in horror, waiting for the inevitable. Franco had to have found out what had happened.

I saw them turn a corner and start down the brightly lit hallway. They had to be either guards or soldiers because they had weapons, although all that registered in my mind were the weapons. They were going to use those on me if they found me. They couldn't, though, they couldn't find me or I'd be in a shit load of trouble. I gasped audibly as they came closer, unsure of whether they'd noticed me or not, and turned and ran.

Disclaimer I do not own the poem 'The Road Not Taken', it belongs to Robert Frost.