Rachel is 16 and very, very bored with her life. So when she is kidnapped by a bank robber with unknown intentions, she is beyond excited! The bank robber, however, is going to be so annoyed he'll wish he was never born…

Every Thursday at one o'clock in the afternoon the wealthy Mrs. Carol Elizabeth O'Donnell went to the grocery store and bought seventeen heads of lettuce and a bottle of maple vinaigrette, which was all she would eat that week, except on Sundays. Whilst there, she would always, at one twenty-four sharp, pick up and examine a raspberry almond cheese wheel, and then decide it was not for her. After this Mrs. O'Donnell would proceed to her luxury sports car and drive across town to the bank and take out two hundred-thirty dollars, which she would spend vigorously over the remainder of that week. She would donate a hundred to a charity for an orphanage, spend thirty-seven on a facial treatment for her aging, and the final ninety-three were used up in attempts to make her body fertile again. Mrs. O'Donnell, unbeknownst to her wealthy businessman husband, had always wanted a child. When the occasion struck, she would pay for an ice cream when a mother hadn't enough money, or help a lost little girl find her way home.

Every Thursday at one thirty in the afternoon, St. Florien High school let out an hour early, releasing Rachel Dowling from her prison of a biology class and into the arms of her obnoxious stepmother, who then went to the dime store in search of trinkets to sell off eBay and bade her to "shoo." It was during these times that Rachel liked to visit the wealthy bank across the street, and admire the tall, elegant lion statues that stood inside the doors like guards. She always took them in with a sense of awe, noticing new details and tiny Latin inscriptions in their manes. Her simple jeans-and-a-t-shirt outfit was always the same, but Rachel wasn't exactly like everybody else. She wanted adventure. She just hadn't had the chance yet.

On one such Thursday afternoon Jared Calhoun, a twenty-year-old man, was waiting impatiently at the side of the bank for the guard shift to change. He appeared to be talking on his cell phone, but he was truly alert. Kimberly Granshire came around his side of the building from the back parking lot, and with one well-aimed punch, she was out for good. Jared quickly brought her into the bathroom next to him and stashed her in a stall, and walked casually into the building. As he went, slowly and casually he took in his target's position. Now he just needed someone young, alone. His eyes picked up a girl standing with her back to him eyes enraptured in the lion statue to his right.

And then he pulled his gun.

"Nobody move!" He shouted, and the room fell silent. "Now," Jared sauntered over to his chosen girl, "Everyone get on the floor. Except you, little missy," he added in a husky undertone, "You get to be the hostage."

"Is there a Mrs. O'Donnell in here?" A wrinkled woman rose from the ground crying, "Please don't hurt her! I'll give you a-anything- everything!" Jared merely smirked.

"I want you to with draw all your money on site and hand it over." Mrs. O'Donnell gave a shaky nod to the counter manager, who disappeared behind a wall.

Jared was currently disguised with dyed black hair, pale skin, and a nose ring. His eyes were contact brown and he was wearing a reasonable amount of eyeliner. His voice was high for a boy, and he had a faint southern accent.

Rachel felt she was doing an admirable job of keeping her cool, considering this robber was holding her neck with a gun to her head. But somehow, she didn't think he would pull the trigger on her, even if the woman had refused. This was likely his first robbery: he hadn't even taken the time to hide his face.

Or had he? Rachel felt powder on the back of her neck, which was primarily sweaty and definitely not natural. Perhaps the robber actually had tan skin. Rachel chanced a look at his face. He wasn't watching her; rather, his eyes were glued to the money that was coming his way, in a black case that would be very suspicious if he was seen in the parking lot. From the side, Rachel could tell he was wearing contacts of some sort, but she couldn't entirely see the color underneath them. She squinted, and suddenly the suitcase was in his hands. Rachel was still being held at gunpoint, though, but she was being pulled to the door, much to the looks of horror on the faces of the counter lady and Mrs. O'Donnell. But Rachel didn't care. She followed the gestures of the strange man and walked peaceably with him out the door, and still on into his black truck. One thought in particular registered in her mind- not to run, not to use her cell phone whenever she got the chance- but that if, as it seemed, this man was going to kidnap her, he was in for hell.