Hello reader, I'm so glad you read my first chapter. Here's the next! ENJOY!

A long, long while later, I wasn't sure for how long, the truck halted to a stop. I woke up, dazed, and found Fyss opening the truck door. A large amount of mumbling could be heard as the bright light hit our eyes after so long in the dim truck. At least we had seats. Fyss hopped out, as if he was going to leave us where we were. But instead, he did a series of stretches.

I looked outside. We were in a building already, and what had once seemed like sunlight was actually a brightly lit bulb accompanied by many others at the top of the high ceiling. They must have done this so that the way out could be hidden from our knowledge. Then, appearing as if from the distance in the long stretched room with white walls, ceiling, and floor, several dozen men appeared, each quite individual, and Fyss hurled some orders at them.

"Bring 'em out an' lock 'em up in th' testin' room" he ordered. The men, tall, short, plump, thin round, dark, light, of every variety, came into the truck, and each henchman took one hostage and walked them down the large hall.

"Boss," called the one who had me, the first one, "which wing?"

Fyss looked me in the eye as he replied, "T' th' East."

The henchman, a bit roughly, took me down the hallway. He took no turns until about twenty minutes of walking later. Then he took a left, a right, and a left again. He pulled out a key and opened a grey metal door, sealed tightly.

After he opened it, the door revealed a very large white room, like the hallway, with chains and shackles all along the walls, each set approximately five feet from the others all around the room. The room was square in shape, so many shackles along the wall that it looked capable of fitting up to fit twenty or so people.

The henchman locked me up at a set of shackles near the center of the back wall, for the door was exactly opposite of me. A little higher than the base of the wall a ledge protruded outwards. It was a seat. A set of cuffs were connected together and locked my wrists behind me. A chain came out of them about a foot or two long that was attached to the wall. Similarly, there was a set of cuffs that held my ankles together at the base of the wall. A chain also attached those cuffs to the wall. There were other hostages being taken in already. I had assumed correctly; this business was quite professional.

I watched as the hostages were slowly one by one filed into the room and locked up against the walls. I met the eyes of Lorayne, a bit panicked, and she was put on the space a few shackles to my right. Then I saw Conner, who looked around fearfully. He was locked up against the wall to my left. Several other students and people from the lobby were mumbled in. Jenny was but a few shackles to my left. Slowly, after a little while, I realized that all the females were put on the wall opposite of the door. Had they really planned something? After all the hostages seemed to be stabilized, Fyss and the man who had the champagne glass earlier came inside the room with three men and closed the door. The man spoke.

"You will receive two meals a day, and two bathroom breaks a day. We'll keep record of the bathroom breaks."

Fyss stared at me, hard. His eyes never let go. I watched him, confused whether I should feel afraid or not.

"Please don't try to escape," the man continued, "or we'll have to go through the trouble of capturing those who do and torture them a bit." The man took a look at Fyss, who's eyes were still on me. The man made a weird face and followed his gaze to me. He whispered something to Fyss, who laughed and shook his head. They had a short internal conversation, then Fyss nodded towards me, mentioning me in their conversation. My heart skipped a beat. The man looked at me with curious eyes. What was going on?

"That is all," the man said. He smiled curiously at me, and they all walked out, leaving the three men they had earlier to keep guard inside the room. I guessed that there were probably several guards outside too.

After only a short while, another man came inside. This man puts you in mind of an unavoidable bloodhound. He has slitted brown eyes that are like two bronze coins. His thick, curly, black hair is worn in a style that reminds you of a crazy bush. He is tall, enormously tall, and has a wide-chested build. His skin is mildly dark. He has long-fingered hands. His wardrobe is severe and plain, with a completely grey color scheme. A dagger and a handgun hung on either side of his black leather belt. After he came in, he looked back and forth, examining the room, and burped. He burped. Then I realized he must have been drunk.

He swayed back and forth a little as he walked, slightly, towards—Jenny. His eyes were locked on her, though blinking half frantically. Soon, he got close enough to be within arm's reach of her.

"What've we got ourselves here…. Hmm?" he murmured. The room was quiet, all eyes on her.

I was close enough to hear her suck in her breath and cough when she could smell his.

He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek.

"You're a cute one aren't you?" he moved some of her hair out of her face to take a closer look at her blue eyes.

Jenny pushed her face away as if insulted.

"So what're you made of, hot stuff?" he murmured into her ear.

Jenny began to whimper.

"What can you bring the family, huh? Are you any good? Any better than all the other ones?" he began to growl. "I'm sick of it, so, so sick of it. It makes me sick. You petty woman." He spit in her face.

Jenny whimpered again and shied her face away.

The man began to slide the dagger out of his slit, when the door burst open, and the same dragon-like man from before appeared.

"Dahe!" he exclaimed.

"Hold on, hold on, calm down," the drunken man—Dahe—said. "I'm just having some fun, don't ruin it now, Heyst."

Heyst, frantically but calmly, pulled out a gun-like figure and shot at Dahe. But what he shot was not a bullet, but a needle. And quickly, Dahe fell to the ground, sound asleep.

"Get him out of here," Heyst commanded. The men keeping guard lifted him up and left as Heyst stood in the room.

After the door closed, Heyst said not a word. He stood so still he could have been a statue figure. He stared at the ground, hard. Then his eyes seemed to begin to wander. He quickly looked over each hostage, his eyes a little longer on Jenny. His eyes furrowed a bit after more carefully examining her. Then he moved on. When his eyes reached me, he was almost surprised that I was looking at him. No one else was, but the incident was quite peculiar, so I was curious. I was curious at this man, who says not a word and stands so still he looked as if he could break if he were to be knocked over.

He blinked twice. He cocked his head over slightly to his right, and blinked again. Suddenly, the door opened. It was Fyss. His eyes met mine as he let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, phew, thought Dahe, uh, ye' kno'," he said looking at Heyst.

Heyst's gaze never left mine, and Fyss quickly caught onto that. Then Fyss whispered something into Heyst's ear. Heyst looked curiously at me and walked out the door without a word.

Fyss stood there, his hands on his hips, his gaze shifting from the door to me, as if confused. Then he licked his lips and walked his way over to me. He bent over and looked at me carefully.

"Ye' 'kay?" he asked me in a whisper so quiet that nobody could hear.

I blinked a few times, confused. I looked at him, and absorbed his expression once more. It was honestly concerned, to a level of honesty that left me almost unable to answer.

"Um, yeah," I answered quickly. Then my stomach rumbled. I realized I was starving then. The party was a night party, and who knew how long we had been in that truck? What time was it? Was it day outside or not?

His eyes went to my stomach, then to his golden watch strapped perfectly around his right arm.

"Three, two…" he began.

Suddenly, the door behind us opened, making me gasp a little from the tension. I caught Lorayne's eye, panicked, as I looked around to see if anyone had caught what Fyss said. Then, through the door, a serving-like figure wheeled in a cart with two shelves—the one on top was bread, the one below was a bottle of water. The servant rolled the cart around slowly and began passing out the bottles and bread.

"See ye' 'round," said Fyss as he got up and walked towards the door. His stride was casual, and his walk looked thoughtful. His head looked halfway up towards the ceiling, as if something were on his mind.

Eventually, the bread and water was given to me. The bread was no ordinary bread. It was half a stick of French bread, golden crusted, and with parmesan, chili, and garlic sprinkled on top. And the water wasn't even tap water. It came in a nice bottle, unopened. This place must have been professional, judging from the quality of the food that is being given to its hostages.

Like many of the other prisoners, I carefully slid up towards the foot which was placed at my feet and carefully grabbed it, afraid to slip and have it roll further away from me. I had already watched that happen to several others who were forced to suffer without it whatever it was that they had lost. After the surprisingly delicious meal, another cart and another servant came in to clear up the trash and sweep the ground. Then, for a long, long while, we sat there, all of us, quietly, with nothing disturbing us.

Then suddenly, someone spoke.

"Hey," said a guy I knew from school. His name was Luke, medium height and build, dark blond hair, brown eyes, on the basketball team, and a silence breaking voice. "Does anyone think… that maybe, we can get out of here?"

"Heh," I heard another guy from school laugh. His name was Tom. Tom, of frail thin and super height, looked like a toothpick. Tom of dark brown hair and light brown eyes, was the one in Math Club. But although his background, stereotypically, proved otherwise, his voice was deep and embellishing. "Good luck even trying to find a way out of these cuffs. They're like iron."

"Only to you," remarked Luke. He did have the reputation of being a jerk.

"Hey! You think you're so cool with all your smart talk, but all you really are is some—"

"Hey! Hey! Cut it out guys!" called Venona, the short, thin, blond from Science class. Her voice was high pitched and irritating. "It's bad enough we're in this situation at all. Let's not fight."

"Yeah," added Dillon, the captain of the basketball team who's tall and masculine in every way. He had dark, pitch black short hair, and a big mouth. "Is it just me, or is this situation really weird?" he asked.

"It is!" exclaimed the half intelligent brunette from history class, Ashley. Her bouncy curls jumped when she moved her head to talk. "The more I think about this, the less sense it makes," she proclaimed, "why are we being held here anyways?"

"Um, to be locked up?" Luke answered mockingly.

Ashley rolled her eyes.

"But really," said Dillon, "why are we being locked up here? I mean, I know they're keeping us hostages until they know the police are off their tracks, but it's almost as if... they're ready to do something to us."

"At least you didn't have anything done to you yet."

We all looked at the voice, and it came from Jenny.

"Hey, nothing happened to you," Ashley threw at her.

Outraged, Jenny dropped her jaw and said, "Well you weren't the one who was even in the situation!"

"Not my fault you're a slut," Ashley retorted.

"Hey! Girls, cut it out," said Mark, a short dark skinned guy from English. He was terribly buff and on the football team.

"Maybe they're keeping, like, research records or something, and they want us to fight with each other. You know, the human reaction thing," said Venona. Her high pitched voice almost made her sound like she was squealing.

"Hey," said Lorayne suddenly, "maybe we should just keep it on the low for now. They might just let us go in the end anyways."

"Yeah," added Connor, "or else they might actually do something to us."

I felt ashamed almost to be associated with him in any way at all. Even in the most crucial times that could even by chance possibly exist, he thinks of only himself, and not even a look towards me.

Then suddenly, the door opened again, and everyone shut up. It was one of the men from the hotel earlier. He had shoulder-length, braids hanging from his head. He had narrow, cherry red eyes and a pointy nose that gave me the impression of a mysterious raven. His form was a bit feminine, despite his pure and visible muscle that displayed itself through his tight white shirt. He looked a bit different from the others, but not too different, just unique, like they all were from each other.

The man looked around.

His eyes only touched the females against my wall. I hoped that the incident that had once occurred earlier would not be repeated. Jenny's eyes gave off a look of terrible anxiety. But his gaze skipped her. Then they landed on me. He blinked twice, and moved on. He stuck out his lips, and took a seat, criss crossed on the ground, right in the middle of the room facing the wall that I and all the women were against.

He fully absorbed each and every one of us, it seemed, for a minute or so on each woman. He seemed to be thinking, to himself no doubt, but about what I couldn't understand. Was he judging us for a particular reason, or for fun, because things could obviously get out of hand around this place.

After what seemed like an hour, the door opened once more. It was Heyst, the statue guy.

The man on the ground did not turn around, his back towards the door. He continued to speculate and examine each and every one of us.

"Salo," Heyst said in a soft but commanding voice.

The man on the ground, Salo, said not a word. He intensely scrutinized each and every one of us.

"We won't wait for you," said Heyst.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Salo replied waving a hand to shoo him off. Salo's voice was almost as calm as Heyst's, but more apathetic.

Heyst waited for just a moment longer, then turned around and left.

For the remaining time, Salo sat on the ground observing us. Then, after about an hour had passed, he stood up and closely examined each and every one of us. He started with Ashley, on the left end. He touched her hair, and tried to look into her eyes. But she avoided him, forcing him to brutally bring her to face him by her chin. Her face was red with fear and sweat beaded down her forehead. He looked at her ruffled blue and green blouse and black tights.

"What is your name?" Salo asked her.

Ashley clenched her teeth and refused to respond.

"How old are you?" Salo asked.

No answer.

"Why are you not answering me?"

No answer.

"Shall I kill you?"

She sucked in her breath.

Salo pulled out a foot long blade and pressed it against the base of her neck. Ashley began to pant.

"Let's try this again," Salo said calmly. "What is your name?"

"A-Ashley," she sputtered out.

"And how old are you?"

"F-F-Fifteen."

"Very good," said Salo, and he let the blade drop. He tucked the blade back into its sheath covered by his black blazer.

Then he moved onto Venona. He examined her in the exact same way in which he had addressed Ashley.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"What is your name?"

"Venona."

"Very interesting name, Venona."

"Thank you."

"Your voice… is something wrong with it?" he was talking about her high pitched nasal voice. It had been like that since the first day in kindergarten. She had once been my friend, until I discovered the true side to her, the side that was prideful and arrogant. Every since that night in eighth grade, I avoided her.

"No! How rude!"

Salo chuckled.

"Hey, hey, calm down. It was a joke."

He moved on to Jenny.

"Well, you're pretty," he began.

"Thank you," Jenny quickly replied, suddenly encouraged.

"Wait, wait. Let me finish," Salo continued. "You're pretty, but you're also pretty fake." Salo laughed at his own joke, although he meant what he said.

Stunned, Jenny's only reaction was a dropped jaw and several blinks.

"I had been watching you, and every movement that you've executed was towards your personal benefit. And the benefit that you believed to be true wasn't a benefit at all. When you should really be worrying about your life, the arrangement of your hair is more important."

"I hadn't touched my hair at all!"

"Exactly. You never touch it, but you are constantly looking at it to make sure it looks good.You leave it tangled to display a damsel in distress, so that after, if by chance, you make it out of here, you'll have a new reputation. Whether this reputation is the one that you want or need I do not know, but it is fake."

His words left her speechless. Her jaw opened even more as she panicked and tried to figure out what to say.

"Looks like my words were so true that you didn't even have the guts to deny it. Dumb slut."

"Oh!" Jenny exclaimed.

"Hey!" exclaimed Tanner, who had been quiet this whole time. "Leave her alone!"

Salo ignored him, and said, "It's those like you who deserve nothing and everything just to feel the pain of it all."

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" yelled Tanner.

Salo, without even a look, lifted his blade out of its sheath and flung it in Tanner's direction. The blade landed right in the middle of Tanner's forehead. Red, thick blood oozed down from the stab, and several hostages gasped in horror. Tanner's eyes rolled backwards, revealing his eye whites, blood dripping slowly out of his mouth. A henchman came over and brought his body to disposal. Jenny's face was white with shock, horror, and anxiety.

Salo emitted a short laughter.

"Nobody's seen a murder?" he asked. "Ain't so bad."

The room was dead silent. Every one of his wishes had become our command. Then he moved on to Emma, a very whiny girl who was large and of average complexion. She'd always been shy and hidden in the corner, only exerting herself at random moments. I knew her to be the type who tried to be someone, but never really ever got there.

But Salo didn't say a word. He just looked at her, at her simple gray t-shirt, her out-of-style denim, and her plain white tennis shoes. He blinked twice. Her cuffs were almost too small for her chubby wrists. She squeezed her eyes closed and let the out of control hair fall onto her face. Salo leaned in closer. He grimaced, then frowned, and wove a hand at the two men by the door.

"Take her out. She doesn't need to be here at all," Salo commanded. Then the men unlocked her, and took her out.

"Where are you taking her?" I asked. I was next, and afraid, of this crazy man.

He cocked his head sideways and looked at me curiously.

"I'm going to kill her," he said.

I gasped and blinked a few times. Calming myself down, I said as steadily as I could, "please don't."

"Quite the self control there," Salo said simply, "but she will die. And nobody can save her. It is her fate, to be captured by a mob."

"But it was not her fate to die," I answered him.

"Why not?" asked Salo as he leaned forwards, close enough so that could smell his floral cologne. The smell stung my nose, but was drawing at the same time. "She is ugly, she is fat, and from the looks of it, in her little empty bubble at the top of her little skull, all she's managed to understand about the world was herself. Now tell me why such a person should be kept alive. She were better off dead anyways," he whispered into my ear so that no one else could hear.

"Then what about Jenny?" I whispered back, copying his half urgent half arrogant tone of voice. "She's so much emptier of a bubble, except she tries to ruin herself instead of save herself. Why don't you take her instead?"

"Do you really hate the girl that much? Are you in love with the ugly fat one? If that's the case, then why don't you go die with her?"

Confronted, I grimaced and looked away.

"I want to have a little fun with that one," Salo nodded towards Jenny. "And she could be of quite the use to us. We men don't find it frequent the opportunity to—"

"Enough!" I hissed at him, "take me in Emma's place."

His face became surprised, terribly, terribly surprised. Then he asked, "Who's Emma? The fat one?"

I nodded diligently.

"Well!" he said, "I didn't know you were actually in love with a fat and ugly girl."

"I am not!" I exclaimed. The room could hear our conversation now.

"Then why do you wish to take her place? I'm practically doing that thing a favor by removing her from this world!"

"She can change! There's still so much time left! And I won't let you end that time too soon!"

"Then what about your time?"

I paused, and looked at Connor. His whimpering eyes cast a fearful look towards me. I looked at Lorayne, who only looked away. She was never the type to meddle with anyone's business.

"Just take me. Kill me in her place, damn it."

A sly smile grew on Salo's face, as he waved another hand towards the men at the door. The thudding boots of their walking suddenly pounded in my ear. I heard every footstep with intense detail. Closer they got, meaning the closer to my death I walked. It was a path I chose with my own footsteps, and I understood it. I knew, that although Emma couldn't understand much of the world, neither could any of us all. There was time, and in time she could change. But I knew that I had not much to lose. My parents were divorced, my father died in a car accident shortly after. My mother, who I live with, only really had the time to understand half of me. She'd remarried, and had two kids whom she loved more than she might ever love me. My boyfriend, Connor, was a selfish loser who only cared about himself. Lorayne, my best friend, wouldn't dare come save me out of fear of her own safety. I had nothing, and would lose nothing. But I was afraid.

Thanks for reading :) Bear with me on the names, I'm not sure why I chose them initially, but they grew on me, so I guess you could say I'm too attached to change them. Keep reading and enjoy!