Ellie Morgan

Justin Timberlake

Harold & Sarah Timberlake

Christy Timberlake

Brady Timberlake

Maggie Timberlake

Ed Timberlake

Trace Ayala

Curtis Fletcher

There are certain things in life that you think will never happen to you. Horrendous tragedies like being struck by lightning or mauled by a bear only happen to people in far away places, right?    

These things never happen close enough to home to even seem real. Sure, movies and television can paint a pretty vivid picture of just how traumatizing being buried alive would actually be, but your mind still can't quite comprehend it.    

Unless it happens to you or someone you know, these events seem like impossibilities. Horror stories told simply to keep you on guard.    

I thought the same exact way.    

That changed the day I was kidnapped.

"Kim... I don't care if they're getting the queen of fucking England, they're not canceling on us. Mike's had that slot for three months and we're not giving it up. Call them back and deal with this, cause believe me... you don't want me to do it." I toss my phone into my bag as I enter the diner, and can't help but roll my eyes when I run into a man, much taller than myself.    

"Sorry." I mutter as I scan the building, immediately spotting my best friend. The taller man grunts at me and exits the restaurant.     

Everyday for the last five years, without fail, we've met at this same diner, sat at the same table and even ordered the same meal.    

What can I say? We're like two little old ladies and very set in our ways. Atleast when it comes to food, anyway.     

"You know, you're probably going to give yourself an aneurysm one day."      

"Yeah well... we can cross that bridge when we come to it."      

"Point taken." Curtis chuckles and shakes his head. "So... what's new?"    

"Same shit, different day." I mutter irritably as I browse my menu, knowing damn well that I'm going to order the same thing I order every day.     

Caesar salad and a slice of garlic bread.     

"We've got this huge appearance lined up for a client... the guy I told you about, with the crime novel that just came out. Anyway... we've had him booked for Letterman for three months. Today, they call and want to re-schedule because they can get some hot shit actor and that air head Kim was going to let them."    

"Is the world really going to implode if this guy doesn't do Letterman this week?"    

"It just might. So, shut your trap." I giggle and roll my eyes.    

I think the oddest thing about my friendship with Curtis (which is completely platonic by the way, so don't go getting ideas in your twisted little head) is that while we're here having lunch, we sit and talk like we haven't seen each other for months. We've always shared every single detail of our lives with each other.    

It sounds weird, but sometimes it almost feels like we're the same person. Ya know... minus that whole opposite gender thing.     

Our lunch continues the same way it does everyday... we bitch about work, talk about our family and friends, plans for the weekend (he has a date, I'll be at home, going over manuscripts.)    

"Alright, so... I'll see you Monday." He grins as we step out into the heat.    

Let it be known that New York in the summer is not pleasant.    

"Yeah... Let me know how the date goes." I smirk as he rolls his eyes.    

Curtis may be a lot of things, but a romantic isn't one of them. The fact that he's even classifying his weekend plans as an actual date is kind of mind boggling.    

Not that I've got much room to talk. I haven't been on a date in god knows how long. But, I have my reasons and they're all perfectly understandable, if you ask me. Time, interest, and then of course, there's the fact that 90 percent of the male population are idiots.     

"Yeah El, I'll spill all the details while we eat ice cream, braid each other's hair and watch chick flicks." He snorts. "Take it easy." He gives me a small wave before he turns to head down the street, toward his office.    

I head in the opposite direction, my mind running over the millions of things I'll have to do when I get back to work.     

If there is a god, Kim will have straightened out the Letterman mess, but I seriously doubt it. I can almost guarantee that she didn't even bother to call them back. Just goes to show that if you want something done, you've gotta do it yourself.    

I turn the corner and before I can make a single sound, I'm being dragged into the dark space between two very large buildings. A thick piece of fabric covers my eyes and is knotted at the back of my head while a hand covers my mouth.    

Even if I could, I think I'm entirely too shocked and terrified to scream. Sure, I've read the countless horror stories about muggings and murders on these streets, but never in a million years could I have dreamed that I'd become one of those statistics.    

My feet are lifted off the ground and I struggle against my attacker with as much force as I can manage.    

As crazy as it sounds, you've gotta give the guy some credit. If for some reason I was able to escape, I'd never be able to pick him out of a line up. I haven't seen his face or even heard his voice.    

And something tells me I probably never will.     

I'm being carried, that much I'm sure of. I just haven't got the slightest fucking clue to where, or by who.     

A door creaks open and I'm gently placed into a small, confined area that I'm assuming is the backseat of a car.     

Shit.. this is definitely not a good sign. If this crazy fuck gets me across the state line, or worse... into Canada... there's no hope for me.    

 Hell, they'll probably find this car on the side of the road on some remote highway, and when they open the trunk, they'll find my lifeless, mutilated body.    

I'm sure that'll be a real barrel of monkey's for everyone involved.     

The really odd thing is, even with my mouth uncovered, I don't seem to have the ability to scream. I'm trying like hell, but there's just no sound.     

Another door opens and shuts quickly, the engine roars to life a second later, followed by screeching tires.     

"Look, crazy man, I don't know who you are, or why the fuck you're doing this. And my best friend may be tall and scrawny, but he's a scrappy bastard and he's so gonna kick your ass when I manage to get out of here. Then of course, you'll end up in jail, where I'm sure a very large man, ironically named Tiny will have all kinds of fun with you. So... ya know... feel free to let me go, and I swear, I won't press charges of any kind. We can both just go back to our normal lives."    

"Shut up and drink this." His smooth voice seems to echo throughout the car and even though I should be scared shitless, I can't help but laugh.    

Shut up and drink this? Is this jackass for real?    

"Umm... no. I learned not to take candy from strangers when I was about two. Nice try though."    

You know what's funny? All my life, I've heard how my smart ass mouth would get me into trouble some day. I never really believed that until now, because I'm almost certain this guy will kill me, just to shut me the hell up.     

"Don't make me force you. Just do it."    

Alright... common sense tells me not to drink it. But, self preservation tells me it may be a good idea. But really, what's the point? I'm probably going to die anyway.    

I raise my hand and a Styrofoam cup is placed into it. I lift the cup to my mouth and take a large swig, wincing as it burns my throat.     

"What the fuck is this? Straight vodka?"    

I'm beginning to think my brain has shut off all logical reasoning. Why am I drinking this shit? Why am I listening to this nutjob? He hasn't made any threats or caused me any physical pain yet.     

"Drink it and keep your mouth shut. Don't make me hurt you."    

Alrighty then... there's the threat. As much as I hate to admit it, listening just might save my life.    

I gulp down the remaining contents of the cup and it's a matter of minutes before my mind goes fuzzy and my eyes become heavy.     

Before I can even count to ten, everything goes black.  

My eyes open slowly and it takes all of two seconds to realize that they're still covered and there's a gag in my mouth. I try to move my hands, in the hopes that I can get this damn thing off and figure out where the hell I am.     

Unfortunately, my captor was smart enough to tie my hands behind my back.    

It's not cold, but it's not particularly warm either, and I'm almost certain I'm not still in a moving vehicle. I've lost two of my main senses and this is so not looking good for me.    

I inhale deeply and the scent of vanilla fills my nose. Gross. I don't know why, but it's one of those smells that's always turned my stomach. It's just... too sweet. And gives no indication of where the fuck I am.     

Wherever I am, it's quiet. Dead silent, to be exact. You could hear a pin drop in here.     

Part of the problem could also be the fact that I'm still under the influence of whatever this psycho drugged me with. My memories of the attack are pretty fuzzy and I feel a little loopy.     

As far as I can tell, I'm still dressed in my work clothes, I don't feel any pain and don't seem to be bleeding. All good signs, right?    

Someone has to be looking for me. I mean... granted, I don't have any concept of time at the moment, but somebody, somewhere, has to be wondering where I am. I'd like to think my co-workers would be slightly concerned if I didn't return from lunch, but with them, there's really no telling. They aren't the brightest crayons in the box, if you catch my drift.    

Suddenly, everything seems to happen at once. A door opens and shuts, a man clears his throat and there's a squeaking sound directly in front me, like someone sitting down on an old, rickety couch.    

"If you promise not to scream, I'll take the gag and blindfold off."    

I nod, noticing just how heavy my head feels. Warm hands slide the gag down around my throat and my first reaction is to scream as loudly as humanly possible, but I value my life just a tad too much for that. The blindfold is removed soon after and I blink rapidly, my eyes trying to adjust to the bright lights.     

Once my vision clears, my eyes land on the man sitting across from me.    

Holy fucking shit.    

"Look... if this is payback for bumping into you at the diner... I said I was sorry. It was an accident dude. Honestly. People run into each other all the time, no need to get all-"    

"You really think I'm crazy enough to kidnap you because you ran into me?"    

"In a word... yes. Kidnapping itself, implies insanity."    

"Well, I'm not crazy." He sighs sadly.    

Alright... this has to be some elaborate joke. I'll bet Curtis set this whole thing up and he's going to jump out from behind some door and yell "boo" or something equally as cheesy.     

I will say this though, the guy doesn't look like your typical psychopath. He's dressed nicely, clean cut, mildly attractive.     

But, I guess those are the types you have to watch out for... the unsuspecting ones. The crazy people who don't look like crazy people.     

"You're not crazy... yet, you've bound, gagged and drugged me. There's something in there that doesn't quite add up to you not being a fucking nutcase."    

I really haven't got the slightest clue how I'm staying so calm, how I'm rationally discussing all of this with him. It's gotta be the drugs.     

"Alright... just calm down, and hear me out... ok?"    

"Calm down? CALM DOWN? I'm fucking tied up like some god damn animal, and you want me to CALM THE FUCK DOWN?"    

"Fine... freak out... just listen, can you atleast do that?"    

"No! I want to know who the hell you are... where am I? Why are you doing this? Why-"    

"Jesus woman!" He shouts angrily and I can't help but jump as he lunges toward me. "Don't you ever shut the fuck up?"    

The blow I was expecting doesn't come. Instead, he pulls the make-shift gag back around my mouth, then eases back into his seat.    

Well... this is just fantastic.    

"This is going to sound real fucked up... I know that, ok? I know I should probably be locked away in a padded cell somewhere, but I swear... I'm not crazy."    

I shake my head in disagreement and he simply rolls his eyes.     

I mean, c'mon man... how can you claim to be of sound mind, when you've got some random girl tied up on your floor? Even the craziest of crazies wouldn't dispute their sanity at this point.     

"I come from a really big family. Like, unreasonably huge. And they all think their shit don't stink. They're all married, or engaged, with perfect little houses and perfect little kids. Being a Timberlake, it's like... a rule of thumb that you grow up, get married to someone as perfect as you think you are, then you pop out a bunch of wonderful little shitheads, and live happily ever after."    

Timberlake.    

Timberlake?    

I know that name. I don't know how... but I know it.    

"I'm... well... I'm the exception, or the failure... depending on who you ask. 26, not married, or even remotely close to it, no desire to have children... there's gotta be something wrong with me, right?"    

Oh Jesus fucking Christ....he's kidnapped me to make me his... his wife? Am I in the god damn twilight zone?    

And why the hell hasn't Curtis popped up somewhere yet? The longer it takes him to appear, the more I start to believe that this is actually happening.     

"I think I'm perfectly fine, ya know? I mean really... is there some law that says you have to be married before 30? My dickhead brother seems to think so. But, he also thinks I'm gay, so fuck him."    

Yeah... he's not sounding crazy at all, is he?    

I'm sure he thinks his little monologue is supposed to make him look like the poster child for the sane, but he's kind of just screwing himself. If I hadn't thought he was a whack job before, I sure as hell would now.    

"Anyway... my sister is getting married in three days. In three days, I'll become the only member of my family over the age of 20 who isn't married, and believe me... when I go home alone, I'm gonna get ten tons of shit for it. That's where you come in."    

Maybe I'm the crazy one. Because I am so not seeing the logic in any of this.    

Your family shits on you because you're not married, so you commit a felony? Right... makes perfect sense. So silly of me to not understand.     

"I'm taking you the wedding. You'll pretend to be my girlfriend, and that'll keep them off my back for a few days. I mean really... this is supposed to be my sister's big day...so as long I keep everybody happy... it'll stay that way."    

Oh hell no.    

Hell fucking no.    

I shake my head furiously and he sighs before leaning over to remove the gag.    

"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?" I scream. "Ask a woman out for Christ sake! Get a hooker! Something... anything! Anything but this!"    

"Yeah right... "hey, I don't know you, but I need a date for my sister's wedding?" Any normal chick would run screaming in the other direction after that. And there's no way in hell I'm taking a hooker to my sister's wedding. Just... please? I'm fucking desperate here, and I swear... I'm a good guy. I just... please?"    

"No. No fucking way. Absolutely not."    

"Honestly Ellie... what choice do you have? You're kind of at my mercy here."    

How... how the hell does he know my name?    

"I went through your bag. Figured I should probably know who I kidnapped." He chuckles nervously and shakes his head.     

"You're... you're fucking certifiable. I don't think they make strait jackets tight enough for people like you! There is no way in hell I'm doing this, so you can just let me go right now."    

"Afraid not. I do that, you'll go straight the police. And if I'm gonna go to jail... I'm getting something out of it first."    

"Alright whacko. You may get me to this wedding... but I'm gonna tell everybody exactly what you did, then they're all gonna know that you're a fucking psycho. You think you got a bunch of shit for being single? Something tells me kidnapping ain't gonna go over so well with the family."    

"Well, let's think about it this way... they know and trust me. They don't know you at all... I'm kinda thinking they'll believe me before they believe you." He shrugs and leans over again, putting the gag firmly back in place.    

Seriously?    

How the hell is this my life? 

This asshole is smart, I'll give him that much.     

I have yet to learn his first name. I mean, sure... I know the last name, but without the first, it won't do me a damn bit of good. Of course, if I could remember why that last name sounds so familiar, it might help my case a bit, but so far, I've got nothing.     

I also still have no idea where I am. He made damn sure that I wasn't going anywhere last night by keeping my blindfold on and leaving my hands and feet bound.    

And let me tell you, it ain't easy to sleep when you're tied up like that.    

When we set out on our little journey this morning, he made sure to keep me blinded until we reached the interstate, so I still haven't got a clue where I was kept overnight.     

We're still in New York, that much I'm sure of. And I can almost guarantee that someone has to be looking for me by now. If I could just get to my phone and send out one lousy text message, I could put a stop to all of this here and now. But, the crazy man is holding my purse hostage as well.    

I still can't wrap my head around any of this. I mean, out of the millions of women in New York City, why me? Is it because I'm short and looked like I wouldn't put up much of a fight? Because I was the first woman he found alone and defenseless?    

I'd be willing to bet that he had no idea what he was getting himself into when he picked me though.  If he knew just how mouthy and irritating I can be, he'd have waited for the next available target.    

So, my goal is to be as loud, obnoxious and annoying as humanly possible, and hope like hell that he'll get fed up and let me go.     

"So... when you're arrested, are you going to fight the charges, or just plead guilty? I hear if you fess up from the get go, the courts show some leniency."    

"I still have the gag, ya know."    

"True. But if you put it back on, I'll spend the rest of this trip kicking your seat."    

"You're tiny. I bet you'd fit in the trunk."    

"That wouldn't really help this whole 'I'm not crazy' defense you've got going. Oh! There you go! In court, you can plead not guilty by reason of insanity! That way, they can lock you away in a padded room where you belong!"    

"How do you still have vocal chords? Because I am honestly amazed that someone hasn't ripped them out yet."    

"There's a very simple way to shut me up. Pull over, untie me, and let me go. I'm sure you can pick up another girl somewhere down the road. Hell, you might even find one nutty enough to go along with this ridiculous shit."    

"Doubtful." He murmurs, keeping his eyes focused on the road.    

He's staying fairly calm, but I know I'm getting under his skin. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before he's had enough and dumps me on the side of the road somewhere.    

Yep... any minute now.    

But, before I'm set free, I've gotta know one thing....    

"Why me?"    

"Why you what?"    

"Why me? Why not some other girl?"    

He sighs and shifts awkwardly in his seat. "Right before I ran into you, I'd just gotten off the phone with my mother, and I kinda lost it... had a breakdown of some sort, apparently. You were the first person I saw, and it just.. clicked, I guess."    

Oh that's wonderful. He sees me and his first thought is "gee, I think I'd like to kidnap her."    

I sincerely hope I don't have that effect on anyone else.     

We drive in silence for nearly an hour, before another thought comes to mind. I still don't know his first name.     

"So... you went through my bag, right?"    

"Yep."    

"Alright... so practically my entire life is in that thing, which means... you probably know more about me than you should. And I know nothing about you... I don't even know your name. And in my book, that's not fair."    

"I think that's typically the way this works. Crazed kidnapper knows everything about the victim. And, victim is left in the dark."    

"Ah... so now you admit that you are crazy. Way to contradict yourself sir."    

He heaves an irritated sigh and I can see him roll his eyes in the rearview mirror. "My name is Justin... I'm 26. I have an older brother, who is a huge fucking douche, an older sister, and a younger sister. I'm pretty sure my grandfather has Alzheimer's and my parents are...  amazing and annoying at the same time. I work for a graphic design company in the city.... that's about it."    

To his credit, he sounds like he'd be a fairly normal guy, but that is so obviously not the case here.     

Suddenly, Justin pulls the car onto the shoulder and climbs out.    

Oh. My. God. This is it! I'm being set free! Hallelujah!    

I begin to fidget in my seat as he walks around to the back passenger side of the car. I'm sure I look like the worlds biggest idiot, but I can barely contain my excitement. I knew the obnoxious angle was the key.    

He opens the door quickly and I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Honestly, I'm so grateful just to be out of this mess, I may not even press charges. I just hope I can figure out where the hell I am, so I can call and have someone come get my stranded ass.    

He leans over me and instead of pulling me out of the car, he ties the bandana around my eyes once again.    

No...no... no, god damnit!    

This isn't what's supposed to happen! He's should be letting me go, so I can get back home and get back to work!    

Oh jesus... work.    

With all of this nonsense, I completely forgot about work. I don't even want to think about the hell that has surely broken loose in my absence. I'll bet that damn Kim caved and let Letterman cancel on us.    

"Look... I get that you think your family drama is uber important, but I have a life and a job... please... I am begging you, just let me go. I swear, I won't even go to the cops."    

The only response I get is the slamming of the door.    

So, apparently acting like a shithead and begging weren't the proper ways to go. I don't know how, but I've gotta find a way out of this.

******************    

"What size do you wear?" The car comes to a halt and the engine is immediately shut off.     

I have no idea why that matters, but I'd like to think the answer is a tad obvious.    

"Small. Right." He chuckles softly. "Ok... sit tight and I'll be back."    

Yeah... like I can get out of here like this. Is this guy retarded?    

The driver side door opens and shuts and I'm left in total silence. I wonder if anyone would be able to hear me scream. As shitty as my luck's been over the last 24 hours, I seriously doubt it.    

The thing that really kills me is, he's doing all of this shit in broad daylight and it seems as though no one saw a damn thing. I don't get it. I really, really don't. I mean, usually there's some pretty stealth shit involved in something like this, but Justin's managed to fly completely under the radar.    

I guess when you get right down to it, it doesn't really matter. Because, as soon as we get wherever the hell we're going, I'm gonna out him. I'm telling every single person I see, what he's done. I guarantee they'll be horrified, disown him on the spot and call the police.    

That's exactly how this is going to end, and I can't wait to see him hauled away in cuffs, while I stand back and mock him.    

A long time passes before I hear the trunk squeak, followed by the sound of paper rustling around.         

What the hell is he doing now?    

It takes awhile, but the trunk finally slams shut and Justin climbs into the car.    

"I got you all the essentials.... clothes, shampoo, toothpaste, everything. Even got a suitcase to put it all in."    

"Well, yippy fucking skippy for you." I mutter angrily. "Sadly, I think you've just wasted a shit ton of money, because I won't be needing any of it. As soon as we get... wherever... I'm telling everyone just how fucking nuts you are and I'll be set free, while you go to jail."    

"Ellie... I'm going to ask you one last time... please, for the love of god, just do this. It's only a few days. Hell... I'll even pay you. Just... please?"    

The guy who refused to get a hooker wants to pay me? Isn't that ironic?    

But still... that doesn't change anything. He's crazy, and I will find a way out of this.    

"Well...when you put it like that..." I sigh loudly, doing my damnedest to look like I'm mulling it over. "No."

The car comes to a halt and rather than climb out, Justin turns in his seat, yanking the blindfold down around my neck.     

I am getting really tired of this complete darkness to bright ass light shit. I guess the annoyance shows on my face, because Justin smiles apologetically and let's out a long sigh.    

"We're here."    

"Good. You gonna untie me so I can go in and tell your parents they raised a felon?"

"Ellie... please? Look, I know this... this is really, really fucked up and weird, and I know you think I'm some kind of mental case, but I swear... I'm a good guy. And believe me, I tried to come up with a thousand different ways to do this... I almost didn't even come. I just... for once, I don't want to be the disappointment. Some part of you has to understand that."    

"Your family shits on you, because you don't live up to their insane expectations. I understand, and I sympathize." I nod slowly. "But let's face facts here buster... you committed a crime. You're holding me hostage. You belong in the nut house. I mean shit, did you ever think of just asking me?"    

"Oh yeah... I'm sure that would have gone over really well."    

"Hey... ya never know."    

"Alright fine... Ellie... will you be my date to my sister's wedding?" He shoots me the biggest set of puppy dog eyes I've ever seen, and all I can do is roll my eyes.    

"I'm not gonna say yes now, you idiot!"    

"Fine." He replies through gritted teeth before hopping out of the car and coming around to my side. He unties my hands and feet quickly, muttering to himself through the whole process.    

I stretch for the first time in almost two days and shake my hands wildly, forcing the blood back into my numb fingertips. I climb out of the car slowly and my breath catches in my throat as my eyes focus on the house in front of me.    

It's not some crazy, overly huge mansion or anything, but it doesn't look modest by any means. I don't know who the hell these people are, but there's definitely some money involved.    

The outside of the large brick house is simple enough. Several flower pots hang from the awning of the porch, while small hedges line the walkway and front of the house. A bench swing is on the left side of the porch, a table and chairs on the right.    

Justin unloads the car as I take in my surroundings. Obviously,  there isn't anywhere near by to run to, otherwise he'd never have untied me.    

The yard stretches into the woods lining the property and I'm beginning to realize just how trapped I am. Completely isolated from the outside world.    

But, it doesn't matter. All I have to do is get in that house and tell someone what happened. Justin doesn't seem to think so, but I know that atleast one person in that house will believe me.    

He grabs the bags with one hand, my elbow with the other and pulls me up the walkway. Damn...he's got a grip.    

We enter the house, and pure chaos is the only way to describe the scene before us. Countless people are running in every direction, shouting orders as they pass each other. People barking into their cell phones about flower arrangements and vegetable platters. Music playing loudly from somewhere else in the house, the television blaring at full volume. Children screaming.    

Jesus Christ... Justin totally doesn't need to go to the nut house, because he already fucking lives here. No wonder he didn't want to come here alone.    

Almost makes me feel bad that all this attention will be on him in a matter of seconds. But... he kind of deserves it.    

"Hey! Hey you! In the white...you! Hey! Hey! I'm being held against my will here! Somebody help me!" I scream at the top of my lungs, but not a single person seems to hear me.    

A man, who appears to be in his mid 70's shuffles into the entryway and rolls his eyes.    

"You ain't the only one kid. I been telling people that for years and I'm still stuck in this shit hole. Ya may as well just shut the hell up. Nobody's gonna listen to ya anyway."    

"Hey Gramps." Justin smiles and shakes his head. "Ellie... this is Grandpa Ed.... Grandpa... this is Ellie, my girlfriend."    

"I'm not his girlfriend!" I shout defiantly, attempting to free my arm from his death grip.    

"I tell people I'm not his grandfather, but you see where that's gotten me." He mutters before shuffling into the kitchen.    

Great. His grandfather's a fucking lunatic as well. Is there anyone in this house who has just an ounce of respect for the law?     

"Justin? Sweetheart... is that you?" A kind of raspy, feminine voice floats down the hallway and its owner appears a moment later.     

She smiles warmly at Justin and moves to hug him, but stops suddenly when her eyes land on me.    

You know how sometimes you can just look at a person and immediately know that they'll be one of the nicest people you've ever had the pleasure of meeting? That's exactly how I feel looking at this woman.    

She just looks so... motherly, I guess is the right word. Deep laugh lines around her dark blue eyes, thick blonde hair that manages to look a little out of control and put together all at the same time, and quite possibly the most caring smile I think I've ever seen.    

She looks vaguely familiar, but I'm having a really, really hard time placing her.    

"Oh my god... Justin! You didn't say you were bringing someone!" The smile on her face widens and for reasons beyond me, tears are quickly forming in her eyes.    

"Umm... yeah. Kind of last minute decision." He chuckles awkwardly and shrugs. "Mom... this is Ellie."        

"Oh.. it's so good to meet you!" She cries, the tears flowing freely as she flings her arms around my neck.    

I've officially lost my damn mind, because I don't have the heart to tell this woman what her psychopathic son has done to me.    

"I'm Sarah." She grins as she steps back. "I'm so glad you're here. Make yourself at home sweetheart. Now, I've gotta get a few things done, but make sure you two get something to eat and we'll chat later." She smiles again, wiping the tears from her eyes. "And it's so good to have you home." She kisses Justin on the cheek before disappearing down the hallway again.    

"That's my mom." He sighs and looks down at me. "Thanks for not saying anything to her. Say whatever you want to anybody else...just... not her Ellie, please."     

I can clearly see the pleading and desperation in his eyes, and god damnit... I'm starting to feel a little bad for the psycho.    

Not good. Not good at all.    

Fine... I won't expose him for what he is to his mother. I'll grant him that one small favor, but I'm not about to let him know that.    

"We'll see." I give him a noncommittal shrug and look around. "So, are we gonna stand in the fucking doorway all day or what?"    

"Language, Ellie. There are children present." Justin scolds as he grabs our bags and heads for the staircase.    

I remember seeing several children running around when we walked in, but I kinda figured they'd just... go away, at some point. Ya know... go home with their rightful owners, kinda thing.    

"So... they stay here? Like... all the time?"    

"One of em." He nods slowly as we make our way to the second floor. "My sister Maggie is six."    

Lovely. It's like I'm trapped in my own personal hell.    

I've been kidnapped by a lunatic with an even crazier grandfather and overly emotional mother. And, the icing on the cake is that there'll be a six year old running around. Maybe I would have been better off if he'd just killed me in the beginning.    

It's been my experience that children, are the devil.    

They're loud and obnoxious. They spill things. They're selfish. They get up entirely too early, and let's be honest.... they smell a little funny.    

The last damn thing I need added to this circus is a fucking kid. And believe me, everything is ten times worse when children are involved.     

We stop at the top of the stairs and I'm quickly starting to feel like I'm in some type of hotel.     

The outside of the house didn't quite do it justice, because it's fucking huge, and so obviously decorated by a professional. There isn't a scrap of clutter anywhere in sight, and the only evidence that this is actually a home are the various family photos adorning the walls.    

My eyes finally land on what appears to be a recent photo of the whole gang, and when I spot the short, older man, it all finally clicks.    

"Oh...my... god!" I practically squeal, not missing the confused look Justin shoots my way. "Your dad is the weatherman for channel five! Your mom is the news lady!"     

"Umm... yeah... so?"    

"I LOVE them!" I giggle stupidly.     

I can't help it... I'm a total night owl, and almost always catch the evening news. Sarah and Harold Timberlake are virtually the golden couple of channel five. The whole damn city adores them.    

They both know their shit, which speaks volumes for Harold, because honestly... how many weathermen ever get it right? They banter on air, and they're the most adorable old people I've ever seen.     

And... ok, I just got giddy at the thought of meeting newscasters. Maybe I'm the crazy one here.    

"You know what's funny..." I muse as I follow Justin down the hallway, which seems to have a thousand doors on each side. "Your mother is probably going to have to run a story on her son, the kidnapper. That'll be one for the record books."    

"Well, well, well... looks like little Justy has finally brought home a woman." A tall, incredibly good looking man comes around the corner, beer in hand and smirks at us. "So... is she in on the cover up?"    

Oh sweet Jesus... this is it! Finally, someone who knows exactly what the hell is going on here.    

"As a matter of fact, I most certainly am not. I was on my way back from lunch when he-"    

"It's alright... we all know the secret." He chuckles and takes a long swig from his bottle. "We're kind of just waiting for him to come out of the closet. But hey... take your time little bro, I hear that's quite a... traumatizing experience. Have fun kids." He laughs again, slapping the back of Justin's head as he passes and jogs down the steps.     

Justin curses under his breath and rolls his eyes in annoyance. "That would be my dickhead brother, Brady. He's an asshole... ignore him."    

"I like him." I smile wickedly as Justin finally stops in front of the last door on the right and opens it slowly, pulling me in behind him. "Ok... back up a second psycho... I am so not staying in the same room as you."    

"Tough nuts." He shrugs, dumping the bags into the middle of the floor. "If I let you stay in a separate room, one... it's gonna raise some questions... two, it gives you entirely too much time alone, and if you're alone... well... that's just not good for me. You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."    

"Fan-fucking-tastic." I mutter, yanking the bag he designated as mine off the floor and rummaging through it.     

Talk about shit luck, huh?    

First, I'm damn near ripped away from my life, only to find that my attacker has no desire to murder or maim me, like a normal kidnapper... oh no, he wants me to be his mock girlfriend. And then... when we finally reach civilization... I can't find a single person sane enough to listen to me!    

Thankfully, the knowledge that I haven't met the entire family yet, does give me some hope.     

Sadly, that hope is resting on a weatherman, a six year old and a bride to be.

It has to be here.    

I mean... there's no possible way he could have gotten rid of it without me knowing.    

Yes, I was blindfolded a majority of the last 48 hours, but still. You have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. If your cell phone is lost and gone forever... you just know. You can feel it. And that's exactly why I know it's still here somewhere.    

"What are you doing?" Justin sits up in his make-shift bed and looks around bleary eyed.    

I will say this much, for a total whack job, he is kind of cute. Especially now. Short curly hair matted and sticking up in a thousand different directions, dark blue eyes still half closed with sleep, pillow creases on his cheeks.    

Yes... he's a very pretty boy.    

But, I am so not the type to develop a case of Stockholm syndrome.    

"Looking for a toothbrush." I offer weakly. If I'm lucky, he's still comatose enough to buy it.    

"It's... it's..." He stops to yawn and shakes his head quickly. "Side pocket."    

"Got it." I smile as I turn to face him and jump nearly a foot in the air when the door bursts open and a blur of pink flies past me, straight into Justin's arms.    

"J!"    

Aw hell...eight am is way too early for this shit.    

"Jesus Maggie... chill." He laughs as the little girl settles into his lap before looking up at me curiously.    

"Who're you?" She cocks her head to the side and studies me intently.    

Ok, even I have to admit... she's adorable.    

I can name atleast a dozen women my age who would kill for her perfect platinum blonde hair, and she has those same big blue eyes that seem to be the most dominant physical trait of this family.    

As much as children creep me out, some of them can be pretty damn cute.    

"That's Ellie." Justin chuckles as his little sister continues to stare at me.    

As weird as it sounds, I almost feel like the kid's reading my mind or something. She's just so... focused on me. And it's just a tad unnerving.    

"J... I don't think she likes you very much."    

Holy shit... she is reading my mind!    

I'm telling you... this family is ten kinds of fucked up. Local celebrities, psychopaths, senile old men, and apparently mind reading juvenile's.     

I'm losing it. Completely and totally losing it.    

"Yeah well, most people aren't too fond of their kidnapper."    

"Damnit Ellie." Justin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly. "She's kidding, Maggie."    

The little girl ignores him completely and laughs. "He didn't kidnap you. You're not a kid. You were Ellie-napped."    

Well... she's a smart little shit, isn't she?

**************    

"You know... keeping me locked up in here all day probably isn't such a great idea. Looks a little odd, don't ya think?" Justin hums in response and I can't help but roll my eyes.    

This is punishment. I know it is.    

Once Maggie got the concept of kidnapping down, it was fairly obvious that Justin was scared shitless. Understandably so, I guess.     

Personally, I think brutal honesty is the only good trait children possess. They see or hear something, they repeat it. They don't sugarcoat it and they don't worry about hurting your feelings. They lay it all on the table, no questions asked.    

So, I can only assume that Justin's terrified the kid's gonna spill the beans to mom.     

Sure, I said I wouldn't tell her, but I'll be perfectly happy to sit back and watch the kid do the dirty work.    

I'm guessing that's why he's kept me locked in this god forsaken room all day. I was allowed to get a shower and change my clothes. Other than that, I've been sitting here staring at the fucking walls.     

"Even POW's get meals, ya know."    

He glances at the clock next to the bed and nods. "Mom's fixing lunch now. It should be ready in an hour or so."    

"Ok. So, here's a thought... if she's here playing Susie homemaker, who's doing the news?"    

"Not really sure." He shrugs, finally closing his book and looking over at me. "I think they rearrange stuff with the morning and afternoon crews. Her and dad both took the whole week off for the wedding." He continues to ramble about temporary news crews, and that's when it hits me.    

There's somewhat of a hole in his story.    

He claimed he kidnapped me because his family constantly rags on him for being single, yet I haven't heard even one person mention it. I mean, if they're so relationship conscious, shouldn't my presence be a bigger deal?    

In fact, the only strange thing I've noticed (with the exception of his douche bag brother and demented grandfather) was the waterworks display his mother put on yesterday.    

Like, I have no idea what the point was. Was she just that excited to see him? Had she been chopping onions?    

"Can I ask you something?"    

"Knock yourself out."    

"Why was your mother crying yesterday?"    

"Well..." He sighs and rolls his eyes. "I'm not even totally sure. But I think... see... she usually jumps my case about being alone. I honestly don't think I've ever brought a girl home. So, as far as my mom's concerned, you being here is right up there with me announcing that we're engaged or something."    

I'm in a fucking looney bin, I swear. And I need to get out of here in a big way. If I could just find my damn phone, I'd be set.    

Unless....    

"I have to pee." I announce suddenly, enjoying the annoyance on Justin's face.    

"Jesus woman... you're like a friggen cocker spaniel. You have to pee every five damn minutes. You haven't even had anything to drink!"    

"I have an over-active bladder." I shrug. "Sorry, guess I forgot to give you my medical history before you drugged me."    

"Whatever. If you're not back in five minutes, I'm coming to look for you." I wave him off before making my way out of the room.     

Clearly, the bathroom on the second floor isn't gonna do me any good. If this is going to work, I need something much closer to the ground.    

I jog down the stairs quietly, breathing a sigh of relief at the realization that there isn't a single person in sight. I practically tip toe to the bathroom and smile triumphantly when I spot the window above the toilet.    

I don't know why I didn't think about this before. It's almost too damn easy.    

I put the lid down and step onto it before unlocking the window and pushing it open. It's smaller than I expected, but I'm fairly certain I'll be able to wiggle my way through it. I hoist myself up, pulling my head and shoulders through the open window.    

I slide out easily until my torso is hanging completely out of the window, and suddenly, it's impossible to move. I push, I pull, I try to twist around on my side...nothing.    

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.    

I'm sure I look like fucking Winnie the Pooh, with his ass hanging out of the rabbit hole right now.    

I push again and grunt in frustration when I don't move an inch. Only me. This shit would only happen to me.    

Out of nowhere, the door creaks open and I hang my head as laughter rings throughout the small room.    

God damnit.    

"Umm... do I... uhh... do I even want to know?" A high, feminine voice that I don't recognize asks through her giggles.    

"Probably not. But, I can make it worth your while if you help me get out of here."    

"Oh really... how so?"

"Money... a car... I couldn't care less. Hell, I'll buy you a house if you want."    

"Well, I'm actually pretty good on those fronts." She chuckles softly. "So, how about you just explain?"    

"Alright, fine." I sigh and roll my eyes.    

This is just lovely. I'm being asked to explain this completely fucked up situation, while hanging out of a bathroom window. Something tells me Justin will probably end up looking like the sane one, but here goes nothing.    

"My name is Ellie Morgan. I'm a book publisher from the city. Two days ago, I was kidnapped, tied up and drugged. Then, I was brought here and told to pose as Justin's girlfriend. I have clients and friends, who I'm sure are freaking the fuck out right about now, and I really just want to get back to my life. I swear to Christ, if you help me get out of here, I won't press charges. I just want to go home."    

"See? Told ya she was funny."    

Son of a bitch!    

Guess my five minutes are up, huh?    

"Oh my god!" The woman laughs loudly and I can't help but roll my eyes. "Justin... she's hilarious! Dad's gonna love her!"    

"Tell me about it." He chuckles and if it was possible, I think I'd kick him in the balls right about now. "I'll take care of this. Mom said the caterer's on the phone for you."    

"Oh thank god! I've been waiting for them to call. You're sure you don't need any help?"    

"Nah. We're fine."    

The door shuts and I let out a small whimper of defeat. Freedom was so damn close!    

"So..." Justin begins, a hint of laughter in his voice. "This is an interesting little predicament you've gotten yourself into."    

"No shit, Sherlock." I mutter and shake my head. "You know... a proper kidnapper would be more angry than amused by this. I hear that whole attempting to escape thing is bad victim etiquette."    

"True. But, this is entirely too hilarious to be mad about. Number one... you've gotten yourself stuck in a fucking window. Two, my sister didn't buy the "I've been kidnapped" story, what so ever. Thirdly, you get all the way down here and instead of walking out the front door like a normal person would have done, you choose to climb out this little ass window? Even you have to see the humor in this."    

"No... not so much. So, get me the fuck out of here. Please."    

A minute or so passes before his arms circle my waist and with one quick tug, I'm back inside. Before he can catch himself, Justin falls backwards off of the toilet, landing on the floor with a hard thud.    

This would be an excellent time to kick him in the head and run like hell, but even I don't want the guy to be seriously injured.     

Ok yes, he's committed lord knows how many felonies, and more than violated my personal space, and probably fucked up everything I had going on at work, but all things considered, he's actually been... well... pretty nice to me.    

I still have all my limbs, he hasn't caused me physical pain in any way, and I'm being well taken care of. So yes... I can be sympathetic enough to not want him to bust his head open on the floor.     

I look down and can't help but laugh at the sight of him sprawled out on his back. "You alright?"    

"I wasn't the dipshit stuck in the window, so I'm fine." He hops to his feet quickly, blocking any chance I have of getting the hell out of here.     

I try to be nice and I'm repaid with sarcasm. How is that fair?    

Just as I was expecting, Justin hauls me back up to his lair of boredom and locks the door behind him.    

Honestly, I'm kind of looking forward to this big family lunch thing. For starters, I'm beginning to know exactly how those starving kids in Africa feel. And, I'll finally get the opportunity to have this whole nutty ass family together. Hopefully, I can convince them that one of their own is a fucking looney toon.     

A loud knock on the door is our signal that it's time to eat and worry quickly takes over Justin's features.    

I'm viewing this as a good thing. For me, anyway.    

If he's so worried, it's a pretty good bet that he knows atleast one person is this house is going to believe me, and do something about it.    

"Don't know about you, but I'm starving." I smirk and march toward the door.    

It takes a split second for Justin to grab my arm and jerk me back. "We're eating up here. I'll go get it."    

"Somehow I don't think your mother would be too happy about that. I mean-"

"Open the door dickhead! I did not drag my ass out of bed before three pm to come over here so you could spend all damn day in your room!"    

I haven't got a clue who's on the other side of that door, but the look of pure frustration on Justin's face tells me it's probably not good. He jerks the door open quickly and pulls a short, bewildered man inside.    

"What the hell man... are you not capable of a greeting anymore? And... holy shit... you brought a girl home?"    

"More or less." Justin frowns, rubbing his temples. "This is Ellie."    

"Not bad, my friend. Not bad at all." He looks me up and down slowly and my stomach turns.    

Yeah, real subtle jackass.     

"Look... Trace... I gotta tell you something man..."    

"Oh yeah... I'm good... thanks for asking." Trace rolls his eyes, a smirk planted firmly on his lips. "You could have fuckin called or something ya know... but oh no, I gotta hear from your mom that you're in town. What kinda shit is that? Further more..."    

"Trace... I kidnapped her." Justin shouts, his face turning a dark shade of red. "Like... grabbed her off the street, tied her up and brought her here, kidnapped her."    

Well holy shit... now that's interesting.     

Come to think of it, it's the first time he's actually fessed up to his crime. Which means, this little asshole probably isn't going to care. Hell, he looks skeezy enough to join in on Justin's fucked up idea of fun.    

"What. The. Fuck."    

"Just calm down man... I'm gonna straighten this out... I swear I am."    

"Have you completely lost your god damn mind?" Trace's voice goes up several octaves, his eyes growing wider by the second. "Your fucking brother is a cop man! And now you've made me an accomplice to this shit! I know we've gotten in trouble together, but I'm not going to fucking jail dude! No way man!"    

My ears perk up at the mention of Justin's brother. Funny... guess he forgot to mention that there's an officer of the law in the house.     

The two of them continue to bicker and I take their sudden distraction as my cue. I silently slide off of the bed and slip out of the room, completely unnoticed.

I'm having a really hard time believing just how easy this getting away thing is.    

I wish I'd have thought to walk out the front door, rather than try that damn window, but let's just chalk that up to one of my not so bright moments, shall we?    

Unfortunately though, I'm not quite out of the dark just yet. I can't leave this house until I get my hands on a phone.    

Let's face facts here, I have no fucking clue where I am, which is bad enough on it's own. Then, without a phone.... I may never get back home.    

I round the corner to what I thought was the kitchen, but is actually the den and jump when I find that curious little face staring up at me.    

"What're you doing?" She peers up at me, her hands on her hips.    

"I was... well... I was looking..."    

"You know it's lunchtime, right? You can sit by me." She grins and wraps her small hand around mine before dragging me down the hall.    

Why is it virtually impossible to lie to a child?    

It's almost like those big, innocent eyes are lie detectors or something. Hell... I bet you could solve a shit ton of crimes that way. Just have some cute kid perform the interrogation.     

Maggie leads me into the dining room where most of the family is already seated, minus Grandpa, Justin, and Trace.    

Brady winks at me from across the table as I sit down and I return his smile reluctantly. He may be an ass, but that ass is a cop, so I'll need his help most of all.    

"Is Justin coming down to eat?" Sarah asks as she passes the salad bowl around the table. She shoots Maggie a disapproving when the little girl makes a gagging sound and scrunches up her nose as a small amount of salad is set on the plate in front of her.    

"Oh... umm... I'm not sure. He... umm... he said he wasn't feeling well." I shrug.    

Ok... is it really gonna hurt anything if I eat first? I'm starving and the spread on this table looks amazing. So, that's the plan. Stuff my face, then tell on Justin and get the hell out of here. It'll work.    

"That damn kid never feels good." Grandpa mutters as he enters the room and eases into a chair. "He's a sissy, that one. Spent his whole season of T-ball chasin' butterflies and playin' in the fuckin dirt. Built a damn dirt castle, right there on the field! I couldn't leave the house for weeks after that!"    

"Dad... please." Harold finally speaks up, rubbing his forehead gently. "Ellie... I apologize." He smiles warmly at me. "I'm Harold, by the way."    

"Nice... to... meet... you." I manage to choke out through my full mouth.    

Yes... I know it's rude to talk with food in your mouth, but I'm a hostage. I'm not required to use my manners or be polite.     

"Old man's got a point, Pop." Brady shrugs. "I'm sure there's still video of that around here somewhere."    

"I may be old, but I can still kick your ass." Grandpa glares at Brady. "All that fancy police trainin' and you couldn't even get a damn cat out of a tree. In my day... cops were real men. None of those vests or other horseshit... if you took a bullet, you were proud of it!"    

"So, Ellie.." Sarah begins, an awkward smile on her face. "Justin said you're a book publisher..." I nod slowly, cramming another deviled egg in my mouth.     

"Well, that's nice. It's good to see him finally setting some standards for himself." Harold smiles. "I've gotta tell you Ellie, we were all pretty shocked when he brought you home."    

"Oh... really? Why's that?"    

Ah... so here it comes. Looks like the whack job wasn't making it up after all.    

I guess I should be happy that I was kidnapped by an honest crazy person.    

"Cause he's a damn fruit... that's why."    

Ok... he may be a senile old man, but I find Grandpa fucking hilarious, I can't help it. He seems to have no problem ragging on every member of his family, and I don't care who you are... that's always funny.    

"Oh Ed... don't say things like that in front of Maggie!" Sarah frowns, scolding her father in-law. "Justin's always been... well... kind of a loner. The only person he's ever really connected with was Trace, and I'll admit, for awhile we were... concerned... that he'd never find someone."    

"I don't see why it matters." A blonde, whose voice I recognize from the bathroom debacle chimes in. "A lot of people stay single. Not wanting to be in a relationship or get married doesn't make you some kind of leper."    

"It's not normal, Christy." Harold sighs in annoyance. "Everyone else in this family has done things the traditional way... he shouldn't be any different. It's not like he's an idiot, or a bad looking kid... it's laziness. Relationships take work and he refuses to put in the effort. No... he'd rather act like a 12 year old with Trace for the rest of his life. The bottom line is... he needs to grow up."    

"Well..." Sarah interrupts him and smiles at me. "I don't think we have to worry about any of that anymore."    

I can definitely feel a big ass knot forming in my stomach. I don't know what it is... but something in her eyes is just... eating away at me or something. She just looks so damn happy at the thought of her youngest son finally doing what they all thought he never would.    

And damnit...a very, very small... tiny... almost insignificant, part of me is starting to feel a twinge of sympathy for my captor.     

Obviously, his father feels pretty damn strongly about all of this, and if I had to guess... I'd say there's been some pretty intense fights about the whole thing.    

Which would totally explain Justin's reluctance to come back here.     

"You're all crackers, if ya ask me." Grandpa mutters and shakes his head. "I was married for 56 years and all I got was a bunch of kids who wanna put me in a home. Well guess what? It's not gonna happen! You put me in one of those looney bins and I'll take every last one of ya out of the will! So go ahead and try it... I dare ya's!"    

"Me too Grandpa?" Maggie asks curiously, pushing her food around on her plate.    

Does this kid even know what the crazy old man is talking about?    

"Especially you! Children are the future, my ass!"    

Good god... where the fuck did he bring me?    

That's it... this is a joke. I know it is. No family on the planet is this full of  dysfunction and insanity.    

Two sets of heavy footsteps pound down the stairs suddenly, their owners bursting into the dining room, attempting to catch their breath.    

God damnit.     

How the hell am I supposed to get out of here now?     

"Don't know why we let midgets in this house. Place may as well be a side show at the god damn circus." Grandpa mutters as he rolls his eyes, completely missing the dirty look Trace shoots his way.    

"Justin... Ellie said you weren't feeling well. Go back up and lay down sweetheart."    

"Oh... umm.... yeah... took some pepto... good as new." He forces a smile and plops down in a chair by the door, Trace following suit.     

I don't think it's possible for anyone's life to suck as much as mine does at this very moment.

*****************    

Well.... it's been an interesting afternoon, that much is for sure.    

Lunch was pretty ok for the most part, minus the whole not being able to talk thing.    

Anytime someone asked me a question or addressed me specifically, Justin would jump in and answer for me, or throw the conversation in a completely different direction. It got really fucking annoying after about two seconds.    

Once the table was cleared, everyone took off to do their own thing. Sarah and Christy retreated to the backyard to put the finishing touches on the reception decorations. Harold and Brady stayed at the table, discussing Brady's latest investigation. Maggie went to do whatever the hell little kids do and Grandpa... well... there's no telling with his crazy ass.     

As for me... my hemorrhoids and I ended up back in Justin's room and once again, I'm bored shitless.    

Ya know... that's something they oughta mention on those crime shows when they're talking about kidnap victims. They never tell you how mind numbingly boring this shit is. Not that knowing would help the situation any, but still... it's the principle.     

"I don't get it." Trace says suddenly as he jumps out of his seat and begins to pace. "I really do not fucking get it. This shit is illegal! You're like... you're on the same level as a bank robber right now. You're holding a fuckin hostage man! Couldn't you have just picked up a chick in a bar?"    

"I know Trace." Justin lets out a long sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna figure something out."    

"You fuckin better, cause there's no way out of this. Unless you kill her or something. But that'd just be a big fuckin mess, and I definitely ain't helpin' clean that up."    

"Look man... I just need you to keep your mouth shut and help me watch her. That's all I'm asking. I'll handle the rest of it, ok?"    

"Course." Trace frowns, but nods slowly. "You know I got your back dude."    

Great. Now I have two babysitters, making my chances of escape slim to fucking none.    

But, I guess the bright side to all of this is that I'm being treated fairly well, and it could always be a hell of a lot worse.    

Doesn't mean I'm happy about it though.

My eyes shoot open and I look around quickly.

It sounds incredibly stupid, but without Justin here, I'm... well... a little scared.

Yes, I'm convinced he's a total nutcase, but over the last couple days, I've gotten comfortable with his particular brand of crazy. Trace, however, looks like he's about two seconds away from totally flipping his lid and blowing the damn house up or something.

But, there is one advantage to Justin's absence.

Trace is apparently quite careless, he's a little freaked out by this whole situation and he's also sound asleep on the floor. All of which work to my advantage. I slide out of bed quietly and begin checking every drawer, bag and closet for my missing phone.

If I could get away with it, I’d be jumping for joy right now. Then I’d be a tad outraged that my phone was handled so carelessly.

I look toward the door and find Trace still sprawled out on the floor in front of it, which shoots down any plan of leaving the room to make a call.

Closet, it is.

I step inside and close the door behind me before quickly browsing my contacts list. Once Curtis’s name appears on the screen, I hit send and pray like hell that he’s actually conscious this early on a Saturday.

It takes a good five or six rings before an incredibly groggy voice fills my ears and I can’t help the stupid smile that spreads across my face.

This is it. I’m actually going to get the hell out of this insane asylum.

“Yeah?”

“Curtis… it’s me… look… I swear, I’m not fucking crazy, alright? So just listen… after lunch the other day, some god damn lunatic kidnapped me and… well… he wants me to play house with him and his whacked out family. I have no idea where I am, but his parents are…” I stop suddenly as Curtis erupts in a fit of laughter.

“El… if you let some dude pick you up, just admit it. I’m not one to judge.”

“Nobody picked me up, you jackass. I’m dead serious. He tied me up, drugged me and brought me to his parents house. You have to get me the fuck out of here.”

He sighs loudly and I can just picture him rolling his eyes. “Ellie, if this is some kind of joke…”

“It’s not damnit! Call the police or something… His parents are…. What the fucking hell?”

The closet door jerks open suddenly and the phone is yanked out of my hand before the door slams shut once again. I have absolutely no clue what just happened, but I know it can’t be good.

“Nice try.” Trace calls out from the other side of the door.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Lucky for me, you’re a loud ass thing. So… since you obviously can’t be trusted to roam around freely… you’re staying in the closet til Justin gets back.”

Is he for fucking real? Is this idiot really locking me in a closet?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You can’t be trusted. And I’m not about to fuck all this up and have my boy go to jail.”

“You are aware that’s going to happen no matter what, right? And since you’ve decided to play sidekick, I’m sure the two of you will be sharing a cell.”

“Alright look… I’m not trying to defend him, ok? Yeah… this is real fucked up. But… in a really weird way, I get it. Harold is… he’s really traditional and shit. The guy can’t help it. He expects his kids to like… follow in his footsteps. Christy and Brady did. She’s doing the interior design thing, getting married to a guy she’s been in love with since she was five, and Brady… he’s like, fucking super cop or something. The whole damn town worships the ground he walks on. He’s married to this hot ass chick and they have a kid. Justin never did any of the shit his dad wanted him to.”

“I get it, ok? However… parental drama doesn’t exactly give somebody the right to commit a felony.”

“I didn’t say that, now did I?” He snaps and for reasons beyond me, I shut up and listen. “They wanted J to go to law school, bet you didn’t know that… did you, smartass? Well… obviously, that didn’t happen. That’s kind of when all this shit started. Jus went to school with pretty much no direction, and ever since… Harold’s shit all over him. Like… the guy honestly thinks J’s a failure, just because he didn’t do what everybody else thought he should. So… since he’s out of school and working, they’ve pretty much given up harping on him about work, so now they go after the being single shit.”

“That’s a touching story, really… but I don’t care. Let me out of here you little troll!”

“No can do. So anyway…if you could look at the big picture here… you could actually fucking help these people pull their heads out of their asses. Justin, number one… needs to realize that he shouldn’t give a flying fuck what his parents think. Harold and Sarah need to figure out that J’s not a total failure. And Brady… he pretty much just needs a good kick in the balls. So… this is why you’re staying in the closet. I love these people more than my own fucked up family, and I want to see them happy. You’re the ticket to that.”

I do not like this short man, at all.

I mean, ok fine… do I feel bad for Justin? Maybe a little. But that’s besides the point. The genius could have just asked me, or any other woman out, and they probably would have said yes. And who knows… maybe somewhere down the line, he would have found a girl he could bring home to the nut house.

I, however, am not that girl. Especially not under these circumstances.

Unfortunately, I’m now stuck in a twisted version of a shitty R. Kelly song.

“And how is that, exactly?”

“I’m not a fucking prophet… how the hell should I know? Look… just play along for awhile, and once everybody comes around and starts acting like a family, Justin’ll take you back to the city, and you can go back to your life. I mean, come on… isn’t helping somebody worth some of your time? Like… that self sacrifice shit from the bible or something.”

Great… my inner sap is about to betray me, and I’m none too happy about it.

“Fine.” I grumble. “I’ll play along. Just… let me out of the fucking closet.”

“Give me on good reason why I should buy that.”

“Because… I’m not a total asshole, and obviously he really needs some help if he was fucking desperate enough to kidnap somebody. So, fine… I’ll play. But the second they have their ‘moral of the story, let’s be the brady bunch’ moment… I’m out.”

“It’s about god damn time.” Trace mutters and slowly open the door.

As soon as there’s some space between us, I push on the door with every ounce of force in my body. A loud thump followed by Trace’s cursing is my cue.

I jump over the clothes and bags scattered on the floor and bolt from the room. I make it down the stairs in record time and a second later, I’m outside.

I run full speed until I can feel the strain in my legs, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. I finally come to a stop and turn to look behind me. The house appears to be half its normal size, but the only thing surrounding me is endless land.

Jesus Christ… how many fucking acres is this joint?

I slowly turn, surveying the property around me and can’t find a single landmark or indication of civilization. It’s just… this massive house and green shit. Trees, bushes, grass, woods. It doesn’t stop.

And that’s when it hits me.

It doesn’t matter who I call. It doesn’t matter how loud I scream, how fast or how far I run. I’m smack dab in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I could very well die here, and no one would ever know. By the time someone found me, I’d probably be just a pile of bones.

“Kid… you may as well quit trying to run. And there ain‘t no point in prayin either.”

I turn to find Grandpa shuffling toward me and groan. I really, really don’t need a speech from the senile old man right now.

“About the only way out is to walk the twenty miles to town. There’s no god damn escaping this place. I’d know. I’ve tried at least a hundred damn times.”

Great. I’m a good twenty miles away from any type of civilization. Guess the old man’s good for information at least.

I’m stuck here. Until Justin decides otherwise. That’s all there is to it.

“They all think I’m crazy, ya know.” Grandpa sighs as he comes to stand beside me. “They’re the fuckin’ crazy ones. All those damn kids, and grandkids. All obsessed with the same damn thing. Life ain’t about havin’ wives, or husbands, or kids. As long as you’re doin’ what you wanna do, and you’re happy, fuck the rest of the world. My boy never learned that. He always had to be accepted. Always wanted to fit in. I know I raised him better than that.”

I nod, not completely sure what else to do.

I’ll admit, I thought the old man was completely whacked out. But he’s got a very valid point.

Looks like the crazy old man is turning out to be the most sane person here.

“Justin’s always been my favorite, you know. But don’t you go repeatin’ that shit. It’s bad enough Brady thinks his shit don’t stink… don’t need to go and ruin Justin like that.” He shoots me a stern look, before settling his gaze on the trees. “Even when he was little, he didn’t go along with everybody’s bullshit. Kid’s got a good head on his shoulders. The rest of those kook’s need to see it.”

Ok… of all the crap that’s been sprouted at me the last couple days, from Justin and Trace… none of it hit me the way this does.

Granted, I don’t know much about the family. But it’s fairly obvious that whatever the hell’s going on here, has been going on for a long damn time. Everybody seems to put up a pretty good front, but I think a lot of them are more upset about this stuff than they’re letting on.

I guess it’s all weird to me because I never really had a big family like this. It was always me, mom and dad, and everything was fine. Never really thought about it, but I guess I got pretty lucky with the family stuff.

“C’mon kid… no point in standin’ out in the yard starin’ off into space.” Grandpa sighs before turning and heading back toward the house.

I look around this massive yard one last time, and turn to follow Grandpa.

Well… this was educational.

“Here… this… and….this.” Justin smiles proudly as he holds up a pair of black dress pants and gray blouse.

Lovely. I get to spend more time in clothes that look exactly like my work clothes. Yeah, that’ll be fun. I guess I should just be happy that they at least match.

“Fine.” I mutter as I snatch the clothes away from him and stomp into the bathroom.

As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, I have yet to find a way out of this looney bin. And, not at all surprising, I’ve been on an even more hardcore lock down since the incident this afternoon.

Turns out, giving Trace a bloody nose didn’t go over so well. Who’dve thunk it?

I have to admit, I actually feel kind of bad for Christy. Mostly because if I do manage to get the hell out of here, it has the potential to completely ruin her wedding.

I mean, call me crazy… but something tells me no one would be too happy if one of the groomsmen gets sent to the slammer.

So basically, I have a decision to make. I can play nice, and spare this totally innocent woman, who’s been nothing but nice to me, or try to get the fuck out of here and risk ruining the wedding.

It’s kind of a toss up at this point.

“You ready yet? We gotta go.”

“Coming.” I jerk the door open and stumble out into the hallway. I’m fairly certain the shoes Justin got me are at least a size too big, so this should make tonight all sorts of interesting.

“Forget how to walk?” He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Actually smartass, these shoes are too big. Thanks for that, by the way. I look like Bambi learning to walk for the first time.”

“Eh… you’ll survive. Let’s go.” He grins and jogs down the stairs.

If there is a god… I’m sure he’s sitting up there somewhere laughing at me.

*****************************

Call me crazy, but I don’t quite get the concept of a rehearsal dinner. I mean, I get the whole practicing the ceremony at the church bit, but does everyone really need to eat together afterwards?

Mostly, I think it’s just an excuse to spend money and get the wedding party good and hammered before the actual wedding.

Everybody knows the only way to survive a wedding is with a nice, brutal hangover. At least, I think so anyway.

And that’s something else that’s been bugging the shit out of me… I’m not in the wedding party, so why the hell do I even have to be here tonight?

Oh, that’s right! I’m here because I’m a fucking hostage.

I know I don’t exactly have a normal victim type attitude toward all of this, but I guess the fact that I have yet to land myself in any physical danger has given me that luxury.

Granted, I’m well aware of the fact that Justin could snap at any moment, bury me alive in his backyard, and no one would ever find me, but if he hasn’t killed me yet, I’m starting to think he never will.

I mean, maybe he is exactly what he claimed. A lonely, desperate guy who couldn’t find any other way out. People are prone to pure insanity when they’re in a panic, and maybe that’s what this is.

Maybe he just panicked.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not going soft or anything, but I guess in some weird way, I kinda feel bad for the guy. It’s plain to see that every member of his family is a raving lunatic, I guess it’s only natural he’d develop his own brand of crazy.

“I’d like to make a toast…” Harold taps his fork against his champagne glass and smiles once every pair of eyes in the room is focused on him. “First, I’d like to thank all of our friends and family who are here tonight. Seeing everyone here to support my little girl and the man she loves, means more to me than you can imagine.”

As Harold continues his speech, bragging about how wonderful Christy was as a child, her various accomplishments, meeting her fiancé, planning their wedding, I can’t help but notice the way Justin fidgets in his seat and rolls his eyes.

Ya know… the more weird shit I see with this family, the more I think the problem is Justin’s relationship with his father. The two hardly speak to each other, and when they do, it usually ends in some kind of argument.

If I’ve been able to pick up on that within a couple of days, I can only imagine what some of these other crackpots think.

For a second, let’s pretend that Justin isn’t a complete nut job, and I’m here of my own free will. That’s a tough one, I know… but, for the sake of argument….

Justin isn’t a bad guy. He seems to genuinely care about his family, his little sister adores him, his older sister sticks up for him. Sure, his brother’s kind of an asshole, but I’m sure if the shit really hit the fan, Brady would be right there to defend him.

Hell, even Grandpa admitted he liked him, and that guy hates pretty much everybody.

Then, there’s Trace… who is willing to quite possibly go to jail in order to help his best friend.

If that many people care about him, obviously the guy can’t be too terrible.

He’s got a good job, I’m assuming he pays his bills. On the surface, he seems like a fairly normal guy.

So why the hell are his parents convinced he’s a complete and total failure, just because he didn’t live his life the way they wanted him to?

I don’t get it. I really, really don’t.

“So, in closing…” Harold clears his throat and I’m immediately snapped back to reality. “Christy and Jeremy… I wish the best for you both. I must admit, it makes me sad to think that this will be our last family wedding, at least for the next 20 years or so, until Maggie finds the man of her dreams.” He chuckles as the entire room laughs along with him.

I’m not defending Justin or anything, but that was a pretty fucking low blow.

Suddenly, Justin shoves his chair back from the table and storms out of the rec hall. Can’t say I blame him, really.

I excuse myself politely and head in the same direction. It doesn’t take me long to find him outside, planted on the concrete steps.

Now would probably be a good time to learn to keep my mouth in check, because if I say the wrong thing, Justin looks like he’d have no problem ripping me limb from limb and feeding the pieces to his dog.

I ease down next to him and he doesn’t so much as glance in my direction. I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to do here. On one hand, yes… I feel bad for him. But on the other, he’s holding me captive, and well… there’s only so much sympathy you can muster up for a criminal who’s violating your civil rights.

“So… rehearsal dinners are… fun.” I offer weakly.

Justin doesn’t even crack a smile. “You know what Ellie… just go. You’re off the hook. There’s a police station a couple miles down the road… just go, press charges. Whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

Ok, that’s a flat out lie. But, sometimes you gotta lie to cheer people up, and…

Holy fucking shit… did he just say I could leave?

“He did.” He rolls his eyes. “But it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do is gonna be good enough and trying to impress him with you was fucking pointless. Get out of here Ellie. Tell the cops who my parents are, they’ll know where to find me.”

“Really?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Just go.”

“Oh…um… ok. Well, uh… thanks… for not murdering me or anything.” I smile awkwardly. He waves me off as he stands up and heads back inside.

Jesus Christ… I’m free.

I have no idea where I am, but I’m free, and that’s all that matters. I’ll find the police station, they’ll take me home and that’ll be the end of this whole mess.

I can’t fucking believe it.

I make my way out of the dimly lit parking lot and quickly find the main road. There isn’t a single person or car in sight, but I can see bright lights a little ways ahead and I’m taking that as a good sign.

Now, I’ve got to admit… I thought this whole freedom thing would be a little more… exciting, I guess is the right word. Roughly 24 hours ago, I imagined this very same moment and could clearly see myself dancing down the street, or something equally as awkward.

Instead, and for reasons completely beyond me, I feel kind of… well… bad.

I’m slowly but surely beginning to see the things Justin said his father was, and in this really fucked up way, I almost understand why he did what he did.

Everybody wants their parents approval, and I guess some people are more desperate for it than others. And that’s what this whole thing was about. Justin wanted his father’s approval so badly, he was willing to do whatever it took to get it.

I just wish he would have found a more conventional way to do it.

I walk for what feels like an eternity, thanks in large part to these stupid ass shoes, before I finally come to a halt in front of the police station.

Pressing charges is the right thing to do… right?

I mean, my feeling a tiny bit of sympathy for the psycho doesn’t change the fact that he committed a felony. He deserves some type of punishment for the things he’s done in the last 72 hours.

But… you could almost argue that being stuck with that kooky ass family is punishment enough.

“Ma’am… can I help you?”

I jump slightly and look up to find an office staring at me curiously.

Well, this is it. Moment of truth and all that jazz.

“Umm… yeah, actually.” I swallow hard and pray that what I’m about to say doesn’t sound as crazy as it does in my head. “I was… I… I’m looking for the rec hall. I’m supposed to be at a rehearsal dinner and I’m running late.”

It’s official, I’m more whacked out of my mind than every member of the Timberlake clan put together.

“Oh… it’s just down that way.” The officer smiles at me as he points in the direction I just came from. “It’s about a five minute drive from here.”

“Thanks.” I nod and quickly turn to head back down the street.

Go ahead and say it. I’m a total sap. I’m a chicken shit. I have no form of a backbone what so ever.

I’ll agree with you wholeheartedly.

Or maybe lack of contact with sane people has given me brain damage. Crazy can be contagious, right?

I finally trek back to the rec hall and take a deep breath before heading inside the building. Something tells me I’m probably going to regret this, but seeing as how I’ve already lied to a cop, I’m kind of stuck here.

“What the hell…”

“We’re the same height… you make a scene… and I will take you down. They probably won’t even notice that you’re gone.”

“Hey… calm your ass down…” Trace laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re back. Justin said you were going to the cops because his stupid ass told you to.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t. So I expect a little more appreciation for that fact.”

“Hey… I’m not complaining. Anyway… Justin went home to wait for the cops. I’m ready to head out, so… I guess I can drop you off?” I nod in response and follow Trace out of the rec hall.

Here’s an unsurprising little factoid for you… he drives like a god damn lunatic. Waits until the last second to hit the brakes, tailgates like a mother fucker and takes turns like he’s in the Indy 500.

And I thought being kidnapped was scary.

As soon as he comes to a screeching halt in front of the house, I practically fly out of the car in an attempt to put as much distance between myself and Trace’s death mobile of horror as humanly possible.

I enter the house to find it completely dark and eerily silent. Justin is seated on the couch, staring off into space and doesn’t acknowledge me until I clear my throat.

“Ellie? What the hell are you doing here? Did you bring the cops?”

“Umm… well… no.” I sigh and plop down next to him. “I went to the station… even talked to a cop, and… I lied.” I shrug as his eyes widen. “Don’t look at me like that… I didn’t do it for you.”

Hmm… looks like I’m getting pretty crafty with this lying thing. Not really sure if that’s a good or bad thing though.

“Wha… why? I mean… hello… crazy guy kidnaps you… you’re given an opportunity to escape, go to the cops even, and you come back? Are we sure I’m the psycho here, cause really… Not getting this. At all.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your sisters wedding. You’re in the damn thing, for Christ sake. Everybody knows it’s impossible to find a groomsman this late in the game. So, after the wedding… you’ll let me go, and I’ll press charges. It’s all quite simple.”

“Got it all worked out, don’t ya?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Fine. Ellie… if that’s what you want… that’s fine. Thank you for not ruining the wedding. I’m sure Christy will appreciate it.”

“Eh well…whatever. I’m going to bed.” I mutter and move to make my way upstairs.

Yep. I am as much of a fucking nutcase as anyone in this family.

Go ahead and say it. Seriously……. I won’t put up any type of argument, cause you’re a thousand percent right.

I belong in some sort of institution just as much as the rest of them.

I could have very easily gotten away last night. I could have gone to the police, had Justin arrested and gone back to my life.

But oh no. My stupid ass just had to go and develop some pity. I think I’m getting soft in my old age and I don’t like it one bit.

I just couldn’t help it. I mean, Harold stood up and pretty much humiliated his youngest son in front of a huge room of people. Who wouldn’t feel bad after seeing something like that?

And honestly, if that’s the kind of shit Justin’s been dealing with his whole life, it’s not all that hard to see why the dude snapped.

Besides, the wedding is later this afternoon and the deal is that he’ll let me go once this is done and over with. So, I guess a few more hours as a hostage won’t kill me.

See… contrary to popular belief, I can be nice. Sometimes.

“How do you know she won’t do it? She seems like a nice girl…”

“Because Chris, she just… won’t. You can’t come out of nowhere and ask people to do shit like that!”

I can clearly hear Justin and his sister arguing in the hallway, and I have a bad, bad feeling I’m somehow involved.

“I’m desperate, ok? And I don’t know anybody else who’s the same size! I’m asking her, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine, but when she laughs and tells you to fuck off, just remember… I warned you.”

The door opens a second later and they enter the room, both of them wearing what can only be described as anxious, awkward smiles.

Why is it that anytime someone is about to ask you to do something they know damn well you won’t want to do, they smile and act like it’s the greatest idea ever?

People are assholes.

“Morning Ellie.” Christy smiles as she plops down on the bed beside me.

Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to crack some type of medusa joke, thanks to all the shit she’s got in her hair, but I think I’ll keep it to myself for the moment.

“Morning.” I eye her skeptically, not missing the shit eating grin plastered on Justin’s face. “So, uhh… you guys need something?”

“I don’t need a damn thing. I am not involved in this, what so ever.”

“Can you shut up for five minutes? This is my day, you little jerk. You’re supposed to be nice to me damnit!”

Alright… apparently, rule of the day is, don’t fuck with the bride. Noted.

“Anyway… Ellie..” She turns back to me, her voice taking on a sickeningly sweet tone. “I have a huge, huge favor to ask you. And you can say no. I just… I really need your help.”

If she’s suddenly got cold feet and is looking for a quick escape, I am so obviously the wrong person to ask.

After all, I’m the dipshit who tried to climb out of the bathroom window, rather than walk out the front door. But, we’re not going to talk about that.

“Umm… ok…”

“One of the bridesmaids fell and broke her ankle while getting out of the shower this morning. Why she didn’t put a towel down on a tile floor is beyond me, but that’s not the point.” She sighs and musters up the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. “You met Amy at the rehearsal dinner last night, and you saw how tiny she is. The problem is… the dress is already tailored to fit her, and I don’t know anyone else who’s that same size…. Except you.”

Seriously?

What the fuck have I ever done to deserve this?

I have yet to report Justin to the proper authorities. I haven’t told his parents what he did to me. I’ve cooperated for a good part of this whole fiasco. I thought surely that would rack up some good karma points.

“You really, really don’t want me in your wedding.” I mutter uncomfortably. “I have like, zero hand-eye coordination, and I am beyond clumsy. Something will get broken, or set on fire. Trust me. You don’t want me in your wedding.”

“Ellie, please? You have no idea how desperate I am here. I honest to god, am out of options here. Please?”

Great. Here come the waterworks. What the hell is with this family? Anytime one of them starts to cry, or appear upset, you immediately feel like the worlds biggest schmuck and will do absolutely anything to help them.

They’re just so fucking helpless looking.

“You can even walk down the aisle with Justin!”

“Umm… yay?” Really? How the fuck is that supposed to convince me to do this?

“Oh Ellie… thank you!” She cries and throws her arms around my neck in a quick hug, before she bounds out of the room.

I didn’t say yes, did I?

God damnit.

“So… you’re a bridesmaid.” Justin smirks. “That oughta be fun.”

“There is a special place in hell for you. I’m sure of it.” I roll my eyes and finally crawl out of bed. “So, what do I gotta do?”

“The other girls should be here soon. You’re all supposed to get ready together. We’ll head to the church around four. Ceremony’s at six. It’ll last til we’re all about a hundred fucking years old. Then we party.” He shrugs. “It’s pretty simple actually.”

“Spectacular.” I mutter as Justin heads out of the room, chuckling to himself.

I don’t know what I did to piss off the man upstairs, but I’ve got a feeling he’s having a wonderful time fucking with me.

***********************

“So, how did you and Justin meet?” An elderly woman whose name I’ve already forgotten smiles politely at me.

“He’s a regular at the club I dance in.” I shrug and down the rest of my drink, watching in amusement as the woman shoots me a disgusted look before scurrying away.

Yes, I’m being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. It’s not right, but what do I care? I never have to see these people again.

I’m sure you’re just dying to hear all the glorious details of Christy and her oh so wonderful wedding, right?

Well, you’re not getting them. But, I will say this. There were dresses, and a priest, and a church decorated in entirely too many flowers.

There was also a ceremony that I may or may not have fallen asleep during. I still contend that I was praying. But that is neither here nor there.

It was your typical wedding. Plain and simple. I’m just ready to get all of this over with so I can get my ass back home and back to work.

Jesus Christ… I don’t even want to think about what a mess my office surely is. I’ll bet that fucking Kim’s burned down the building or something.

Ok, I need liquor, or I’m going to send myself into a massive panic attack worrying about work.

“Can I get another?”

The bartender eyes me carefully and shakes his head. “I think you’ve had enough. You can barely walk as is.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I have a handicap and this is how I always walk?”

“Right.” He chuckles and rolls his eyes before focusing his attention on the man behind me.

“Please tell me you did not tell my Aunt Elsie that you’re a hooker.” Justin groans as he suddenly appears beside me.

“Is she the one in the funny hat?”

“No. She’s the one in the purple dress.”

“Ah… ok. I told funny hat lady that I’m a hooker. I told purple dress I’m a stripper. And… the guy with the bad toupee thinks I used to be a man.”

“Christ almighty Ellie! This is my family! You can’t say shit like that!” He squeaks.

“What else was I gonna do? I’m bored. Tell you what… you distract the bartender so I can get another drink, and I’ll play nice the rest of the night. Douche bag cut me off.”

“With good reason.” Justin mutters. “Can’t you just… got sit in a corner somewhere or something til it’s time to leave?”

“Nobody puts Ellie in the corner!” Trace shouts as he pushes his way through the crowd, smiling stupidly. “What’s goin on guys?”

“I need alcohol.”

“No. No, you do not.” Justin protests to no avail.

“I got you covered. Follow me.” Trace grins as he grabs me by the elbow and drags me through the crowd.

We stroll up to the bar, doing our best to look discreet. We’re more than likely not succeeding, but seeing as how I have no idea what the little man is up to, I don’t really care.

“Hey… bartender!” Trace shouts over the music, gesturing wildly to the man. “Some kids got a hold of a couple bottles of Jack. You might wanna confiscate them before the old folks find out.”

“Shit, seriously?”

“Yeah man. They’re in the stairwell.” Trace nods seriously. “I’d hate to see you lose your liquor license and your commission cause of some punk ass kids.”

“Yeah… yeah. Thanks man. Can you…”

“I’m all over this.” Trace grins as the bartender hauls ass toward the stairwell. “Make it snappy woman.”

I grab the first large, un-opened bottle I see and head for the corner furthest away from the bar.

Looks like I will be sitting in a corner until this shindig is over, after all.

**********************************

I’ve been sitting by myself for almost two hours and I’ve managed to polish off half a bottle of wine.

How is this shit not over yet?

“Oh! They’re making the toasts!”

I hear several ooh’s and ahh’s, and roll my eyes. I’m convinced that every member of the Timberlake clan is a raging imbecile. That’s the only explanation.

Several members of the wedding party stand up and speak, but it isn’t until Justin clears his throat that I start to pay attention. The best man passes him the mic, and he smiles widely at the crowd.

Oh brother. Who’s idea was it to let the perpetual bachelor make a fucking wedding speech? Just another reason for every person in this room to have their head examined I suppose.

“I’ll be quick, I swear.” He chuckles nervously. “Uhh… Ted, welcome to the family. Hope you got a therapist on speed dial. Chris… I am honestly, beyond happy for you. You’re my big sister, and seeing you like this means the world to me…”

Justin continues to ramble on, and I’m quickly finding myself bored out of my god damned mind. What happened to this shit being quick?

I rise from my seat, rolling my eyes when I wobble slightly. I grab the now half empty bottle of wine and amble up to Justin, ignoring the wedding guest’s curious stares.

I tap him on the shoulder and wait. Nothing.

Damnit, pay attention to me, you curly haired freak!

I tap him on the shoulder once more and frown when he keeps on yapping. I can’t take this anymore. The horrible 90’s dance music, Justin’s nasally ass voice, the formal wear… it’s slowly but surely pushing me to the very brink of insanity.

I’ve got to do something.

Before I have time to even think about my next move, I’m standing in front of Justin, prying the microphone from his hands.

He smiles awkwardly and tries to jerk it back, but I’m not giving up that easily. I manage to skip right out of his grasp and within seconds, the spotlight is on me.

“Hello wedding people.” I grin drunkenly, shielding my eyes from the almost blinding light. “My name is Ellie Morgan… or, temporary bridesmaid number four. Whichever you prefer. I’m technically not supposed to make a speech so, I won’t. Instead… I will tell you a story.” I take a long swig from the bottle and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Ellie!” Justin hisses my name through clenched teeth and I dismiss him with a wave.

People are listening to me for a change, I’m not about to let him ruin this for me.

“Everybody here thinks Justin’s a good guy… right? Show of hands, please.” I roll my eyes when only one hand shoots up in the air.

Maggie’s.

Why am I not surprised. Either these people really don’t like Justin, or I’m being ignored. I’m not entirely sure which.

“Well… he is a good guy. So good in fact, that he will do anything to impress you people. Personally, I don’t know why he’s so desperate for your approval. You all seem like morally depraved psychos to me.” I shrug, not missing the gasps that seem to echo around the room.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m starting to realize that downing half a bottle of wine was a terrible, terrible idea.

“God damnit Ellie… I am going to kill you!” Justin mutters as he once again tries to grab the mic away from me.

“Oh, now’s the time you choose to kill me? Wouldn’t the right time for that have been when you kidnapped me?”

In that instant, I am completely sober.

I swear to god… I wasn’t going to out him. I really, really wasn’t.

We both turn to the crowd in front of us, our expressions as horrified as the ones staring back at us.

Fuck.

Before I can really comprehend what’s happening, I’m being dragged down a hallway, toward the exits.

Welp, looks like he is going to murder me. In the back of my mind, I kind of expected it somehow. I mean, it’s not like he could just return me to my everyday life.

There’d be way too many questions.

Once we’re outside, he shoves me roughly against the building and suddenly, my entire life is flashing before my eyes.

My fifth birthday when my parents used trick candles on my cake.

Learning to ride a bike without training wheels, which resulted in five stitches in my chin.

Graduating high school, then college. Landing a job at the publishing company. My lunch dates with Curtis.

Every moment of my life is speeding through my mind and all I can do is stand here and wait.

I’m not even exactly sure what I’m waiting for. Death would be the logical answer, but something tells me Justin doesn’t have it in him to kill me.

I don’t think he ever really did.

He’s pacing wildly in front of me, his hands shoved in his pockets. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do or say here.

I mean… I didn’t intentionally out him. It was an accident. He’s gotta know that, right?

He finally stops and turns to stare at me, nothing but disgust and pure hatred filling his eyes.

Well shit… maybe he is going to kill me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He spit’s the words out and I can’t help but flinch.

Even after being kidnapped and drugged by this guy, I’ve never been more terrified of him than I am at this very moment.

“It was an accident Justin! I didn’t mean to… I’m sure they didn’t even believe it.”

“That’s not the fucking point! That’s my god damn family in there! This is my sister’s wedding! Are you so fucking selfish that you can’t even comprehend the importance of what’s going on here?”

He’s full on screaming at me now and a small part of me would love nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry.

“You want to embarrass me? Ok, fine. But you just destroyed what’s supposed to be the most important fucking day in my sister’s life. Who the fuck does that? I mean, honestly… how shitty of a human being do you have to be to have so little compassion for other people?”

“Hold the damn phone for a second here.” I finally muster up the courage to come back at him.

I never said I wasn’t an asshole. I’m cynical, I’m crabby and quite frankly… a lot like a bitter old man. However, I’d like to think I’ve been perfectly reasonable through this whole mess.

I’ve done every fucking thing he’s asked me to. Hell, I even fucking came back when he finally cut me loose.

He kidnapped me. I’m not about to stand here and let him play the victim.

“Don’t you dare preach to me about compassion and whatever other good Samaritan bullshit you’ve got floating through that fucked up head of yours. Where was your compassion and understanding for me when you pulled me off the street and shoved me in the back of your fucking car, huh? Did you ever stop to think that I had a fucking life? That maybe, I had things I couldn’t walk away from? Don’t you fucking dare make me out as the bad guy here Justin.”

“I gave you a chance to get away. And you came back. You weren’t gonna be satisfied until you found a way to fuck everything up, were you? Yeah… I completely lost it. I broke the fucking law, I have no problem admitting that. But at the end of it, I wasn‘t out to hurt anybody, least of all you. But you… it’s like you don’t even have a fucking heart Ellie.” He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “And you wonder why nobody came to look for you.”

I recoil as if he slapped me right in the face, and immediately, I can feel tears welling up in my eyes.

He’s right.

Nobody’s come to look for me.

Even after I called Curtis, nobody came. Maybe he’s right about me. Maybe I really am so fucking horrible, that the people in my life are actually thankful I’m gone.

He really could murder me and get away with it.

“You know what… just go. Go back to the police station, tell them what happened…or don’t. I don’t care anymore.” He shrugs helplessly. “Ellie… I’m sorry for what I did… I really, truly am. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how horrible I feel for what I did to you. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anybody else. If anything… I wanted to make everybody happy. I just went about it the wrong way. And I’m sorry.” Before I can utter a single word, he heads back inside the building, slamming the door behind him.

Call it sheer stupidity, or childishness, but I take off my shoes and throw them at the door with every ounce of force in my body.

They didn’t fucking fit anyway.

I roll the hem of my dress up to my ankles and start toward the police station again.

I don’t want to press charges, but what choice do I have? I don’t know where the hell I am, I don’t have any way home. Reporting him to the police is the only way I can get back to my life.

I walk down the road carefully, making sure to step over rocks, shards of glass and cigarette butts. Ok… maybe taking off those awful shoes wasn’t such a good idea after all.

I reach the police station and frown.

What if I just told them I’m lost and need a way home?

Yeah, that’d work if I was 10 years old. 26? Not so much.

Or… maybe they’d believe me if I said my car was broken down and…

No. They’d want to tow the car.

Looks like the truth is the only option I got here.

I climb the stairs slowly, running the words through my head as I go. How the hell do you tell someone you were kidnapped, but don’t really want anything bad to happen to your kidnapper?

Then again… maybe I do want him to get in trouble.

I mean, ok yeah… he apologized. But how much of an apology really counts when you’re also telling someone what a shitty person they are?

I pull the glass door open and smile awkwardly at the officer behind the desk. He eyes me curiously for several seconds, but beckons me forward with a nod.

“Can I help you miss?”

“Umm… well… I… uhh… yes.” I clear my throat and nod, attempting to convince myself that this is what needs to happen. “I’m… I… I’m here to report a kidnapping.”

A look of slight alarm appears on the man’s face and I now have his undivided attention. He grabs a sheet of paper and pen, ready to write down my every word.

“And what kidnapping would that be?”

“Mine.”

Ever notice how sometimes, you wait for something, for what feels like a lifetime, and when it finally comes…. It just doesn’t feel right?

That’s exactly what’s happening right now.

I’ve been held captive for a total of four days and I spent every single day preparing for what I’d do or say when I was finally able to go to the cops. Yet, here I sit in the middle of a police station, wrapped in some huge, smelly blanket and all I want to do is tell them I was joking.

For reasons I’ll probably never understand, Justin got to me. In four short days, he managed to get completely under my skin and I feel awful for what I’m doing to him right now. And yes, I know how fucked up that sounds.

The guy kidnapped me and I end up feeling like the bad guy. Go fucking figure.

I really didn’t mean to out him, especially like that. It just kinda slipped out and once it was on the table, I couldn’t take it back. If I had any way to change that, I would.

I mean, yes… he could have come up with a much smarter, legal way to handle things, but when you get right down to it… he was just trying to make his family happy. He wanted his sisters wedding to go off without a hitch, to have the focus on her, instead of himself. And he really, really wanted to show his parents that he’s not a total fuck up.

And I ruined all of it.

Let’s face facts here, plenty of people have done crazy shit to impress their families. I guess on some level, we’re all desperate for some form of parental approval. Some more than others, but you get the gist of it.

As strange as it sounds, I almost wish I would have cooperated with him.

Maybe if I had, the fact that no one came to look for me wouldn’t sting so much. Honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to me until he said it. But, then I realized… he was a hundred percent right.

I know I’m not the anti-Christ or anything, but maybe if I was a little nicer, a little more caring, less hard headed, people would’ve been more concerned with my disappearance.

“Alright, run this by me one more time.” Officer Clark smiles politely. I let out a long sigh and fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Believe it or not, the cops think I’m completely bonkers. I’ve had to tell them my story at least a dozen times in the two hours I’ve been here and I have yet to see any type of action be taken.

Which could ultimately be a good thing I guess.

I recite the story for the millionth time, beginning with the actual kidnapping and ending with my arrival at the station. Naturally, I left out a few small details, like my getting stuck in that god damn bathroom window, and going back when Justin cut me loose the first time.

Officer Clark finally nods, seemingly satisfied with the information I’ve given him yet again. “Alright Miss Morgan… I’ll have a female officer escort you to the hospital and once you’re finished there, you’ll be able to go home and get some rest.”

“The hospital?”

“It’s a routine procedure. We need to have you checked out and perform a rape kit.”

Oh for fucks sake.

I’ve told this idiot a thousand times that I’m perfectly fine and most definitely was not raped. See kids… cops are just as stupid as they portray them on TV.

“How many times do I have to tell you? He didn’t hurt me, and he sure as shit didn’t rape me! He was beyond nice to me. I just want to go home!”

“Are you absolutely sure you weren’t abused in any way?”

“Depends on your definition of abuse, I suppose.” I shrug. “I had to be a bridesmaid in his sister’s wedding…. I’d consider that abuse, not sure how you feel about it though.”

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” He asks, completely ignoring my smart ass remark.

“Yes. His name’s Curtis Fletcher. He’s my best friend and his number is in my phone. He’ll pick me up.”

“Ok. I’ll get a hold of Mr. Fletcher. You just sit tight.” He smiles awkwardly at me before sliding out of his seat.

Looks like I’m finally going home.

Yippy fucking skippy.

*******************************

“Jesus Christ… Ellie…” Curtis lets out a long breath as he kneels down in front of me, nothing but worry filling his eyes. “Are you alright? He didn’t… fuck… did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” I mumble, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.

Curtis is my best friend on the planet, but I’ve gotta admit, it’s really fucking weird to see him this concerned about anything, much less another human being.

“So… what are they doing? I mean… they’re gonna arrest this asshole, right?”

“Yeah. They’re charging him with kidnapping in the first degree. Whatever the fuck that means.” I shrug lamely. “Can you just take me home… please?”

“Yeah El… whatever you need.” He smiles sympathetically and moves to help me stand up.

“I’m fucking fine.” I bark and quickly shove his hands away. “Don’t treat me like I just escaped a concentration camp, ok? Just take me home so I can sleep in my own damn bed.”

I know it’s a completely dick move to take my guilt out on him, but I can’t help it. I’m just so god damn mad at myself. And ok fine… I’m a tad pissed that nobody, especially Curtis, came to look for me.

But… it’s mostly the guilt.

I shouldn’t have turned him in. I mean… it’s not like he tried to hurt me. If anything, he took really good care of me. Sure, he went a little nuts, but he had good intentions behind it. That’s gotta count for something, right?

“Why didn’t you come looking for me?” I blurt out as soon as we climb in the car.

Shit.

I swear, I wasn’t planning to ask him that. Apparently, my mouth has a mind of its own tonight and says whatever the hell it wants.

“What? Ellie… I looked for you.”

“No you didn’t.” I chuckle and roll my eyes. “When I called you… you laughed at me. Granted, I was fine. But… what if it was some psycho who’d gotten a hold of me? What if instead of picking me up… you were here to identify a body?”

He frowns and looks away quickly. “Fine… you’re right. I didn’t look for you, and I hate to say it El… but you have this… boy who cried wolf thing about you. Everything is always a thousand times worse than it actually is. You cut your leg… it’s falling off. You sneeze, and suddenly, you have the fucking plague. When you said you’d been kidnapped… honestly, I just didn’t buy it. And I’m not calling you a liar or anything. You’re just… a little over dramatic. But Ellie… if I’d had any clue… you better believe I would’ve been out with a fucking search party. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Yeah.” I mutter and roll my eyes. “Can we go now?” He starts the engine and puts the car in drive, but doesn’t budge.

In a prime example of shit that would only happen to me, two figures pass in front of the car. One of them in full police uniform, the other in a very familiar, wrinkled black suit, his hands cuffed behind his back.

I really, really didn’t need to see this.

Within seconds, what appears to be an entire fleet of town cars pull into the lot. People begin piling out of them quickly and there’s no mistaking the formal wear.

Christ almighty… I think his whole fuckin family followed him here.

As if I didn’t feel shitty enough, god just had to fuck with me one last time.

I slide down in my seat and shield my eyes with my hand. “Curtis… for the love of god, will you please get me the fuck out of here… now?”

**************************

“Ellie… that lawyer’s on the phone for you again.” Kim smiles as she breezes past my office.

I glance down at the phone and can’t stop the scowl that takes over my face when I spot the red flashing light on my line.

I thought the whole legal process was supposed to move fairly slow?

I’ve been home for three days and this attorney has called me at least a dozen times. So far, I’ve done a pretty good job of dodging him, but it looks like the fucker’s finally caught up with me.

“Ellie Morgan.”

“Miss Morgan… so glad I finally caught you. This is Stan Caplan… the prosecutor on your case. I’d like for you to come into my office sometime this week. We need to-”

“Look… I get that you’re trying to do your job… but I am really, really not interested in testifying. So can you just lose my number and let this whole thing go?”

“Miss Morgan… Mr. Timberlake will be tried, whether you’re there to testify or not. However… your testimony would turn this into an open and shut case. Which would make things much, much easier on everyone involved.”

Great.

I can’t fucking win no matter what I do.

“How… is… is there a way I can like… stop this?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes tightly. I just want this to all go away.

“You’d have to go to the police station and drop the charges. But, I don’t recommend doing that. Mr. Timberlake violated your civil rights and-” I slam the phone down on the receiver and grab my bag.

I don’t know why the hell that didn’t occur to me. I mean… how fucking easy is dropping the charges?

“Kim… hold all my calls. I’ve got a little bit of emergency… shouldn’t take more than an hour or so.” I shout over my shoulder as I practically sprint toward the door.

It takes me almost 45 minutes to reach the police station and I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot Officer Clark at the front desk.

“Hi… remember me?” I smile at him and he shoots me a bored look.

“You’re the mouthy girl who was kidnapped, right?”

“Kidnapped, yes.” I roll my eyes, doing my best to keep the smile intact. “The prosecutor told me if I wanted to stop this whole thing, all I had to do was come down here and drop the charges… so… umm… can you like, wave your nightstick and have the charges dropped? Please?”

“Sure. Then I’ll turn my handcuffs into doves.” He snorts and grabs several sheets of paper. “Fill those out. It’ll take a day or two to process the paperwork, but once it goes through, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

I fill out the paperwork as quickly and legibly as humanly possible before handing it over to Office Clark.

“So, anything else?”

“No. Unless you have some other smart ass comments you’d like to make.” He smiles sarcastically and I shake my head.

“You’re going to let Justin out now, right?”

“Once this is filed.” He waves the paperwork at me. “Have a nice day Miss Morgan.”

“Thanks. You too.”

There.

It’s done.

The charges are dropped, Justin will get out of jail, and I’ll never have to worry about this mess ever again.

It’s finally over.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s the sort of thing we’d pick up anyway. Walter has always shot down every romance novel we’ve ever been pitched. That woman’s anger is completely misdirected. This isn’t my fault. So… whatever.” I huff and roll my eyes. “So… anything going on with you?”

“Course not. I’m a boring dude.” Curtis chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets, his feet dragging the ground as we head for the diner.

Yes… we finally found a new place to eat. After the kidnapping incident last year, we both thought that changing up our routine a bit might be a good idea.

I’d like to sit here and tell you that I had some huge self epiphany or that Justin forgave me, but that would just make me a liar.

However, I did try to be nicer and less cynical, but quite frankly… I didn’t like it. Being a snark is kind of my thing, so that being nice shit lasted all of about two days.

I mean really, if there was some life lesson to be learned through all of this, I don’t know what the hell it was.

But, I’m sure that’s not the part you’re interested in. You want to hear what happened to Justin. People love psychos. It’s completely beyond me.

Unfortunately for you, I haven’t got a clue what happened to him. I haven’t seen him since the night he was arrested, which may I remind you, was also the night of his sisters wedding.

I’m fairly certain I gained at least 10 more bitch points for that.

There wasn’t even any news coverage on any of what happened. As far as I know, he got out of jail and went on with his life. So, there ya go.

I know… probably not the sunshine and rainbows ending you hoped for, but this is my life, not some sappy, lame ass Katherine Heigl movie.

“What’re you getting?”

“Salad and garlic bread. Duh.” I roll my eyes at Curtis as we finally reach our destination.

Come to think of it, I guess I did kind of learn something about myself through that whole mess.

Curtis was a thousand percent right when he called me out. I’ve always been a little over dramatic, almost to the point of being over the top. I’m kind of beginning to understand why he didn’t try to find me.

Granted, “kind of” are the operative words there.

Part of me is still a tad pissed, but we try to not talk about it. And it’s not because it was some horrible, traumatic event. There just isn’t anything to say about it anymore.

Sure, I could complain about the way my life was interrupted, or how I almost lost my job, but it was four days. Not really all that earth shattering if you think about it.

I was treated well, I was taken care of and deep, deep… we’re talking like, down in my toes, deep down…part of me hopes Justin and his family were able to work out their issues.

Lord knows, there’s plenty of crazy for that family to straighten out. I bet a therapist could make some huge ass bank off of those people.

But, probably the craziest thing of all, is that I kind of miss all those weirdos. They were highly entertaining, after all. At least for me, anyway.

But, it’s over and done with. It’s just a very, very odd thing that happened to me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Weird and crazy seem to follow me wherever I go.

Not really sure what that says about me though.

We quickly take our places in line, and I can’t help but laugh as Curtis stares at the menu hanging on the wall.

He can look all he wants. I know damn well he’ll be getting the same exact thing I am.

The man in front of us shuffles forward when the clerk beckons him and with the way he’s studying the menu, I have a bad, bad feeling that it’s gonna be quite awhile before I get my salad.

Hell, with my luck… the fucking lettuce will probably be wilted by the time this douche places his order.

“Ok… give me…a… chicken salad sandwich…. And…. Barbecue chips. Or no… sour cream and onion… no, no wait… plain. Ah… no… barbecue… definitely barbecue.”

My head snaps up immediately and I swear to Christ, I stop breathing. I’m pretty sure my heart isn’t even beating anymore.

Holy fuck… I just had a heart attack and died.

Great. I died in a fucking diner. I didn’t even get a last meal. Even prisoners on death row get a last meal!

The man in front of us picks up his tray, and everything seems to move in slow motion. He turns to find a table and I dart behind Curtis.

Oh. My. God.

Ok… breathe. Just breathe.

I manage to collect myself in a matter of seconds and keep my head down as Curtis places his order.

Why the fuck am I scared?

Ok fine, yes… I screwed up last year. But I fixed it! I dropped the charges and that is exactly why he’s here, in my diner, obsessing over what kind of chips to have with his lunch.

If it wasn’t for me, he’d be wearing a hideous orange jumpsuit, and sharing a cell with god only knows what.

So, yeah… I don’t need to be scared.

“Curtis… I’ll be right back.”

He nods disinterestedly and I quickly scan the diner. I find him seated at a table in the corner, by himself, chowing down.

I take a step forward and my mind goes blank. What the hell am I supposed to say to him?

‘Oh hey… sorry I turned you into the cops, but uhh… you kind of held me hostage?’

Right. That’ll work.

Maybe…

Maybe what we need is a clean slate.

I march over to the table and practically shove my hand in his face. “Hi, I’m Ellie.”

He looks up at me, eyes wide, a freaking chip hanging halfway out of his mouth. Somehow, that is so completely Justin. Awkward and kind of adorable.

“Wha… wha… what the hell are you doing?”

“Well… I was waiting in line for my lunch… saw you, and thought hey… he looks like a decent, attractive, mentally stable guy. And ya know… those are really, really hard to find.”

“Ellie… this isn’t funny.” He frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’re trying to fuck with me, but can’t you just.. Please, for the love of god… just let it be.”

“So, what’s your name?” I slide into the seat across from him and smile widely.

“Oh for fucks sake. Have you lost your god damned mind? I mean… seriously… why… just… why?”

I let out a long sigh and shoot him a pointed look. “Just work with me here, alright? I cooperated with you when you acted like a psycho.” He snorts in response and I roll my eyes. “Alright, I cooperated at least… sixty percent of the time.”

“Try twenty.”

“Fair enough.” I nod. “So… name please?”

He gives me a bored look and shakes his head. He’s trying his damnedest to hide it, but I can clearly see the smile creeping onto his face.

“Justin.”

“Alright Justin… age, line of work, favorite color, and… type of soap.”

“27. Graphic design. Dark green. And… it’s fucking soap Ellie. Who cares?” He chuckles softly. “Could you be more random?”

“Probably. But, since you’re all defensive about your soap… favorite restaurant?”

“Don’t really have one.” He shrugs. “Just somewhere quiet I guess. What’s with the 20 questions?”

Before I can answer, a loud voice calls out from the front of the diner and I don’t even have to look up to know who it is.

“Thanks for ordering without me. Ass. I told you I was…. “ He trails off as his eyes land on me and it takes all I have to not laugh. “What in holy fucking hell is she doing here?”

Justin smirks at me, then looks up at his best friend. “Trace… this is Ellie. Ellie, this is Trace.”

“Oh, real fucking funny.” He mutters and rolls his eyes. “You’re both god damned lunatics. I swear to Christ… surrounded by crazy assholes, all the damn time.” He continues to mutter to himself for several minutes, before a blonde on the other side of the diner catches his attention and he walks away without another word.

I don’t know how, but this is going surprisingly well. And, I’m actually kind of glad for that.

I can’t exactly say I like Justin, but… I always kind of thought, had he asked me out properly, I would have said yes.

“Ellie… this is a real cute game and all, but really… what’re you doing?”

“Teaching you how to ask someone out.” I shrug. “So, Justin… whadda ya say?”

“You… you’re… you’re asking me out?” He laughs loudly and shakes his head. “You have got to be the only woman on the planet who’s as crazy as I am.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

He laughs at me again, and for the first time, I’m seeing a genuine smile on the guys face.

“My parents ain’t gonna like this.”

“Your parents don’t even like you. So, no real change there.”

And that folks, is how the man who kidnapped me, became my boyfriend.