South of Nowhere 1. Chapter 1

**1.**

**Friday**

**Afternoon**

Spencer was always a pretty girl.

It really went without saying most times but the girl was undeniably gorgeous.

They say blonde hair and blue eyes is some kind of a birth defect but she worked that mutation like Wolverine and his titanium alloy claws.

She also was the good girl.

She got good grades, went to church, actually _listened_ at church – Glen – and she never swore.

Well, there was that one time when she was helping Glen nail up the family photo. Their reasoning must have been off or something because they'd decided that Glen, the one with the unsteady hand – should hammer while she held the nail.

Yeah, not so much.

But she did apologize immediately after even though her father just smiled politely, his eyes twinkling as he held back laughter.

So, Spencer was the good girl and the pretty girl. That much we've established.

But…

There was something about Spencer Carlin that no one had been privy to – something about her that she was only just coming to realize herself. And what it was terrified her and shook the very foundation of what it was that made up the girl.

If girls were sugar and spice and everything nice then gay girls were saccharine and spicy and everything well…dyke-y.

She was a girl that liked girls. She was fairly certain now.

That could be the only explanation for why a girl her figure – size 4 people – would rush home Tuesday nights to catch _The Biggest Loser_. Jillian Michaels really got her going. Either that or she got some kind of perverse satisfaction in watching overweight people struggle for hours on end.

It was the only explanation for why she'd go to the Barnes and Noble, spend hours there, gradually inching closer and closer to the Gay & Lesbian Fiction section. She'd never actually managed to get close enough to pick up an actual book but she was working on it.

It's got to be the only explanation for her newfound devotion to online fanfiction. You've got to love that (some weird online couple pairing name).

But the number one reason she was absolutely one-hundred percent no way she could doubt it positive she was gay was…

"Hey Spencer!"

She _hated_ this dude.

"Hi," she said, halting in her steps and turning around to greet him.

The smile on her face was fake but he didn't know that – wouldn't know that. Still, he couldn't know when she still let him lean in and kiss her.

It's hard to be intuitive when you're being lied to.

"I thought you were waiting for me today," he said, tossing his head back to get his hair out of his eyes.

"Oh," she said, looking suitably contrite. "That was today?"

"Yes," he said, laughing a little at her – supposed – forgetfulness. "We were going out for pizza after school."

"Oh Patrick," she started, looking remorseful. "I don't think I can do it today. I've got that Trigonometry homework–"

"I've done it already. You can copy mine,"

"…Mom! Mom said she _really_ wanted us home right after school. She needed to talk to us about something,"

The boy's brows knitted in confusion. "But I thought your Mom would be working until midnight. At least, that's what she said last night at dinner,"

She'd forgotten he was there when she said that last night. She couldn't possibly fathom how to get out of this thing that she really didn't want to go to. She liked pizza and everything but inevitably the boy would want to make out and today she just couldn't deal with his stubble and, well, everything else _male_ about him. Plus, pizza breath is such a turn-off.

"It's that time of the month Patrick,"

Bingo.

--

She watched her brother's face scrunch in disgust as she kissed her boyfriend goodbye.

If he only knew that she felt exactly the same way it would save her a lot of trouble.

As it were she had to faux reproach him as she walked past him and Aiden, the boy's best friend.

"You could try being a little nicer to him, you know," she told him, putting a book into her backpack as the trio started off toward home.

"_You_ could try being a little nicer to him. He looked like you ran over his puppy," Glen said and Aiden snickered.

"I told him I couldn't join him for pizza,"

"Why not?" the boy asked. "Because I can practically feel my popularity dropping from walking home with you."

"I bet you think you're funny," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I'll take that bet," he said, high-fiving Aiden.

Boys.

Is it any wonder why she's gay?

"Anyway," she started, rolling her eyes. "It's none of your business why _I_ didn't go out with _my_ boyfriend. Note how I put the emphasis on 'I' and 'my'. That's to show that it has nothing to do with _you_,"

"She burned you man," Aiden said, chuckling a bit.

"Whatever," Glen murmured, clearly not enjoying the tables being turned.

The boys quickly fell into a heavy conversation about WWE or something, she wasn't sure. And she, she drifted off as she slipped on her earphones, dreaming about a day when she could finally be who she wanted to be.

Who she needed to be.

Who she _had_ to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This story is different from anything MGMK has ever written in terms of style and content. Not very much humor in this one.**

**--**

**2.**

**Friday**

**Afternoon**

He really shouldn't be out doing this.

It was too risky and he really didn't have a necessity this time.

This time it was pure _want_.

Still, something deep within compelled him to keep driving – keep searching.

Edward Mason was a man on a mission.

--

He wasn't always this way.

There used to be a time where all he had to do was steal some underwear off a clothesline or raid the garbage cans for an old, discarded pair of shoes. That was all he needed to …enjoy himself. But, eventually, the inanimate objects grew dull or worn.

They failed to maintain his interest.

--

So he moved on, and he grew more bold – choosing living objects this time. He started to covet the people the things belonged to: the women.

He'd watch them, diligently, ever vigilant.

He'd see the things they wore, the food they ate, even figured out their favorite flowers.

--

It started out innocently enough.

Rebecca Jones…

…all blonde hair and blue eyes and just…American _Dream_.

She smiled _all_ the time and she was in school – she wanted to be a veterinarian – and she even held the elevator open for him one time, which was a big deal because no one _ever_ held the elevator open for him. Some unspoken abhorrence for first floor tenants he figured.

So he watched her…from a distance, diligently. He was ever vigilant.

He learned her favorite color, her favorite food, and even her favorite movie.

So when the local theatre – styled to resemble the old style theatres where they used to show the talkies – ran _Gone with the Wind_, he took it as a sign.

It was November 12, drizzling slightly and he liked that because it was just enough moisture to smell like rain but there was no need for an umbrella.

He went to her door, dressed in his best suit – a yellow tie on because that was her favorite color.

He knocked.

She answered, her face awash in confusion.

He explained that he was her neighbor from the first floor and he had the night free and he was just wondering if maybe she would join him for dinner and a movie. And they could go to that Italian place she liked and they were running _Gone with the Wind_ and he knew that was her favorite.

But she didn't know him and she had a boyfriend and she closed the door and his eyes, his eyes clouded over, full of mirth and the sky opened up and the drizzle became rain – sheets of rain cascading on his head.

He stood there for long moments, feeling the harsh sting of rejection wash over just as slow and hot/cold as the rain.

That's when he became _angry_.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

**Friday**

**Afternoon**

Glen wasn't always the best big brother.

Like when he was eight and Spencer took a dive after falling off of the merry-go round. And instead of coming to her rescue as a big brother should, he laughed uncontrollably because mud-covered Spencer looked just like the swamp man.

Or…

There was that time where he knew she shouldn't be watching this movie. It had monsters and vampires and axe men and darkness and Spencer was the biggest chicken this side of the planet and it was just the worst idea to let her stay up and watch it knowing that it would give her nightmares. But it was just too much fun waiting for her to get in bed and then sneaking in making ghoulish sounds from the inside of her closet.

Or…

He ate all of her birthday cake – which wasn't even a good idea for him because of the pain afterward but man, she nearly flipped her shit when she found out because you really didn't _ever_ mess with Spencer and her chocolate. It was like one of the Ten Commandments or something.

But… he did have his moments.

Like when he made Kurt Browning eat dirt after he saw him push Spencer, rather violently, from the tire swing. After all, that was _his_ job.

Or…

There was that time where she came to him crying because she'd seen a hurt kitten on television and he knew she was sensitive and she liked the Care Bears and all the other frilly/fluffy things like that and it was _so_ not his thing but Mom wasn't home so he hugged her anyway, telling her it would be okay until she drifted off to sleep.

Or…

He gave her his once in a lifetime, all-time favorite, not ever gonna get another one blow pop. And sure it was his last one from his Halloween stash and he was fairly certain that – given the blow pop drought of the previous year – that was probably the last blow pop he'd ever get but she'd just come from the doctor and she had to get a shot and he hated seeing her sad so he gave it to her…very hesitantly.

So, given all the things Glen didn't do and all the things he did do, one could only be sure of one thing: he was very good at looking out for his little sister.

So…

Today was no exception.

He and Alan – his best friend – were walking home, joking with each other as per usual.

Still, Glen kept his eye on Spencer who, bored with their conversation, was walking a few feet ahead of them jamming to her iPod.

She twirled and he watched.

She skipped and he watched.

She jumped and…

_HE _watched.

--

"Spencer!" the boy yelled, sprinting as fast as he could.

By the time he registered the van the man was already out of it, darting out only to snatch her inside.

"Spencer!" he screamed again, dropping his backpack to the sidewalk careless. He saw her legs flail a little before the door was slammed.

The vehicle screeched loudly as it pulled away just a fingertip away from his reach.

He followed still – in vain.

The unmarked van turned the corner violently, picking up speed as it wove its way through traffic.

Glen stood in the middle of the intersection – full of adrenaline, panic, dread, and complete and total hopelessness.

"_SPENCER!!!!"_


	4. Chapter 4

4.

**Friday**

**Afternoon**

He'd gotten very good at this.

Over the years, he's perfected the art of snatching – of taking away something that didn't belong to him.

First it was the trinkets and gadgets from the local general stores, then he moved to personal effects from people's houses, now…

Now, he patted the bag sitting next to him, lumpy and very oddly shaped, a sadistic grin covering his mouth.

He'd become a collector and women were his trophies. He'd take them and taint them and tarnish them and then…well, what does one do with a tarnished trophy?

As he rounded the corner, Edward rolled down the driver's window tossing the girl's backpack from the moving van, leaving it lying haphazardly in a heap on the side of the road. Just a few more hours and he'd be home free.

Just a few more hours…

--

Arthur and Paula Carlin were good people.

Generally descent and God-fearing, they fought the rough and narrow road, traveling the one oft-traveled but at the same time they marched to the beat of a different drummer.

And all of this is to say they were somewhat progressive.

Paula Carlin, the woman in the family for sure, brought home the bacon so to speak. Her surgeon's job at the hospital assured this and her checkbook proved it. This isn't to say that Arthur Carlin was not a contributor. No, not at all. Arthur Carlin was a social worker, and, while the pay wasn't nearly that of his wife's, his input was making the world a better place one person at a time.

That started with his children.

They were all more than decent human beings, from Glen (loud and obnoxious but still he was unwaveringly loyal and a very caring individual), to Clay (quiet and studious but still he was very empathetic and socially conscious), to Spencer (sensitive and somewhat aloof but she put her family before most things in her life, and yes that included Glen). Yes, they'd raised some very well-rounded individuals – young adults that had a mixture of him and Paula both.

And this is what he was thinking as he waited patiently for these well-rounded individuals to get home from school. Well, two of them, Clay was away at boarding school, the genius. He didn't think much about the fact that they were running later than usual, attributing it to teen negligence more than anything else but when the doorbell rang he knew something was up.

Putting down the recipe book he'd been reading, Arthur Carlin walked over to the front door opening without so much as a second thought.

And then his entire world fell apart.

"Are you Arthur Carlin?" the one, younger, officer asked, removing his cap.

The man could do nothing but nod.

"I'm sorry to do this Sir, but I have some rather disturbing news for you…"


	5. Chapter 5

5.

**Friday**

**Evening**

These new sounds were the ones she dreaded the most.

She hated hearing the car pull into the driveway, hearing the footsteps drag up the front porch, hearing the main entry door open and close.

They were such mundane ordinary sounds but every time, every moment she heard them, she was just reminded that this living nightmare was not yet over.

"Girls, I'm home!"

And quite possibly never would be.

She shrunk back into the shadows as she heard him draw nearer.

There wasn't a lot of space to maneuver, where he had them but the basement was always dark and sometimes that served as an accomplice.

It always paid not to be the first one he saw.

"What have you been up to since I left, huh?" he asked, pulling on the pull chain for the only light in the place. "I hope you ate your dinner."

Now she tucked her legs underneath her, staring at the slop remaining in her bowl, hoping she'd ate enough.

His fingers reached into her small cage, tilting the bowl and assessing its contents.

Suddenly a light was flashing on her, heavy and bright. She squinted against the brilliance, holding her hands up weakly. "Good girl," he murmured, reaching a hand to stroke along her uncovered leg.

She fought against impulse and remained completely still, knowing it was better to do so.

Edward smiled a little then stood to his full height, speaking into the darkness. "I brought us a new friend, girls," he said, shuffling about.

She heard him move around, not able to see him anymore. She heard the sound of zippers unzipping, his grunting sounds as he exerted his strength, then she heard chains and felt her stomach drop out of her ass.

She couldn't believe he was still going out – still acquiring.

The collar she was forced to wear around her neck, the one that chained her to the wall, chaffed uncomfortably as she strained to see into the darkness.

There was a flash of white and then the empty cage beside her was full.

She looked on fearfully as Edward put on the restraints, clasping a dog collar around the neck of the new girl. He was gentle all the while, and the contrast couldn't have been further from the person he really was. He was a monster.

He was evil.

--

Hours must have gone by and still the basement was silent.

It was always the worst when someone new came in.

They'd wake up disoriented and then the images would come racing back into their mind – the capture the dread, and then they'd panic, wondering where they were.

It was the FEAR.

But he'd told them never to speak.

He told them that he was recording their every action and that he'd know if they were disobedient and…well, you didn't want to be disobedient.

But not this girl.

This girl had yet to stir and she knew this because she'd been watching.

She was surprised he put them so close together.

She knew there were others.

She knew because when it was her day to go she saw them, and they'd looked at her.

Some of them looked sad; knowing her pain. Then some of them looked relieved.

She couldn't blame them.

But he'd never kept them this close, choosing to isolate them from one another, making for more desolation and despair.

But not this time.

She was brought from her musings by the sounds of his voice, angry, and she held her breath.

It was Friday she told herself, again and again.

Bang!

It was Friday.

She heard the keys jingling.

It was Friday.

"Wednesday!" he called out and she winced, dreading that word these days more than any other in the English language.

Slowly she brought her head up – better to not ignore him.

"Is she still out?" he asked her, eyes not on her but on the new girl.

And she sighed with relief.

She slowly nodded her head, eyes on him.

"Damn it," he murmured out, frustrated. "Oh, I know."

He ran upstairs and something swelled within her. She didn't know what he was going to do but she just knew that it couldn't be good.

She knew it wouldn't be good.

After all, the FEAR was his favorite part. And this new girl had delayed his favorite part.

She pulled against her restraints getting as close to the girl as she possibly could, finding that the closest she could manage was a finger or two on her shoulder. The girl was positioned awkwardly and leaning away from her so her advantage was not great in the least.

Still, she found whatever strength she had on reserve in her body and shook the girl as violently as she could manage, trying to shake her out of the temporary coma before he came back.

The girl's body shook a couple of times, much like that of a rag doll but before too long she'd shook to hard and the girl just slumped over, still very much out of it.

His footsteps echoed on the stairs and she scooted back to her corner of the cage, the one furthest from the light.

He walked oddly and seemed to be struggling with something.

She didn't realize what it was until a few drops caught her foot and ankle, and she pulled back reflexively.

He _was_ a monster.

He _is_ evil.


	6. Chapter 6

******Super Update Thursday**

**A/N: **Hey guys, let me know what you think of this one so far if you're reading it. PM me even if you're not a review writer. Thanks.

--

**6.**

**Friday**

**Evening**

Paula Carlin was a model woman.

She held a steady job as a respected surgeon.

She was on the PTA board.

She was a respected member of God and the Greater Good Catholic Church.

She was a committed friend, loving wife, and devoted mother.

All of things are things she was and she played all of these parts well, which is to say she played none of these parts exceptionally well.

The problem with becoming well rounded is there's only so far you can go before you smooth out the edges. You can only go so far as to become good at everything, which is the same as saying you're good at nothing.

She paid attention to her children but, had she really, she'd known that Glen was struggling in school because of a learning disorder – not poor attention as she suspected.

Or, she'd have known that Clay, the heaven sent child, didn't really want to go to that boarding school, regardless of how much better it would look on college applications.

Or, she'd have known that Spencer was not just awkward with boys, she just didn't really like them all that much.

She paid attention to her husband but not really, because, if she had she'd known that he wasn't really comfortable with the move to Los Angeles to begin with.

Or, she'd know that he felt like he was failing her as a husband.

Or, she'd know that he'd been compensating for his feelings of failure by frequenting the local pub.

Yes, Paula Carlin was good at a lot of things…but she wasn't really great at any of them.

--

She answered the call on the forth ring.

"Hello," she answered, taking a moment to breathe.

"_Paula,"_

"Arthur? Arthur, what have I told you–"

"_Shut up Paula. Just…shut up,"_

She'd never heard that tone before, or maybe she had. He sounded completely lost.

"Arthur?"

"_Paula, honey, something terrible has happened…"_

She started to panic. "Is it the kids? Did something happen to them? Arthur answer me,"

"_I'm not telling you over the phone. I need to see you. Come down to the police precinct,"_

"Arthur…"

"_Paula, hurry."_

--

She imagined she broke all kinds of driving laws en route to the department, mind going a mile a minute.

It had to be bad.

It couldn't be good.

Terrible is never good.

But at least he didn't say the hospital…or the morgue.

She took comfort in that.

Paula clutched her golden crucifix in her hand, running her finger up and down the tiny emblem hanging from her necklace for solace.

He needed her God more than anything right now.

She saw Glen first.

"Mom," the boy said, rising to his feet slowly.

She looked at him, saw his face, saw that he had been crying and was not too far from doing so now.

"I'm sorry," he finally sobbed out, eyes literally bursting with tears.

She rushed to hug him, looking very much in a daze as he sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Mom. I couldn't…I couldn't," he sobbed out, clinging on for dear life and she was still too wrought with fear to think anything…to even _go_ there.

Because she knew.

She knew when she walked in and saw the boy with his head hanging down.

She knew when she saw Aiden standing there, looking worried and weary.

…

She knew when she didn't see Spencer with them.

"Paula," Arthur said, coming up behind the two.

She quickly spun around, still holding Glen. "Arthur," she started quietly, voice thick. "Where's my little girl?"

Arthur just deflated then, shaking his head sadly.

"Where's Spencer?"

Arthur slowly walked over to them, wrapping them in a huge and strong embrace, holding on as tightly as he could.

And Paula…Paula Carlin wasn't even _good_ at this part anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

**Friday **

**Evening**

Ice.

That's the first thing that came to her mind when she woke up.

She felt as though someone had buried her in ice.

She sputtered relentlessly as she came to, hacking up the freezing water from inside her lungs.

It was dark but she couldn't really see much from blinking the water out of her eyes. She tried to move but her hands kept meeting wet cement and something tethered at her, pulling her back.

She moved right and bumped into something.

She moved left and bumped into something.

Finally, she slowed, her body temperature returning to somewhat normal and that's when she heard it:

The shrill cackling.

She blinked her eyes open wide…

…and screamed.

She screamed as loud and as hard as she dared, screamed until she had no breath left, screamed until her throat got raw and scratchy and ached from it.

But she still screamed.

And he laughed.

He laughed long and hard, screaming with her at times.

It was his favorite part – the FEAR.

"Are you done yet?" he asked her, looking maniacal at best.

She tried to scream some more but found she couldn't, finally acknowledging the tears on her face.

"You can keep going – go on for hours. No one's going to here you. Well, no one except me," he said, rushing up to her cage suddenly and hitting the front of it violently. "And I _hate_ noise!"

She shrank back here, figuring out that he was unpredictable at best. She hugged her legs to her frame, still wearing her jeans and tee. The tears were falling freely now, and now she thought she should try. Now she could try and appeal to the better nature in him.

Her mom always told her that some people were bad – wickedly bad – but there was always that little bit of good. God only created one entirely evil creature and he lived in the depths of hell.

No, every person walking this planet had within them the possibility to be good – to do good. So, she clung to this belief and it was her new hope.

Her only hope.

"Please, s-s-sir. I…I'm only sixteen," she pleaded, forcing her words against her rough throat and through her tears. "I…I want to go home. Please…I won't tell anyone. Just let me go home."

Edward looked a little rattled for a moment, pitying her maybe. She looked so much like Rebecca.

Rebecca…his first.

Blonde hair and blue eyes…and…and…

It wasn't there anymore.

Whenever he thought of her now it just fueled the hatred within him and his temper flared with a vengeance.

He lunged forward at her, dropping to his knees and gripping her cage like he was the one who couldn't get out.

"You think I care, huh?" he mocked, cocking his head to the side. "I _don't _ care. I don't care who you are or where you came from. I don't care who knew you or who knows you. _None_ of that matters anymore, _okay_. Little. Girl. You are mine, get it? Mine. And that is all I _need_ to know."

Spencer curled in on herself, shaking and hugging herself even tighter, feeling like she was going to throw up. The man looked so evil just then, so sadistically evil that she was sure her mother was wrong.

There was no _good_ in this man.

He pushed away from her cage, banging it once again before standing up slowly, keeping her eyes on her. "You remember that," he told her, eyes looking as soulless as ever.

She cried freely now, not even making sounds, just unsure if her eyes would ever be dry again. It struck her then, the desolation the despair – the final stage of the FEAR.

She had to know then – needed to know – how this was all going to be. What exactly was going to go down?

She had some ideas – dreadful ideas – but…

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked him, voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

Edward paused on the steps, looking back across at her. "You don't _even_ want to know little girl. Trust me," he said, his voice eerily calm, a small inscrutable yet decidedly sinister smile on his lips. "You do not want to know."


	8. Chapter 8

8.

**Friday**

**Evening**

She knew the rules.

They had been ingrained in her through numerous encounters and punishments both witnessed and experienced.

She knew better.

It was the only way to survive this place: complete subservience, always hoping that maybe he'd suffer a massive heart attack or that maybe he'd slip up and someone would catch him or that maybe, just maybe, her mother was out there burning down the world and trying to find her.

That was a pretty big maybe as her mother wasn't too keen to follow through on anything, even if it was the disappearance of her very own daughter.

Still, Wednesday had learned to play the game – _his_ game.

And she was certain that was the only reason she was still here.

Still…

The girl – the new girl – was shaking and cold and miserable and crying and her heart broke, what was left of it just _broke_ for the girl because those words, those ominous words, she'd heard them before.

She heard them just before he slammed his bedroom door behind the both of them…

…heard them just before she bit her lip to hold back the tears.

…heard them as she closed her eyes when she finally couldn't hold them back anymore.

No, this new girl really didn't want to know what was _going_ to happen to her because the knowing was the worst part.

Still…

She wasn't evil and even though she felt ashamed, worthless, and even less of a human being than she'd ever felt in her life, she still had some good in her.

Still.

"Hey," she whispered, somehow managing to find her voice. It'd been too many days since she'd used it.

Too many.

The girl's head whipped around only just now realizing that she wasn't alone. Her blue eyes, even in the blackness of this basement, shone bright and startled, she looked on, too afraid to do much else.

And Wednesday didn't say anything else, just covered up as best she could, still in the nightgown she was wearing the night he took her. It was torn now, in very unfortunate places, but she loved the thing.

Loved it more than anything she imagined because it was the only thing that kept her tethered to the old her, the one out there in the real world, the one not existing in this horribly disgusting nightmare.

She slowly brought a hand to her face, holding a finger up to her lips, silently telling the other girl to keep quiet.

The new girl nodded, understanding. She tilted her head, eyes red-rimmed from crying but now looking curiously and asking so many unspoken questions.

She had no idea what she would ask had their roles been reversed.

In hindsight, she might ask about the man, about his behaviors.

Learn his routine to gain some kind of advantage, some upper hand.

She'd figure out what made him happy and what set him off… anything to avoid the punishments.

Anything.

But the new girl, _this_ new girl, didn't want to know any of that.

At least, not right away.

No, _this_ new girl tilted her head, eyes burning into eyes, not even breathing loudly because she knew to keep quiet, but _this _new girl only had one question…

"What's your name?" she whispered, still hugging her legs to herself.

Wednesday tensed, remembering the last time someone had asked her that.

_He _had asked her that right before _he_ decided that _he_ liked her on Wednesdays.

She almost said it right then. She almost told the new girl her name was Wednesday and the very thought of that made her sick. Had she really gone that low?

Had she really become such a weak and dependent little girl that she owned that deplorably given name?

It nearly made her vomit on the spot, but she didn't. Instead, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she realized that no; no she hadn't become that person.

Not yet.

"Ashley," she said, her voice steely quiet. "My name is Ashley."


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

**Friday**

**Evening**

He was a living and breathing statue.

He was sure of it now. He just felt so numb, so unbelievably numb, and it had been this way ever since he'd gotten the news.

They called him right away and he was more than surprised when they came and pulled him out of his sixth period class.

All he knew was that he was needed in the Headmaster's office and that _he_ wasn't in trouble.

But…

Something started growing in the pit of his stomach and stayed there and settled, even as he sat waiting in the receptionist's office, even when they finally sat him down and told him there'd been an emergency at home and the school was making arrangements to get him home as soon as possible, even as he sat on the plane, headed home for the first time in over five months.

It grew even more when his parents weren't there to pick him up, when, in their place, two plains clothes detectives drove him home.

It reached its climaxed as he pulled into their driveway and he was nearly losing it when he finally rushed up the steps.

He walked in and noted the quiet house. His dad was there, talking quietly with another detective.

Patrick and Aiden were there, looking completely worn and lost.

His brother raised his head and didn't even blink, looking through him at best.

Then his mother opened her arms, giving him a hug that was not a welcome. It was a solace hug and she whispered into his ear, very gently, very quietly. "Spencer's missing. She's been taken."

He pushed her away; trying to somehow comprehend what she was saying yet understanding immediately at the same time.

Someone took Spencer, someone had his sister…and he wasn't there. He wasn't here to save her.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't draw in a single breath.

And the world started spinning, and the walls closed in on him and that thing, that thing that'd been growing in his stomach finally let go and he let it out, vomiting the entire contents of his stomach upon the floor.

--

That was some time ago now.

Now, Clay sat rigid, unmoving, very much like a statue as the detectives questioned them again and again about what could have happened.

Was there anyone who wanted to harm you?

No.

Do you owe anyone money or anything like that?

No.

Had Spencer gotten into any trouble at school? Had she been hanging out with the wrong crowd?

No, to both.

He sat across from Glen, still, stock still.

"I'm going to be honest with you both," the one detective started. "This isn't looking very good."

The other detective looked down at his notepad, not willing to look them in the eyes for this.

His mom grasped his dad's hands desperately, needing that one thing, needing his comfort and strength more than she needed to breathe.

"Unless we get more information…" he trailed off, not needing to say more.

His mom just dispirited, her entire body sagging with the weight of sheer and pure hopelessness.

There was literally _nothing_ they could do.

--

Glen shook his head slowly, muttering to himself.

The detectives had long since left. They were going to see if they could pick up anything from the video surveillance near the intersection where Glen last saw the van.

Their mom and dad had retired to the office where they set to the heavy task of calling family and neighbors, telling them what had happened.

He set about calling everyone he knew, sent out Facebook and Twitter alerts to look out for her, anything he could do to help, because time was something that they did not have on their side.

It was the only way he knew how to deal. He couldn't sit idly by and whine forever.

That was not going to bring his sister back.

Glen muttered again and Aiden told him to "Stop saying that."

Then the boy exploded. "Don't tell me to stop, man!"

He spun around from the computer, the noise startling him.

Patrick stood too, noticing the blonde boy's quaking. "Glen, calm down."

Glen groaned, rolling his eyes and punching the wall, hard. "Stop saying that to me! Just…stop!"

Aiden looked on, unsure of what to do.

"It's all my fault. I mean…I should've run faster…"

"Glen–"

"I should've walked with her. Mom always – _always_ – always said to walk together,"

Clay stood too. "Glen…"

"I'm sorry Clay," the boy said miserably, his wet eyes looking at the other boy. "I…oh God. Why didn't I? She was right there…"

Clay moved to him and Glen turned suddenly, hitting the living room wall so hard his fist went right through. "And now some pervert has her and I can't…I can't even help her. I mean, I'm her big brother and I can't even…_help _her…"

Clay grabbed him, wrapping his arms around the sobbing boy from behind. "It's not your fault Glen," he whispered to him, hanging on tight as the boy lurched violently.

"Let me go Clay,"

"It's not your fault,"

"Clay," he tried to deliver it in a warning tone, but it just fell flat.

"Glen. It's not your fault,"

Finally Glen just let go, let it all out of him. He'd been so strong, so angry, but finally he just gave it up.

"We're going to get her back, Glen. I promise you that and when we do, that bastard's gonna rue the day he ever laid a finger on our sister."

--

**Review please**


	10. Chapter 10

******A/N: Hey guys, remember feedback = love and don't forget to pick out your favorite Fifty First Times one shots and send them to me via review, message, whatever. I don't want to leave anybody out.**

**--**

**10.**

**Saturday**

**Morning**

"C'mon girl! At least try to keep up!"

Kelly was not enjoying these new morning jogs her best friend had implemented.

She didn't really see the point.

Sure, being healthy and stuff was cool or whatever, but when you had the metabolism of a two-year-old you didn't really need the exercise.

And, since she had the metabolism of a two-year-old, she didn't really need the exercise.

She jogged up the hill, panting in earnest.

"Isn't this fun?" Carmen asked her, taking a moment to stretch as they stood alongside the road.

Kelly doubled over, taking in air like she'd been drowning or something. She wasn't _that_ out of shape but she was an avid smoker.

Kelly rolled her eyes, not even finding the joy in it. "I need a cigarette."

Carmen looked at her. "You can hardly breathe to talk and when you finally do talk you tell me you want to cut off your clean air supply by willingly inhaling nicotine and a host of other toxins?"

Kelly looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes."

"Fine. Suck on your death stick. See if I care," Carmen said, flippantly, reaching into her backpack to pull out a bottle of water.

Kelly grinned and looped an arm around her friend's neck. "Oh I know you care pumpkin," she cooed teasingly, reaching into her own pocket for her cigarettes and lighter.

Only, she had no lighter.

"Where's my lighter?"

"Ha ha," Carmen laughed, pointing at her. "You left your lighter," she sing-songed.

Kelly rolled her eyes at the girl. "Not even. I had a smoke before we started this thing. It must have fallen out of my pocket or something."

"Okay, well…"

Kelly looked at her.

"What?" Carmen asked.

"Come with me so I can find it. You wanted to go running up and down deserted roads. There might be a psycho or something out here,"

"God," Carmen groaned, capping the water bottle. "You're such a baby, sometimes."

--

"Found it," Carmen said, holding up the gleaming object.

"Thank God," Kelly mumbled, running over from where she was looking.

Carmen flipped the thing at her and Kelly ran her hand over the lighter. It looked a lot like hers but, sadly, it wasn't.

Not that it mattered or anything.

She took out her smokes and lit up, taking a long, refreshing drag.

"Ah…"

"Hey!" Carmen called out, catching her attention again. "Check it out!"

Kelly walked over and saw it – a backpack. It looked pretty random out there on the side of the road.

Of all the objects cast aside – broken bottles, empty beer cans, a few condom wrappers – it was the one thing that was completely out of place.

"I wonder who it belongs to," Carmen said, moving to pick up one of the folders that were nearly falling out of the thing.

Kelly couldn't really care less, more into her cigarette at the moment. "Probably some runaway," she said casually, shrugging.

"Spencer Carlin…" Carmen read from one of the papers inside the pink folders. "…Pretty gay looking folder for a boy."

Kelly felt something tug at the back of her head, like a long forgotten memory that was trying to become clear.

"And he writes funny too..."

"Shut up," she hissed, startling Carmen. "I'm thinking."

Spencer Carlin.

Now, where had she heard that name before?

Spencer.

There was a girl…

Carlin.

She had been taken…

Spencer Carlin.

Kelly gasped, smacking the folder out of Carmen's hand.

"What the hell Kelly?" Carmen looked suitably contrite.

"Oh my God. We _have_ to call the cops."


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

**Saturday**

**Morning**

She'd finally witnessed firsthand what was going to happen to her.

It was the cruelest kind of orientation imaginable she thought and he got some kind of sick satisfaction from all of it, she knew.

And while she knew this man was nothing short of a monster, she still couldn't believe that someone could be so cruel as to do those things…do those things and enjoy them.

The day she was taken – that night – he didn't come down again.

That night, she sat there and stared for hours at nothing and then the girl, the one right next to her, she spoke to her and Spencer felt so…she felt so…relieved.

The girl looked pale, and frail, and…well, she looked broken, but she was alive and that alone brought Spencer such an overwhelming sense of relief that she almost cried.

The girl, Ashley, wouldn't say much though, even as she begged for more information, even as she pleaded to know more about their shared situation.

Ashley only shook her head, pointing to the stairs and then holding a finger to her lips and Spencer understood.

She got it.

No talking.

Period.

That was _his_ first rule and he enforced it with reckless abandon.

She didn't even think she'd be able to fall asleep that night, but her body was weary and that fact, along with the fact that she was not alone in this terrible happening lulled her into slumber, holding Ashley's gaze until she couldn't any more.

--

Her peace was short-lived.

That morning, a Saturday, he came downstairs bright and early, grinning from ear to ear.

"Morning girls," he said brightly, and they all roused, instantly startled. "Guess what?" he asked, rhetorically and they all knew better to answer. "Today is initiation day," he drawled, looking directly at Spencer.

She shrank back, immediately afraid and feeling her eyes tear up again.

She glanced over at the girl, Ashley, and saw that she had the same look of terror, and she didn't quite understand.

What was he going to do?

"Which one of you lovely ladies wants to volunteer?" Edward asked, setting to the task of filling up their feeding bowls and water bottles. "Monday?" he ventured, leering somewhere off in the distance and he heard a girl whimper pathetically.

Her breathing stopped.

"No?" he questioned, walking over to the sound. "But we had so much fun last time, didn't we?" he asked her, softly, before chuckling.

Spencer wanted to vomit.

"Oh, I guess not then. I _was_ a little too rough on you," he said, walking slowly, his feet shuffling along the dirty floor.

Suddenly he was in front of Ashley's cage, staring at her intently. "How about you Wednesday? Want to show the new girl how it's done?"

Ashley turned her face away from his, just slightly and he reached inside her cage, grabbing her face roughly.

Spencer looked on as he held her face, peering at it intently as if searching for something. Then just as suddenly he let her go without another word.

"Well, good news for you Friday, since the new girl wouldn't wake up in time, we missed our little session yesterday. See, I was disappointed and you know how I hate disappointments…"

He walked over to another area of the basement and, after many chains and locks were unchained and unlocked, he dragged a girl out. From her position on the floor she couldn't see much, but that would soon be rectified.

"So, Friday," he said, shoving the girl to the ground violently, right in front of Spencer's cage. "Your new name is Saturday," he gritted out against the girl's ear and Spencer saw the girl grimace violently to hold her tongue.

She wanted to cry and she wanted to scream, but she held back, not willing to give him the satisfaction maybe.

He held "Saturday" by her hair, and Spencer couldn't breathe, watching them both.

"And new girl…you're Friday."

--

He made her watch.

He made her watch all of it.

And she tried to…she really did.

But there are some things that she couldn't see, and watching that poor girl's spirit being broken down little by little was one of them.

So…

There was a point, nearing the end, where she closed her eyes, just for a second she closed them.

But that second was all it took and he was on his feet in no time, roughly withdrawing from the silently tortured girl.

Her face screwed in pain as he roughly pulled her up, chaining her quickly and taking her back to the area in the basement where he got her from.

Spencer couldn't see any more and she turned to Ashley who had the better vantage point and the girl's eyes told her all she needed to know.

This wasn't right – as if any of it even was – but this was not how it was supposed to go.

Something had happened.

Then, Edward was at her cage, fiddling with the keys, and quaking with anger.

He couldn't even speak and she could see how red he was.

She'd broken one of his rules.

She looked back and forth from him to Ashley and saw the other girl's body was rigid with alarm.

That's when she started screaming again.

"The insolence!" he shouted, finally managing to get her cage open. The door swung outward, and he held her down, as she was now frantic, desperate to keep him away from her. She wasn't sure what was about to happen but she knew it couldn't be good.

"You little bitch!" he yelled, striking her hard as he unlocked her collar. "I told you…I told you to fucking watch!"

Spencer yelped loudly as he struck her again, splitting her lip. "You think this is a game?!" he roared, dragging her out of the cage by her legs. She tried kicking, she tried hitting, but it was no use. He was stronger than her, much stronger, and he kept her face at a distance as he placed the gag around her mouth.

"So," he panted, sitting on top of her as he writhed beneath her. He handcuffed her wrists together. "You want to learn the hard way?" he asked her, enjoying this more than anyone should.

She whimpered pathetically, not even caring about the rules or anything else at the moment. She just wanted him off of her, quickly.

She should have just watched.

It couldn't have been that bad.

It had to be better than this.


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**

**Saturday**

**Morning**

Ashley watched, afraid, as he dragged the new girl out by her ankles as the girl hollered and screamed the whole time.

She clawed at his face and kicked her feet wildly, not knowing it was all for naught.

The man was disbelievingly strong, deceptively so and resistance was pretty much futile.

She learned that early on too.

She watched the new girl struggle fruitlessly as he very patiently handcuffed her wrists and placed the gag around her mouth to drown out the screaming.

Ashley covered her ears and closed her eyes when she heard the sound of fabric rustling.

She didn't want to see this again.

You only had to watch it once – one time and then it was your turn.

But, she couldn't see this girl, this new girl, break.

She just couldn't…

Again, she felt something settle within her and the sobs penetrated the barrier her hands had over her ears and all she could hear were the girl's muffled cries and pleas and Edward's grunts and…

"STOP!"

It was deadly quiet in the basement now; the only sounds were the joint breathing of the girl and _him_, a little weary after their shared struggle.

He looked at her, quiet awe the only term that could be used to describe his face.

And Ashley's chest was heaving so rapidly now, and she was breathing so quickly she thought she might die, but she forged on.

"Please, stop," she carried on, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her to shut up. It was too late now anyway. "I'll…" she swallowed back. "I'll help you _that_ way. But…she doesn't deserve it," she said, playing it his way.

"What are you saying Wednesday?" he asked her, still on top of the other girl, not following.

Ashley looked at the girl then and a billion words were shared in the expanse of only a few seconds but she knew, she just knew, she was doing the right thing. "She's been a bad girl. She deserves to be punished, not…_rewarded_."

--

The girl's eyes stayed on Ashley's, not sure what to make of what was happening, but she knew that she was being spared and that Ashley was trying to take her place.

Edward shifted, nodding once at Ashley. "You're right. She _does_ need to be punished," he sneered, standing up and viciously lifting the girl by her handcuffed arms. "You hear that Friday? Wednesday thinks you should be punished," he whispered hot against the girl's face.

Ashley held her gaze and the girl's gaze melted into one of gratitude, because even she knew what it meant to trade places. She knew firsthand what Ashley would be forced to endure, and she was enduring it willingly for her.

"Okay then. Time for the ice box," he said, escorting her over to the stairs, being somewhat gentler than he'd ever been with her. "I'll be back for you Wednesday."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Triple post because it's time to kick this sh...stuff up.**

**--**

**13.**

**Saturday**

**Late Night**

"Whoa, you're still here?"

Detective Cody Roy looked up from his notes at his partner. "Yeah. I can't get my head around this Carlin thing."

Detective James Johnson sat on the corner of his partner's desk, picking up a file. "We got no leads, Roy. The family's got squat. The school's got squat. No one saw anything and that videotape caught a white, unmarked van with no plates. We got nothing,"

Roy knew that, but he was missing something. There was something he was missing.

Every crime had a beginning, middle, and end. Every problem had a solution.

They just had to know where to look.

"What did that Aiden kid say?" he asked suddenly, recalling something from their line of questioning.

"Who's that? The brother?"

"Nah, the other kid. The kid who was with the brother. He said the guy walked with a limp, a heavy limp," he said, pulling out his notepad and underlining the fact again.

"So?"

"On that tape. There was a man that came into the store, remember?"

Detective Johnson's eyes lit up with recognition. "The gimpy guy with the grape soda deficiency," he said, jumping up immediately.

"Let's go take another look at that tape."

--

"_911 dispatch, what's your emergency?"_

"Yes, hi. We didn't know who to call. My friend and I were jogging and we found this backpack. We think it may belong to that girl…" Kelly said, sharing a look with Carmen. "That girl that got kidnapped."

"_Okay, where are you?" _

--

The Carlins and the boys (Glen, Clay, Patrick, and Aiden) stayed up for as long as they could, surfing the web, posting information any and every place that seemed appropriate.

They rang doorbells and talked to neighbors asking about suspicious vans and suspicious people, asking if they'd seen anything really.

They did this all night Friday, and all day Saturday, finally shutting down on Saturday night.

Glen thought it'd be a good idea to search the archives on America's Most Wanted, perusing profiles and seeing if anyone looked like the shady guy that was just a shadow in his mind.

He didn't really get the best look at him, more concerned with getting to his sister…but Aiden had.

Aiden observed a lot in those short moments, and that man's face was and would be forever etched in his memory.

So, while it was a long shot, they still sat in front of the computer screen, eyes frozen as the PowerPoint showed picture after picture after picture…

But their eyes grew weary…and the body after such an adrenaline rush simply couldn't maintain any longer and they all very quietly yet very assuredly drifted off to sleep, the PowerPoint presentation still idly going by.

So when Edward Mason's picture flashed onto the screen there was no one awake to see it.


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

**Saturday**

**Afternoon**

He didn't really enjoy this part but it was the only way to exert his control and he couldn't have that.

He didn't want to go _back_ to jail.

So, when the girls disobeyed…

"Take off your clothes,"

…They'd have to pay.

She just stood there, free from any restraints, but he stood there too, holding a shotgun, pointing it directly at her.

She didn't have much of a choice.

"Take them off," he repeated, not yelling because he couldn't be too loud.

They were outside after all, but with the makeshift tent he had set up, and keeping her blindfolded until she got here, she had no way of knowing that.

The blonde girl slowly stripped, lifting off her shirt, crying all the while.

"Hurry up Friday, I don't have all day,"

She dropped her pants quicker and paused, hooking her fingers in her panties.

"Underwear too?"

He should have said yes, but, he couldn't…

There was just something about…this girl.

"No. You're fine," he barked out, motioning for her to turn around. "You're fine."

She breathed out a sigh of relief, but then her breath picked up considerably as he grabbed her arm, forcing her further into the tent.

Her body shivered as the temperature dropped considerably, or maybe that was just her proximity to _him_.

Whatever it is, he didn't pay it much mind as he unceremoniously opened the shed's door, shoving her inside carelessly.

She slid on the icy floor, somehow managing to keep her balance.

Now, he knew, now she would understand.

"This is where the bad girls go. This is where the ones who don't obey me go," he said, his voice menacing and his breath clouding in the cold place. "Slip your hands into the trap," he told her, pointing the gun at an ancient Sumerian vice grip. It constricted in cold temperatures, retracted when heat was applied to it.

She gasped as the metal rings closed tightly around her wrists, nearly breaking them he figured.

But she had to learn.

She _had_ to.

Because he didn't want to have to kill her.

He didn't want to have to…

He drew back a curtain, exposing his handiwork to the girl.

But he would.

She screamed at the top of her lungs when she saw the bodies, completely frozen and stiff.

Some of them were bloodied…

Some of them were just pieces of a person piled together…

But all of them were his.

"I _own _you Friday," he whispered menacingly into the shed, and even though she was screaming she heard every word. He knew it.

"And don't you forget it."

Edward hummed a little number to himself as he walked out of the shed, leaving her screaming helplessly, not aware of her fate.

And _that_ was the way he liked it.


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

**Saturday **

**Late Night**

She always felt empty afterward.

When he was done with them, he always was nice, his own sense of gentlemanly behavior she assumed.

But she always felt empty.

Every time she'd just lie there, beneath him, trying to disconnect from what was happening because then she could breathe, then it wouldn't hurt so much.

She'd lay back, eyes focused on the ceiling fan as it whirred around and around and around, and she'd distract herself by counting the rotation of the blades. It was easy to do so because _he_ must've bought the store model and neglected to make all the blades the same color.

So she'd focus on the lone white blade in amongst the oak and just watch it and try and forget, forget, forget…

Finally, he led her back downstairs, back into the solace of her makeshift cell.

He always let them take their own clothes off and put them back on.

He always had them shower afterwards.

She assumed it was because even that idiot knew that physical evidence was a condemning factor.

But, that was wishful thinking, because like the blonde girl, she'd been inside the ice box.

And like the new girl, she'd seen _them_.

"Back inside Wednesday," he barked at her, back to form.

She mechanically crawled in, willingly. He secured her to the wall again, holding the water bottle out for her to take.

She felt the bile rise up into her throat but she took it anyway, her body curling in on itself.

"_If_ you see Friday again, make sure you tell her how good it was," he said, coming back to full height.

She looked across the way at the empty cage next to hers, wondering just how pissed off the new girl would be at her.

If at all.

After all, anything was better than _that_.

He very slowly climbed the stairs, mumbling out a "Good night girls," before the silence settled in again.

But…

Something was different about tonight, she couldn't really explain.

Usually, when he retired after leaving them, there'd be a collective sigh and gradually it would grow quieter and quieter as each girl fell asleep.

But not tonight.

Tonight the room felt like it was electric, buzzing somehow even in the quiet.

She sat up, peering into the shadows, feeling eyes on her.

Finally, "Why'd you do that?"

Ashley was very still, afraid to even breathe.

They'd never spoken to each other.

Those were the rules, _his_ rules and they'd be foolish to break them.

"I'm talking to you, _Wednesday_," the girl said, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind.

Ashley didn't dare speak.

That guy was unstable at best and completely capable of ending them all without thinking twice.

He'd proven consistently how easy it was to get more of them.

"Hey, this is stupid," the only girl speaking started up again. "How would he even know we were speaking, huh?"

"Shut up," Ashley heard someone else say, very quickly and sounding very pained. "He's gonna get mad."

"I don't care," the first girl said, and Ashley could tell now that she was the girl he called Monday. "I'd rather die than _be_ with him again anyway," she muttered, sounding like they all felt.

"Well, I'd rather _not_ die, if you don't mind," the second girl said, Sunday maybe, but the first girl had sobering news for all of them.

"Look," she started, her voice not as brash as before. "I've been here the longest of any of you. I've seen him take girls upstairs and never come back. What do you think he's doing with them?" she asked, not really expecting an answer. "You think he's just driving them back home? Newsflash girls: We're _never_ getting out of here. Not alive anyway. The sooner you get that through your heads the better."

"I don't want to die," the only girl aside from Ashley, Friday, finally broke down and spoke.

They all were hushed again, the last two statements having a somewhat sobering effect on them all.

Ashley sat straight up, holding onto the front of her cage tightly, finding a strength she knew she always possessed and finally, she spoke.

"My name is not Wednesday..."

"I know," the first girl said, her voice wavering a little. "What is your name?" she asked her, peering into the darkness, and Ashley could just barely make out her face.

"Ashley," she said, her voice very low and breaking on every syllable seemingly. "My name is Ashley."

--

She knew their names now, and somehow that made it better.

For some reason it seemed a little easier.

"So Ashley," the girl formerly known as Monday – now Madison – started, shifting in her holding space. "Why'd you do that for that girl?"

"I…I don't really know," she said, really having very little clue as to why she'd sacrificed herself. "She just looked so scared you know and he's… well, you know how he is."

Madison nodded, swallowing thickly. "That was really nice."

"Brave," the other girl, Saturday a.k.a. Kyla, added.

Ashley shrugged, not really knowing what to say in that moment. It was weird to be talking anyway.

They'd spent so many hours, days, weeks being perfectly quiet that it was a bit of a shock to actually speak.

"I could never be that brave," Kyla continued, whispering almost.

They grew brazen as the night wore on, and spoke more freely, with abandon almost. But they always managed to avoid getting to heavy, keeping it light, speaking of past lives.

Lives before all of this.

"I really think we should be quiet guys," Chelsea, the girl they knew as Sunday, said. She was fearful because if he woke up angry, she'd be the first to be reckoned with.

It was her day tomorrow after all.

"I think we're fine. I mean, we've been talking all this while and he hasn't come down. As a matter of fact, I've been trying to come up with an escape plan," Madison said, whispering now.

"Stop it," Kyla warned, still wary about which subjects they were to traverse. "Maybe he's recording us. Maybe he's watching and listening and just waiting for us to slip up."

"Better to be prepared then, right?" Madison asked, answered by silence. "Come on Ashley," she said, staring where she knew the girl was. "I know _we_ can do it."

Ashley shook her head. "I'm not that brave."

"FUCK!"

All of the girls jumped then, shrinking back into the corners of their cages. They heard noises upstairs.

Very loud noises.

Light spilled into the basement as He trudged down the stairs looking absolutely livid.

He flipped on every light switch and pull available to him, flooding the dark, dank basement with light.

Standing in the middle of that basement, Ashley never thought he looked scarier.

Even when he was beating her.

Even when he poured freezing water over the new girl.

Even when he climbed on top of her, _enjoying_ himself.

No, Edward looked livid standing in the middle of that basement, eyes searching frantically, scrutinizing each and every one of them.

"Okay," he said, running his tongue slowly over his teeth. "Where… the hell… is she?"

--

**Review. It's good for you.**


	16. Chapter 16

**16.**

**Saturday**

**Morning**

"This is definitely Spencer's," Glen said, telling the detective once more, as they pulled yet another item from her backpack.

Clay sat with their parents, nursing a cup of coffee as they waited for Glen to finish identifying Spencer's belongings.

"What about this?" Detective Johnson asked, holding up an evidence bad containing a chrome flip-top lighter.

Glen's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "That's not Spencer's."

Detective Johnson and Roy shared a look, Roy finally putting out his cigarette. "You sure, son?"

"Pretty damn sure," Glen said, nodding his head slowly. "Spencer doesn't smoke. What? Like, you guys found that in her bag?"

"Don't worry about it," Detective Johnson said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You did good, kid. You did real good."

Glen was lead out of the room, leaving the two men to brainstorm.

"This thing needs to go back to forensics, pronto," Roy said, grabbing the lighter. "We could lift some prints off of it."

Johnson called up to TECH, wondering if they got a decent image from the video yet. "Hurry up on that damn video," he seethed into the receiver. "My fucking witness is gonna have Alzheimer's at the rate you're going!" Roy couldn't help but chuckle at his partner. "Alzheimer's? Really?"

"Hey," Johnson shrugged. "You want results. I get 'em. That's how we work."

The atmosphere quickly turned somber though, as was the case with missing victims. Roy scratched the back of his head, looking out at the family anxiously sitting on the other side of that door.

"We're working on day two, Jimmy. It's never good after two,"

Johnson sucked his teeth. "Nah, she's still out there. I can feel it. She's out there and we're gonna bring her back to those people sitting right there."

"I hope so," Roy said, standing up to brief the Carlins on their status again. "I hope so."

--

He was beyond panicking now.

All of his planning.

"Where?!" he yelled, kicking over a bucket, sending sawdust flying through the air.

All of his careful crafting, building.

"Tell me!" he barked, hitting his fist off the front of Friday's cage, hard. "Fucking tell me!"

The girl scrambled for cover, his bewildered state frightening her even more because she didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

All of his meticulous creating and collecting, staying hidden, mastering the art of elusion.

It was all crumbling around him because…because…

"Because of that girl!" he roared, shattering one of their feeding bowls. "Where the fuck is she?!"

All of the girls were frantic, startled and they kept shifting which only put him more on edge. He was rapidly losing it, and they weren't doing much to help him keep it.

"Ugh!" he groaned, moving over to Wednesday's cage. "You! Out now!" he yelled, pulling on her and tearing her cage door open without even disengaging the locks. He was just that angry.

She yelped as he pulled her by the hair, putting his mouth to her ear. "I _know_ you know where she is," he told her, swallowing thickly. His voice was no more than a murmur, only for her ears.

"I heard all of you talking to her," he said now, much louder, getting all of their attention. "And when I find her…oh, you girls can just forget it. And God help me!" he yelled, shoving Wednesday back into her cage ferociously, leaving her captive by only the collar on her neck. "When I fucking find you Friday, you're dead! You hear me?! You're dead!"

He threw something else at the wall, shattering it into tiny pieces before storming up the stairs again, calling out for her.

**--**

Madison waited until his yells sounded distant enough to speak. "I fucking told you."

"He's been bluffing this whole time," Chelsea whispered, the distance of his voice and the recent revelation putting her enough at ease to speak.

"I can't believe it," Kyla said, shaking her head.

"Well, no time to pity ourselves. Let's figure out how to get out of here," Madison said, keeping her voice somewhat quiet.

"My cage is open," Ashley said, noting the banged in door. She couldn't believe he'd pried it loose so easily. She'd tried pulling on the thing her first night there and those chains wouldn't move a centimeter.

Madison peered across and sure enough, Ashley's cage was wide open. So open she could see the girl's toes.

"Alright girl, well get on up and let us out of here," Madison said, rattling her door a little for emphasis.

Ashley swallowed hard, wondering if she could even say it without feeling pathetic. "I'm…I'm uh, I still have the collar on."

Madison nodded across the way. "Yeah, I know."

"He treats us like animals," Chelsea whispered.

"Cut that shit out," Madison said, stopping all of it before it started. "We're not animals okay? We're just very decent people in a _very_ fucked up situation, but, whatever he tried to make us, we're not _that_. We're people, okay? I'm Madison, and you're Chelsea, and you're Kyla, and _you're_ Ashley."

Before they could progress any further, the basement went pitch black again.


	17. Chapter 17

**17.**

**Saturday**

**Late Afternoon**

She couldn't believe it worked.

When he left her there, she was certain he saw the way her eyes lit up with opportunity.

She just knew he saw through her façade, her tears. The screams were real, very real, especially when she saw the bodies, but if she could just convince him – just one time – she could maybe…maybe…see the light at the end of the tunnel.

And there it was.

He closed the door on her, leaving her in the freezing ice shack, closing off the light.

And she kept screaming, kept screaming until she had no voice, kept screaming until she was certain enough minutes had gone by and she was certain he was no longer there.

Spencer literally screamed for her life.

Then…

She remembered.

"_This was a torture device used by the ancient Sumerians. It's a rather indestructible metal alloy and it reacts amazingly to temperature._

"_It constricts drastically to cooler temperature and straining against its shape only makes the bond tighter, but watch what happens when you apply a little bit of heat…"_

_Mr. Brenner barely set the metal ring over the Bunsen burner and rapidly the metal retracted, its diameter almost tripling in size._

"_Cool, huh?"_

Very.

Spencer took in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs before blowing on the chilled rings, feeling them loosen considerably.

She took a second breath, holding it longer this time and blowing it out slowly, working her left wrist free. Two more breaths and she was free and now, she waited.

She knew it would be a risky move.

There was a very real possibility that he'd come back, find that she'd managed to get free, discover her and shoot her dead, leaving her to bleed out in an icy tomb.

He could also come in and not find her but smartly lock the door, and she would surely freeze, nearly naked and still wet from before.

She kept warm, shuffling around, exerting a little muscle every now and again.

She just knew she had to keep moving, keep the body going, keep her blood flowing.

Finally, after long hours it seemed, she'd settled, thinking that she was going to be there forever.

She was too much trouble for him and he'd opted to just let her freeze to death.

She almost panicked, stuck in a wooden ice box with dead things and dying things all around her, but then she heard it…faint enough to be a pin drop, loud enough to stop her breathing instantaneously.

His heavy footfalls reached her ears and she scrambled for shelter, moving back to where they were – the dead girls.

This was the worst part of the plan but she had to do it.

She hid underneath two bodies, almost losing what little contents were left in her stomach when a finger broke off in her hand.

"Hey Friday," she heard him say, keys jingling. "I'm ba–"

She didn't move.

"Friday?"

Didn't breathe.

He pushed past the curtain, peering back into the shed, not seeing…but looking.

She guessed right.

He wouldn't come back here.

"If you're back there Friday, you'd better answer me."

His voice was very stern but she wouldn't budge.

It was a matter of life and death and Spencer Carlin, that pretty girl with the blue eyes and blonde hair, was not going to die.

Not today.

The curtain fell back in place, and he moved to fiddle with the rings. "Clever girl."

--

**Sunday**

"We found one latent print but got no matches in the database," the forensic tech told Johnson, handing him back the lighter. Johnson sighed.

That was not the answer he was hoping for.

"I got something else though. There was some carving, on the lighter. It was very faint but too much of a pattern to be random scratches so I magnified the image and blew it up."

The tech loaded the image onto the computer screen, tracing the markings with the computer mouse. "As far as I can make out those are the letters J M and E," she said, looking at the man proudly. "I hope that helps."

"We'll see," he said, taking a copy of the image regardless. He called Roy. "No go on the print," he muttered into the receiver, scratching his stubbly chin. "Tech pulled me something else though. Some weird scratching on the lighter…J, M, and E."

Roy sat back in his office chair, pausing the search on his computer screen. "J, M, and E. Think it's some kind of business?"

"I was thinking more along the line of initials. It's probably the perp's initials,"

"I'm going to run both. See if anything pops up,"

"How's the video thing coming along?"

"We got an image. It's sketchy at best. I'm running it against some ex-cons in the area, see if this new facial recognition thing is all it's cracked up to be."

--

**Saturday**

She heard the door close behind him but she still didn't move, not until she couldn't hear his shouts anymore.

She pushed the dead girls off of her, shaking violently.

She was dreadfully cold and, if he'd locked the door, she was gonna have to figure out another way out of there or she _would_ freeze to death.

Slowly, she pulled back the curtain, peeking around it and breathing a huge sigh of relief when she found that he had actually gone.

She could hear birds chirping and thought, sadly, that she'd actually lost a day with this madman.

But this would be her last.

It had to be.

She gingerly made it over to the door, careful not to fall. She tugged on it, remembering that it opened inward and found that, although heavy, it did budge.

It wasn't locked!

She nudged it open just a little and let the light fall into the shed, a tiny sliver of subdued gold cutting across the grayish black and landing on hacked piece of pork and it was then she saw the handle.

There was a knife – a simple serrated kitchen knife – but in it she saw her chance, lunging for it without a second thought.

Armed with the knife and with a prayer sent up to God, she swung the door open quickly, stepping out of the shed and ready for…whatever.

--

Aiden sat at Clay's laptop, talking to his mother on his cell phone.

He was still looking at pictures of criminals, hoping that one would catch his eye again.

"I'm still at the precinct Mom. They want me to look at some pictures," he told her, randomly scrolling through profile after profile. "No, Mom, it's not that kind of a thing, I'm the only one that saw him," he switched pages, to captured offenders. "Mom, I seriously don't think he's going to come after-"

They boy froze.

There was no better way to describe it.

He was looking right at him.

"Mom, I'm going to have to call you back," he murmured, snatching the computer up and racing to Detective Roy's office. "I got him Mr. Roy!" he yelled, bursting in quite enthusiastically. "This is the guy that took Spencer!"


	18. Chapter 18

**18. **

**Saturday**

**Afternoon**

Ashley hurriedly pulled her cage back shut, panicked.

The quiet footfalls got closer and she heard one of the girls gasp, apparently seeing something.

She peered into the darkness, face drawing in confusion when she saw toes.

She'd _never _seen his toes.

The new girl crouched in front of her cage, holding a finger to her lips and Ashley finally let go of the breath she was holding.

The blonde girl – she could see that now – looked around for a catch on the cage and Ashley pushed it away slowly, showing her it was broken, showing her how it was broken.

She pointed to her collar and the new girl brandished the knife, slipping the blade between the girl's neck and the leather tether.

The blunt end pressed into Ashley's skin and Friday nodded once before lifting upward, the sharp knife just barely nipping her neck.

She whimpered a little, but finally free, her suffering was short-lived.

"Thank you," Ashley whispered, when they were both standing.

Friday shook her head, pressing a hand against Ashley's heart. "Thank _you_," she said quietly.

"C'mon," Ashley whispered, grabbing the girl's hand and leading her over to Madison's cage.

The girl's cage was perched upon a cabinet, harder to get to so they would have to be careful, and concise because time was not a luxury they were afforded.

But all that time practiced being quiet, remaining silent even when they were in pain, or hungry, or just…just lost, all of those moments prepared them for this one. And very quietly and very meticulously, they worked Madison free from her holding cell.

Ashley cut her free as Friday crossed the room, trying to figure out the other two girl's cages.

Theirs were flimsier and had several chains reinforcing the locks so they were going to be more difficult.

Kyla quietly pushed her legs outward while all three girls pulled in earnest. She cut off her own collar and finally, after several attempts the door gave just enough that she, if she maneuvered properly, could squeeze out.

Chelsea, the last girl, was the hardest and her door wouldn't give, even with the constant prying and pulling.

Desperate, the girl kicked furiously, sending the cage door flying outward loudly, the sound echoing into the silence.

"What the hell?!"

"Quick, get back in," Ashley hissed, helping Madison back into her cage and setting the door back to as normal as possible.

Chelsea pulled her door back, still holding onto Friday's knife as she was using it to slice off her collar.

In record time, each and every girl was back in her cage, seemingly as confined as before, and the girl ducked off into the shadows, hiding as quickly and as effectively as she could just as the basement door slammed open.

Edward hurried down the steps, looking around the basement and finding it very much like he left it, but he knew that sound had come from down here.

He _knew_ it.

"What was that?" he asked them, eyes darting around the room. "What _was_ that?"

He shuffled around and they glanced around nervously, anxiously.

Ashley, from her vantage point couldn't see much, but she could see feet and she could see that Edward was getting very, very close to the toes that had just saved her.

--

Edward was losing his mind.

That was the only explanation.

He was now having auditory hallucinations.

Because, as he looked around this basement, this dungeon, he saw nothing out of place.

Every girl was still in her cage, every girl still looked scared out of her mind, every girl had – wait a minute.

"What the hell?" he peered into Kyla's cage, spotting a frayed edge of her collar.

He walked over slowly, shuffling past Madison's cage and right then, Madison shared a look with Ashley and the girl nodded, silently spurring her on.

Without a moment's hesitation, Madison kicked her cage door open, the thick metal mesh connecting squarely with his face.

It completely stunned him for a moment and Chelsea broke out, plunging Friday's knife deep into his shoulder and he groaned loudly, flailing.

Ashley jumped free, pulling Madison and Kyla loose as Friday emerged with a mop handle, bringing it solidly over his head.

The sound echoed in the basement and he fell to the floor in a heap and Ashley pushed Kyla and Madison past him, Madison pulling the knife out of his shoulder quickly. "C'mon," Friday said, ushering them upstairs. She didn't really know where to go though and Edward's groans had not faded meaning the man was down but not out.

"How do we get out of here?" she asked the other girls, shaking from adrenaline.

"I only know how to get to the bedroom," Madison told her, running all the information through her mind.

"There's a window in there," Chelsea said, light bulb going off.

They tore through the dirty house, looking for the bedroom. Hesitant to enter for several reasons, Ashley took lead and marched them in only to discover the bedroom window was nailed shut, iron bars blocking entrance or exit.

"Plan B?" Kyla asked, looking around at dangerously panicked faces – panicked yet determined.

"The bathroom," Ashley whispered, tearing off toward it. Inside the small bath, just inside the shower was a small 2x2 window and by some miracle it had no bars, nailed shut but no bars.

"Move," Friday said, still holding the mop handle. She held on tightly and thrust the stick into the pane, shattering it instantly.

Peering outside, she surveyed the distance to the ground and saw that they'd have quite a fall if they jumped out but it was their only option.

Ashley cleared the glass and one by one, they hoisted one another out of the bathroom.

"You go first Friday," she told the girl, making a foothold for her. It was only fitting that at least the new girl, the girl who started all of this, would be the first to make it out.

Friday wedged her hand on either side of the window, pulling herself up. "My name's Spencer," she told her, sharing a brief smile with the girl before sliding out with relative ease. Spencer held onto the ledge lowering her body as far as she could before jumping the rest of the way, absorbing the shock with her knees.

She looked around and called up that it was okay to keep coming and very soon, Chelsea and Kyla were on the ground.

"Oh you little bitches!"

Ashley and Madison turned to each other in the bathroom, hearing his voice close.

Madison rushed over to the door, locking it.

"Go ahead Madison," Ashley told her, helping her up, frantic.

Madison slid out backwards, hanging onto Ashley's arms, allowing the girl to use her gravity to get up to the window ledge.

The bathroom door banged violently.

"Open this goddamn door!"

The unexpected noise startled Madison and the girl's grip loosened, dropping Ashley back into the bathtub.

The girl stumbled but regained her footing, but Edward's bangs grew louder and she realized with dread that he was trying to break the door down.

Being the shorter of the girls she jumped, trying to reach it but missed, sliding in the porcelain tub and nearly cracking her head on the tiles, but that's when she saw her advantage.

If she could balance herself on the soap ledge and if she timed her jump just right.

She tuned out everything and concentrated on the window, balancing precariously on a rather reliable soap ledge.

BANG!

On the count of three…

BANG!

"Open!"

One.

BANG!

"THIS!"

Two.

BANG!

CRACK!

"_DOOR!_"

Three.

She caught on the window ledge just as his hand reached through the crack he'd made in the door and, as it swung open, the last thing she saw crawling head first out of the window was his irate and shocked face as he lunged for her.


	19. Chapter 19

**19.**

**Sunday**

"Edward Mason Junior," Detective Roy said, going over the man's file as they drove out to his last known location.

There were plain clothes officers already en route in unmarked cars so as not to tip off Mr. Mason lest he do something even _more_ unhinged.

"How'd this bastard even _make _parole?"

Johnson grunted, making a sharp left. "Overcrowded prisons… crappy judicial system…take your pick. We do our damnedest to get the assholes locked up and they do their damnedest to get them off on some technicality."

Still, Roy was a repeated sex offender, culminating in the abduction and subsequent disappearance of young Rebecca Short. He was brought to trial on her disappearance but the case was tossed out for lack of evidence.

But the man was a menace to society and he couldn't fathom how he got out, much less, how his parole officer didn't even know where he was.

The system sure sucked sometime.

--

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Glen pleaded, tired of sitting on his hands at home.

Paula was wrought with nerves and just sitting there bouncing like she was sitting on a rumbling engine.

"The police are doing everything they can Glen," Arthur told him, trying to stay calm. He was standing in their kitchen doorway; drinking a cup of coffee that tasted a lot like grounds it was so strong.

Clay was quietly counting the seconds, trying to keep breathing.

"Fuck this shit," Glen muttered, grabbing his jacket. "I'm going."

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked him.

"I need air."

--

Edward launched himself out of the front door, seeing how quickly dusk was approaching.

Sometimes, being in that house, with his things, was like living in another world.

He forgot sometimes the planets existed and that there were other days, and they went on just as surely as the ocean hit the shore.

He forgot the world existed outside of Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

But, now, he remembered.

He remembered because they were out there – his things, his _acquisitions_, were out there and they were leaving his world.

Trying to anyway.

But he would have something to say about that.

He and his trusty 12-gauge shotgun.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **From the Merriam-Webster dictionary:

**sus·pense**

Pronunciation: \sə-ˈspen(t)s\

Function: _noun_

Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from _suspendre_

Date: 15th century

**1** **:** the state of being suspended **:** **suspension**  
**2 a** **:** mental uncertainty **:** **anxiety** **b** **:** pleasant excitement as to a decision or outcome [a novel of suspense]  
**3** **:** the state or character of being undecided or doubtful **:** **indecisiveness**

That is all.

---

**20.**

**Saturday**

**Evening**

The girls had run as far and as fast as they could, opting to stay together rather than split apart.

When Ashley dove headfirst from the window, they caught her, tumbling softly to the ground.

_Spencer helped her up, still only in underwear and barefoot. "Are you okay?" she asked her softly, holding on as the girl steadied herself._

_Ashley did a quick self-check, nodding slowly. "I think so."_

_Madison panted heavily, surveying their surroundings. There were trees for days on all sides of them, and no roads in sight._

"_GIRLS!" Edward boomed from somewhere inside the house making them all jump._

_Madison started them in one direction and they picked their way behind her, following quickly. "Okay, guys quick. Ideas,"_

"_Pick a direction and go," Kyla said, nodding once in the affirmative. "That's our best bet."_

"_Split apart or stay together?" Chelsea asked, worriedly shredding her lip. They didn't have much time._

"_Together," Ashley stated, assuredly. "We're all going to make it out of here."_

_Spencer took her hand in her own and reached another out to grab Madison's, smiling. "Together."_

--

That was hours ago and now, now it was growing dark and the woods more dense.

They could only see occasionally when the thicket of leaves would open up and the moonlight could shine straight through.

They hadn't heard Edward for some time leading them to believe he walked off in an opposite direction or at least they hoped so.

"I wish we had a flashlight," Kyla mumbled, still trekking along.

They'd slowed considerably, both fatigue and the fear of traveling in circles forcing them to proceed with caution.

"Hell, chica, if we're wishing for things, I wish I had my cell phone," Madison said, making the other girls smile.

"It feels good to smile," Chelsea said, sighing a little. "To talk."

"Guys," Ashley started, stopping for a moment. "Maybe we should stay put until morning. We could be walking in giant circles or worse, heading straight back to that place."

"What if we fall asleep?" Kyla asked, worried about that. They were tiring and, while resting was essential, she didn't want to risk anything by sleeping soundly while _he_ was still on the prowl.

"We won't. We'll keep each other awake, alright?" Ashley said, deciding it was best. The others still looked hesitant. "Look, it's for the best. We need to conserve our strength because who knows how long we'll be walking around out here."

She made a good point and Madison finally begrudgingly sat, finding a fallen tree trunk and making it her makeshift seat. "I'm with Ashley. We'll just rest up for a bit and get moving again as soon as day breaks."

They all sat then, cross-legged and huddled tightly together. Ashley braided her hair back and knotted it, getting it out of the way but when Spencer – who was sitting right next to her – shivered, she noticed.

"Are you cold?" she asked her, finding the air had turned a little cooler.

"I don't have any clothes on," Spencer told her, not needing to say more than that. Ashley asked Madison for the knife, cutting the bottom half of her nightgown off and draping it over the girl's shoulders.

"It's not the best, but maybe it'll help," she said, offering the girl a bashful smile.

"Thanks Ash…" Spencer said, noticing the girl's raised eyebrows. "Ashley, I mean. I meant Ashley."

Ashley grinned as the girl grounded her eyes, looking a little flustered.

Madison looked at them both, smiling slightly. "You guys think we're still in Los Angeles?"

"No clue," Ashley shrugged, looking up at the sky. "The sky looks too nice though for us to still be in L.A."

"I don't remember anything," Spencer added, feeling uncomfortable. "He knocked me out for the ride."

Chelsea nodded, remembering.

"I'm sick of talking about him," Kyla said all of a sudden. "Let's start forgetting about him now because once we're out of here I'm never giving him another thought."

"Here, here," Madison concurred.

They were quiet for a moment, all probably caught up in the fact that if even for the moment, they were all free. The sky above them was purplish blue and the air, still rich with the smell of rain, was sharp, crisp, and clean.

"I want Papa John's," Spencer said suddenly, still looking skyward.

The rest of the girls erupted in quiet giggles.

--

Edward marched along steadily, not caring that it was nearing pitch black outside.

He couldn't see more than a foot in front of him but he had to keep going, had to keep searching.

Because if they get away…

He shook his head hard, willing that fleeting thought to slip away.

No, they weren't going to get away.

He knew these woods like the back of his hands and they had no cover, no clothing, no food …

It would only be a matter of time before they turned up, begging him for mercy, hoping he would take pity on them.

He saw it, them begging, on their knees and willing to do anything to stave off his wrath, his fury. And he would too, he'd take them back.

All but one of them.

No, the new girl, the blonde girl…

She was going to _die_.


	21. Chapter 21

**21.**

**Sunday**

**Early Morning**

Spencer's ears twitched, a distant sound grating against her eardrums.

She gradually stirred, feeling a soft warmth on her cheek.

The sounds grew in volume and she finally jerked awake, sitting up abruptly barely realizing that she'd practically slept on top of Ashley.

She shook the brunette quickly, harshly and the brown eyes startled open, instantly panicked.

"What?" she asked her, voice scratchy and sleep rough.

BANG!

Ashley didn't need an explanation as the gunshot rang out into the morning air.

It didn't sound like it was entirely nearby but it was still loud enough that it woke the rest of them.

"Oh shit," Madison cursed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes quickly.

Kyla jumped to her feet searching the woods hurriedly, her eyes scanning the brush.

"We gotta move, come on," Ashley said, pulling Spencer and Chelsea along by the hand and Madison and Kyla followed closely behind.

--

"Monday!" he yelled, frantic, letting go another shot.

When daylight broke he'd lost all reserve, shouting their names out to the heavens, shooting blindly into the thickets of trees.

He stumbled over a root, crashing down to the ground.

"Ugh!" he groaned, slamming a fist into the forest floor as his weapon accidentally discharged. "Where the fuck are you?!"

Still on the earth, he turned his gaze skyward, hoping the answers would come to him from up above and then he thought better knowing that God would have to be one sadistic fuck to help him out.

Then again…

The God he'd read about in Sunday school did have somewhat of a mean streak.

"Saturday!" he yelled, firing another round as he got back to his feet. "Sunday!"

--

When they arrived at the location it was early morning.

They'd been driving all night and after various known addresses for Mr. Mason turned up no Edward and no girls they thought all was lost.

But then an old neighbor who "didn't like the cut of his jib" spilled the beans and said that the young man had moved out to an old ranch home at the edge of the woods. "Thank the Lord," the old woman said, carrying on. "He always scared the daylights out of John and I. Oh, I miss John…"

"Thank you Ma'am," Detective Roy told her, shaking her hand and declining the tenth offer for tea.

"C'mon," Johnson roared, climbing into their vehicle. "All units follow me!"

--

**Mid Morning**

"Where the fuck are they going now?!" Glen hit the steering wheel as the police peeled off yet again.

He was starting to detect that they were incompetent persons…either that or they were trying to steer him wrong.

"Glen!"

"What?" the blonde boy yelled back, pissed. "I'm worried about my little sister. Give me a break."

"Oh that's it," Clay seethed, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Pull over."

"What?" Glen asked, face screwed up. "No."

Clay grabbed the steering, yanking it to the right and effectively maneuvering the car to the side of the road. Glen hit the brakes hard just to make sure they wouldn't veer off into a ditch or something.

"What the _hell _is your problem?!"

"Get out of the car!" Clay yelled, hopping out of the passenger side and leaving his door open. He ran over to Glen's side and tugged on the handle. "Get out of the car Glen!"

"No!" Glen yelled, bewildered.

Clay pulled on the handle again with some unforeseen strength and the locking mechanism disengaged, leaving a wide-eyed Glen in its wake.

"Mom's gonna kick your ass. You _broke _the–"

Clay grabbed Glen by the collar, yanking him out of the vehicle. "She's my little sister too, okay?" he informed him, quietly.

He shook him for emphasis.

Glen nodded.

"You are not the only one concerned about Spencer, got it?!" He yelled this time and his eyes watered. "I want her back just as badly as you but your bitching and moaning is not going to do that. So suck it up, shut the fuck up, and drive!" he finished, turning loose the boy's collar roughly.

Glen stumbled back a few paces before righting himself.

Clay calmly got back into the car, redoing his seatbelt and soon Glen was starting the engine again, peeling off down the road.

"Mom's still gonna kick your ass."

Clay smirked.

--

BANG!

The noise came from in front of them this time and before anyone could react Madison fell to the ground, whimpering.

"Oh no," Chelsea gasped, covering her mouth.

The Latina lay on the ground, clutching her abdomen in pain.

"Help her up," Ashley said, stooping down and looping an arm around her neck.

Spencer and Kyla scrambled to help her as Chelsea was too much in shock to be of any use.

Another shot – BANG! – rang out even closer and Spencer got the sinking feeling that they were walking straight toward him.

Chelsea squeaked and covered her ears and Madison groaned again, in too much pain.

"Leave me chicas," she mumbled as they struggled to get her to her feet. The ground was wet making it hard to get proper footing plus the weeks of malnourishment left them rather weak. "Go on. Get out of here."

"No," Ashley barked, grunting with exertion. "We're not leaving you here."

"Ashley," Madison said, gathering all the strength and courage she had left. "You have to get out of here now!"

BANG!

"MONDAY!"

"Ashley…" Spencer whispered, touching the girl's shoulder. "Come on."

The brunette reluctantly moved away, tightly gripping Madison's hand one last time as they pulled her away, rushing off into the bushes.

--

**Late Morning**

"There it is," Roy said, peering through the windshield wiper blades as the grey house took formation, it sat back far away from the road, trees blocking an entryway.

It was a haggard looking thing, lifeless even, sitting right on the edge of the forest like the old woman said.

He and Johnson hopped out of the car before it had even completely come to a stop, waving officers to the back and directing others to stand outside on alert.

Detectives Roy and Johnson ran up the top steps, guns at the ready.

Johnson nodded once and Roy took a deep breath before speaking.

"Mason! We know you're in there! Open up so we can do this the easy way!"

Johnson breathed heavily, still clamping on the remarkably still lit cigarette. He waited with baited breath for a response.

Nothing coming.

Roy nodded one time and Johnson swung to stand in front of the door, gun drawn and poised.

"Alright bastard! I guess we're doing it my way!" he yelled as he kicked the door in.

--

Edward, clothes clinging onto his skin and making him feel heavy, like he were moving through sand, still felt nothing as he moved on, breathing as if only by rote.

He would be less careless with his shells, figuring he only had a few cartridges left and he couldn't waste precious moments going back to his home for more ammunition.

He was on the hunt now and –

"Ohhh…"

Edward was nearly shaking when he laid eyes on her, writhing on the ground, grasping at the dirt with one hand and holding a hand to her bleeding stomach with the other one.

"Monday?" he whispered and even over the sound of the pelting rain and the enormity of her pain she heard him, snapping her head in his direction.

Her eyes didn't widen in fear though, they only drew narrower with contempt.

"Oh my–" he started, stumbling over to her and falling to his knees, dropping the rifle to his side.

He would rather not have hit _her_.

His hands hovered above her skin, not sure where to touch.

"Mond–"

She spit in his face and it caught on his lip – her saliva, her blood.

"It's Madison, Puta and don't you forget it," she spat out, her anger overriding her agony.

Edward didn't say a word.

He got to his feet slowly, taking the rifle with him.

Madison looked to the sky.

"Our Father…who art in Heaven…"

She closed her eyes then, the sky now being blocked from view.

"Hallowed be Thy name…Thy Kingdom come–"

BANG!

Edward walked away.


	22. Chapter 22

**22.**

**Late Morning**

"Oh shit," Ashley whispered, ducking to the ground on instinct as another shot rang out.

"Are you alright?" Spencer asked her, rushing to her aide.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm not hit," she assured the girl, standing back upright.

"Hey, look," Kyla started, looking worried. "Maybe we should split up."

"No," Spencer started, shaking her head. "No way."

"Hear me out," the shorter girl implored, pointing to the direction they just came from. "You see that?" she asked, pointing to the ground, their footprints. "Those are tracks, _our_ tracks. He's just gonna hunt us down if we don't confuse him or something."

"Kyla's right," Ashley nodded, not really having time to get into it. "We'll go this way. Spencer, you and Chelsea go in the opposite direction," Kyla started off to the right. "We're gonna get help and then come back for whoever, okay?" Ashley told her, looking into the blonde girl's eyes.

Spencer nodded, pulling a reluctant Chelsea with her and that moment's hesitation was all it took.

BANG!

--

"Whoa! What was that?"

Glen unwittingly swerved as the loud bang threw him off.

"It sounded like a gun," Clay stated, peering through the rivulets of rain into the thick woods.

"C'mon bro, let's go get our sister," Glen said, stopping the car abruptly and unlocking the doors.

He took off into the brush, Clay right behind him.

--

"The house is clear, sir," one of the lower officers told him, coming down from the upstairs. "We found blood in one of the bathrooms but no sign of the perpetrator."

Roy snorted, perplexed.

Johnson came back in from the back yard. "The van's out there but no sign of him and the girl anywhere."

"Damn it," Roy grumbled, running a hand over his head. "You think someone tipped him off?"

"No way," Detective Johnson assured him, lighting up another cigarette. "Half of the people we questioned hated the bastard and the others didn't even know who he was."

"Then where the hell is…what was that?"

"What?" Johnson asked him, straining to listen.

Roy held a finger up to his lips, listening. "Hey! Everybody stop moving and shut up!"

Very low, like a car backfiring in the distance, they heard the sound.

"Outside! Now!"

--

Ashley watched as Kyla dashed off and ducked back into the woods, her horror stricken eyes wide and scared.

Chelsea's lifeless body stood for a few seconds longer before it flopped to the ground, the gaping hole in her head prominently displayed.

Spencer shook uncontrollably, feeling the sticky blood and brain matter all over her face and neck, dripping down her body and mixing in with the rain and dirt.

Her lower lip quivered but before she could make a sound Ashley's hand was over her mouth, pulling her into the cover of the thickets.

--

Edward walked into the small clearing, shotgun aimed and ready to fire.

"Saturday!" he yelled, stepping ever closer to where Chelsea's body lay.

He stood over her, looking down at her like a little boy who has broken his shiny red fire truck.

Wordlessly he knelt down, closing the girl's eyelids with his fingers.

"Wednesday!"

Spencer shook more as he came into view and she figured if she could see him then he could see them.

His back was to them still but he stood just a few feet away, searching.

At any moment he could turn around and he would surely see them, standing there, cowering.

"Wednesday!" he yelled into the atmosphere. "I know you're out there! Friday!"

Spencer shook harder and Ashley snaked her other arm around the girl, holding her close.

Spencer brought around her left hand, mirroring Ashley's and weaving her fingers into the other girl's, gripping tightly.

The man turned around slowly, half a pace to facing them…

"Edward!"

He flinched, hearing his name spoken loudly in a foreign voice and he took off, sprinting deeper into the woods.

Ashley exhaled the breath she'd been holding and she relaxed her hold on Spencer, not even recognizing the other girl's near death grip.

"Spencer," she whispered, squeezing the girl's hand. "Spencer, say something." She shook her a little.

Spencer came back to life with a shudder, wincing slightly before dry heaving nonstop. Ashley patted her back, pulling them both to sit on the ground, still looking around for him.

"Here," Ashley said, taking deep breaths. "Breathe like this okay?"

Spencer nodded and tried to concentrate on getting air inside her lungs. She licked her lips and gagged again as she tasted the viscous liquid.

Ashley grabbed the tattered bottom of her gown, wiping the blood and other stuff away from Spencer's face as best she could.

Feeling safe for a moment yet not knowing what to make of the other voices she could just barely hear, Ashley sat back on her hands, trying to formulate a game plan.

"She didn't even see it coming," Spencer whispered, bringing her fingers to her mouth.

Brown eyes met blue and they were quiet for a moment, soaking it all in. Chelsea was dead and, more than likely, so was Madison. They had no idea where Kyla was and Ashley couldn't peg whether or not the other voices were for them or against them.

And they still had a madman hot in pursuit of them.

"I heard it. I heard the gun and then she just fell and all I could think was…was…"

"Thank God it's not me," Ashley filled in for her.

"Yeah," Spencer nodded. "Does that make me a horrible person? I mean, her head almost got blasted off and all I could think was 'I'm okay',"

"That doesn't make you a horrible person Spencer; just normal…It's perfectly normal to want to survive…"

"Or to want others to survive," she stated quietly, grounding her eyes. "The second thing I thought Ashley was how glad I was that it wasn't you. I don't think I could…if something happens to you…"

Ashley looked at her, face set in concentration. She put her fingers under the girl's chin, lifting her head back up. "Nothing will."

"But what if–"

"It won't," she cut her off. "We're going to get out of here. I promise."

--

Kyla ran blindly through the woods, running from the images in her mind.

Chelsea and her had come in at virtually the same time, and Chelsea was the first other girl she'd ever seen and Chelsea…poor Chelsea.

The tears ran down her cheeks as freely as the rain poured down from the sky.

She saw her head explode and she hoped more than anything that the girl went quickly, not feeling anything.

She was always so honest and pure and he'd destroyed that and in a way, she was glad the girl had died because then she wouldn't have to live with her nightmare.

"Uh," she grunted, hitting something that had not previously been in her path and hitting the forest floor, hard.

--

"Shit," Glen cursed quietly, rolling over off his back and pushing himself back into a standing position.

Then he ducked.

--

Kyla swung again, barely missing the boy.

She was not going back there, not unless it was in a body bag and if she was dead she didn't care what he did with her.

"Hey lady," Glen said, ducking with a quickness as she jabbed incessantly. "Will you cut it out?"

She finally opened her eyes, realizing that he wasn't trying to hurt her, but she still shrunk away…wary.

Glen breathed heavily, taking in her appearance. She was wearing what looked like pajamas and she was soaked from head to toe. She stepped back from him again and almost panicked when Clay came bustling into the scene.

The boy didn't notice her at first.

"Now you show up," Glen said, wondering where Super Clay was when the girl was trying to karate chop him.

"What?"

Glen nodded at the little brunette.

Kyla shifted uncomfortably now, aware of her appearance.

"Are…are you hurt?" Clay asked her, nodding at the stain on her top.

She looked down, not even remembering the cut.

She'd gotten snagged on the bathroom window.

"Can you help me?" she asked them.

--

"Edward!" Roy shouted, probing the forest.

They'd stretched a line nearly clear across the forest, each officer armed and standing just a few feet from the next. They were combing the woods, quickly and efficiently.

"Edward Mason!"

"Come out you coward!" Detective Johnson snarled, still with the cigarette. He finally spit it out, serious now.

"Detective!" one of the officers called out, a few yards away. "I found something."

Roy and Johnson broke position and ran over.

"She's still warm," Roy said, placing a finger against the dead girl's pulse point futilely. "He must not be far."

"Fuck," Johnson spat out, rubbing his temple with the barrel of his pistol. "He's got those girls out here. I want that asshole now." He grabbed his radio, overriding Roy for the first time to give orders. "All officers on high alert, suspect is armed and dangerous. And if anybody sees him...

…dead him."

--

"Edward! This is the police! Turn yourself in now!"

Ashley dragged Spencer onward, running as fast as she could toward the loud sounds.

"C'mon Spencer," she said, turning around momentarily to glance at the girl.

Spencer stopped, pulling back on Ashley as hard as she could but they still slid forward crashing directly into _him._

"_You_," he snarled, looking at Spencer, his eyes nearly slits.

In a nanosecond he raised the shotgun, ready to blast her to oblivion.

Her: the girl who foiled all his planning.

Her: the girl who broke the rules.

Her: the girl he just _had_ to have.

Her: the girl who looked just like _her_.

Ashley jumped in front of Spencer, shielding the girl behind her.

The anger melted off of Edward's face.

"Move Wednesday," he said, never lowering the gun.

"No," the girl said, shaking her head and staying close to Spencer.

She held her hands behind her back, wiggling them a little and Spencer got the message and took them in her own, squeezing.

Edward was shaking, hair sticking to his forehead as the rain continued to fall in sheets.

Monday was gone…and so was Sunday, two of his best girls.

But not this…

Not his _favorite_.

"Wednesday," he told her again, keeping his voice steady even though his heart was threatening to jump out his ribcage. "Get out of the way," he spoke very slowly.

She shook her head again, backing up even more.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, lower lip trembling. "You were one of the good ones. I don't want to Wednesday, but I will," he told her, finger pulling back slowly on the trigger. "Please don't make me."

Ashley swallowed hard, standing up a little straighter. She mumbled something but he couldn't hear it over the distant shouting, the blood rushing through his body, and the rain.

"What?" he asked her, stepping forward.

"Ashley…" she said again, standing her ground. "I'm not a fucking day of the week. I'm a girl and my name is Ashley Davies and I am _not_ afraid of you anymore. If you're going to shoot me then do it. If you're going to rape me, go ahead. But I'm done running from you and you trust me you sick son of a bitch when they find you and trust me they _will _find you, you're gonna know exactly how it feels to be one of us."

He went stock still, not even breathing it seemed. Then…

"ARRRGGGHH!" Edward let loose a primal scream, leaping forward and hitting her head with the butt of his shotgun. Ashley tumbled to the ground, knocked out cold and he advanced on Spencer.

The blonde fell, scrambling backward as he walked steadily closer to her until she back straight into a tree. "Fucking bitch!" he yelled, pointing the shotgun at her. "It's your fault! They betrayed me because of you! I'm gonna fucking _end_ you!"

Kyla screamed at the top of her lungs, leaping onto the man's back before he could squeeze the trigger. She bit his neck as hard as she could, tearing off pieces of flesh in the process. Edward staggered back away from Spencer before reaching around and getting a handful of Kyla's hair and pulling her off him, tossing her to the ground.

Glen then charged the man, ramming his head into his midsection and forcing him to the forest floor. The two rolled in the mud, Glen putting up a superb fight even as Edward hit him with tremendous blows.

Finally Glen had the advantage, pinning the man underneath him, grappling for the weapon.

Clay rushed to the girls, helping up Kyla and Spencer and they attempted to wake up an unconscious Ashley.

Glen nearly had control of the gun when he stopped suddenly, eyes wide and staring into Edward's own.

He'd retrieved the knife that Spencer had used to set them free from Madison's still body and now he used it to his advantage, stabbing Glen in the stomach.

Edward rolled them over, pulling the knife back out and looking to them as they tried to revive Ashley.

Glen tried to push up onto his knees, only making gurgling sounds in warning as he clutched his stomach.

Ashley's eyes were just fluttering open and Clay had his back to the man when he felt the cold steel against his lower back. "Move and you die."

Spencer and Kyla looked up and saw him standing there, evil smile full blown on his face.

"Ditto," Detective Johnson said, pistol settling right behind Edward's ear.


	23. Chapter 23

**23.**

It happened so slowly it seemed.

The man, Edward, he was tackled to the ground, the police officers swarming in on him like angry bees.

And Glen was helped up by more officers, rushing him off to be attended too.

And there were sounds all around her: the struggling of _him_, the wind and rain rushing overhead, the radios cackling to life harshly, voices cutting across the wire, the sirens wailing in the distance…

And Clay held her close, held them all as they followed the men to the edge of the woods, climbed into ambulances.

And they poked them and prodded them and they asked them questions, trying to connect the dots and put puzzles together.

And when that all was over, when they'd probed in every conceivable way, when Glen was sent away in an ambulance, when they'd watched the body bag being put into a police van, they packed them all together, sitting until it was time to move again.

It was all so very surreal, like being awake and still on the edge of a dream, feeling connected to the two worlds.

In one world, it was over.

And she could pretend this whole thing – this whole happening, this occurrence – never took place.

She could make-believe that it was all part of some twisted never-ending nightmare brought on by a late night pantry raid for candy and caffeine.

But…

In the other world it _had _happened.

It _had_ occurred.

And she was tethered to this world – held fast to it – by the hand that held tightly onto hers.

And she didn't _ever_ want to let go.

--

He shot.

He shot point blank.

And he missed.

That's the only reason Madison was lying right there in the hospital war room when they arrived.

"I told you we'd make it chicas," she whispered to them, waving her fingers with a smile.

--

The courtroom was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

When they finally brought the defendant out, head low and feet ands hand shackled together, the air in the room was literally sucked out and everyone in there could feel it, they could feel the scale of emotions.

The weight of all the anger, and the hatred, the fear and the oppression, it all just sunk into the room and everyone's shoulders felt just that much more heavy.

The girl's didn't have to testify – not in front of the courtroom anyway.

The only other people who knew – and would ever know – what went down in that house aside from the people in that house were the members of the grand jury and the presiding judge. Faced with the weight of the testimony and the bodies found in his "ice box" Mr. Mason's lawyers thought it would be in his best interest to plead guilty.

So he did.

"Mr. Mason," the Judge addressed the young man with his head still hanging low. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Even with the support of her parents, their comfort settled in on either side of her, even with her brothers there, contemptuous looks on their faces, even with the reassurance of guards and police officers and restraints and handguns, Spencer still was afraid of even hearing his voice.

But across the way, just a few seats to the left of her, Ashley sat flanked by her mother and grandmother and just then the two girls eyes met and a thousand and one things were spoken at once without either ever making a sound, but then, even with their captor just a few feet away, Spencer's ears turned red and a warmth spread across her cheeks and Ashley's eyes sparkled as her lips turned up into a smile.

So when Edward Mason's head lifted and instead of a frown or any trace of remorse his face bore an evil smirk neither girl would witness it, for once not focused on _him_.

--

**Later**

"C'mon Spencer! You're gonna be late!" Glen yelled, standing at the base of the stairs, waiting patiently.

"Coming!" she called down, trying to put the final touches on her make-up and get off of the phone.

"_And if anyone tries to make a move on you just knee them in the crotch. It can work on girls too you know,"_

Spencer rolled her eyes, almost smearing her mascara in the process. "I didn't know that Clay but thanks for telling me."

The boy chuckled across the line. _"No_ _problem."_

"Spencer!"

"Okay!" she yelled again, this time remembering to pull the phone away from her face. "I gotta go Clay."

"_Oh alright,"_ he relented. _"Be safe and remember what I told you. Love you."_

"Love you too," she said, hanging up and hurriedly grabbing her bag before zooming down the stairs.

She was almost out of the door – a flash of blonde hair and something blue – when a voice spoke up from the couch.

Paula was sitting there, knitting of all things, while Arthur sat next to her reading a book.

"Hey blur," the woman called out, smiling gently. "A moment, please?"

Spencer flounced over, looking a little flustered.

"Curfew?" Paula asked.

"Midnight," the girl answered, by rote.

"Location?" Arthur this time.

"Um, the movies?" Spencer answered, a bit unsure. "I mean, we're gonna be at a house so I don't know if that qualifies…"

"You're good," Arthur said, smiling warmly at the girl's nervous ramble.

"Protection?" Glen asked this one and she turned beet red before hitting him in the arm.

"Ow!" he grumbled, still snickering. "I had to do it."

"Okay sweetie," Paula said, fixing her eyes on her daughter. "Have a good time just…not too much of a good time." Hey, she still is Paula. "And don't forget, girl's night out next Friday."

"Gotcha."

--

"Bye Glen," she said to him, trying to shoo him away as she walked up the driveway.

"I'm not leaving until you're inside," he told her, smirking the entire time.

He just had to see this.

Ringing the doorbell, barely, the door swung inward and there she stood.

Dimples and nose crinkles and brown sparkling eyes – the definition of Ashley Davies.

"Hey," the girl breathed out, taking in Spencer's appearance in hyper time.

"Hey," Spencer echoed, forgetting what the word even meant for a moment.

Glen snickered loudly from the car and they shook out of the reverie. "I'll see you later loser."

"Bye butt munch," Spencer fired back, glaring playfully as he pulled off and down the street.

"You ready?" Ashley asked her, staring directly into her eyes and Spencer nodded as the other girl pulled the door open wider, letting her in.

Spencer slowly walked by her, heading in the direction of the noisy living room where she knew the rest would be. "Hey Spence…"

The brunette leaned back against the door, looking her over again when Spencer peeked back over her shoulder. "Hmm?"

"You look really beautiful tonight," Ashley finally said, grounding her eyes a little as she said it even though she meant every word.

"Thanks Ash," the blonde girl said, smile nearly splitting her face in two.

"Okay chicas," Madison called out, catching their scene from her position seated on sofa. Mark, her boyfriend, was sitting next to her and Kyla and Nicholas were sitting next to each other on the floor. "Cut the staring game out and come on. We want to see this movie already."

The girls walked into the living room, hand in hand, Ashley making sure to playfully flick Madison's arm as they walked by.

--

And tragedies happen every day and bad things, unexpectedly happen to really good people but great things, really great things, why…they're pretty hard to come by and when you least expect it, that's where they are.

**END**

A/N: If you read please review/PM me. I'd like to know what people thought/felt about this whole story. It's not your typical Spashley story at all. No kisses even, wow. But, it was just a weird way to tie my job into the show and show how beautiful things, like love, can prevail in even the most ugly of places. Thanks for bearing with me and my short chapters, lol. Love you guys.

Maybe now I can focus on these other stories (the billion and one others) I have going.

-MGMK


End file.

South of Nowhere, Crime, Friendship