Scowling, I shoot death glares at Blake as binds my hands and feet to the chair. He found me outside after I shut the door, and hauled me off to another room. He must have a million of these cells in order to put one person in each. Hence the term "solitary confinement". Blake laughs at my face, turns, and leaves the room. Now, I'm alone.

I can't believe I allowed myself to get caught. Now I can't save myself, much less Tristan. I really don't want to die, either. Yes, I know what you're thinking. I just committed suicide, why wouldn't I want to die? Well, Tristan has helped me see the world with new light. I have so much to live for. Now, thanks to Tristan, I really feel like I have a future. This world has so much to offer me. School is one example. I have good grades; I can probably get into any college I want to.

The other example is that, also thanks to Tristan, I realize I'm loved. For the first time since I was fifteen, I feel like someone loves me, wants me, needs me. And they do. My mother loves me, Reese loves me, Sarah loves me, Lisa loves me, Hannah loves me, Chad loves me, and Tristan loves me. I doubt Tristan has thought this far ahead, but if things go well between us, we could get married someday. I can just imagine being the wife of Tristan Daniels...

Late-night make out sessions. Cutesy Valentine's Day gifts. Cheesy, romantic dates. A baby and a rocking chair. A house by the water. Arguing over what color the paint on the walls should be. Coming home each evening to familiar, welcoming arms. Watching sappy romance movies and cuddling. Working hard, but having fun. Water gun fights on the weekends. Kisses and hugs on the weekdays. And falling asleep every night in Tristan's arms.

My daydreams bring a gigantic smile to my face, and the fact that they all could come true is very inspiring. In all honesty, I am scared to death to go to therapy and take antidepressants. But I will. For Tristan. For my future. For me. Never again will I give up, at least not so easily. I know the road ahead is a hard one. I know it won't be without sorrow, pain, tears, relapses, and frustration. But I can make it. I will make it. When my recovery is complete, I can work at turning myself into the woman I want to be.

I want to be strong. I want to be brave. I want to be independent. I want to work hard and support my family and those who I love. But I also want to have fun. I want to be the kind of woman who picks up lost puppy on the street corner and takes him home. I want to be the kind of woman who buys clothes from a struggling business and puts money in a homeless man's hat. I want to be the kind of woman who cuddles with her husband and watches sappy romance movies at night. I want to be the kind of woman who takes her laptop outside and works hard all day long in the sun. I want to be the kind of woman who jams out to Taylor Swift songs and fixes macaroni and cheese for dinner. I want to be the kind of woman who plays in the water and makes sandcastles along the shore. I want to be the kind of woman who sings into a hairbrush microphone and dances in her bathrobe. Most of all, I want to be the kind of woman who takes life's cruelties as they come, but stays strong and happy through it all.

And with the right kind of help, the right kind of support, and the right kind of love, I can be that woman.

***

After about an hour in the dinky cell, I start attempting to free myself. Wriggling my wrists slightly, I try to slip off my bonds. There are no loose nails or anything that could help me in the room, and even if there were, I wouldn't be able to get there because I'm tied to the chair. My gun was taken from me when Blake captured me, but thankfully he didn't notice the knife or blueprints, which are safely concealed in my pockets.

Suddenly, I hear a noise. It sounds like a human voice. Seconds later, the door to my cell swings open. Expecting Blake, I make no sound. Instead, I hear a familiar voice call, "Alex?" Sitting bolt upright, I answer, "Chad?"

Swiftly he makes his way over to me and cuts me loose. Rubbing my wrists where the rope bit in, I stand up, though a bit shakily at first. Reaching a hand out, he steadies me until I can walk alone. Then we both dash for the door.

Once we're out, Chad grabs my arm and says, "Come on. We need to get out of here." He tries to pull me forward, but I resist and say, "What about the others? Have they been rescued yet? And what are you doing here, anyway?" "I sometimes come downtown to watch street fights and help the gangs fight. As for the others, I met up with Chace and Tony a while back, and they said the rest of their men were captured." I nod. "Yeah, Zoe, Denny, Tristan, and Jake are all captured. Max and Ty are outside, so unless something happened I assume they're fine." "Okay," Chad says. "Let's go rescue your boyfriend and the rest of his gang."

With grim determination, we set off on a mission that we absolutely have to succeed at.

AN: SORRY FOR THIS TERRIBLE AND BORING CHAPTER!!! And sorry for dragging this whole gang thing out for so long. Anyways, next update will likely be tomorrow or Monday. Comment below how you liked this chapter and don't forget to vote!

All my love,

Em