THE NEXT HOUR was a blur.

My parents whisked me away from the hospital as quick as they could, not giving me time to say goodbye to anybody there.

They lead me to the back entrance of the hospital, where delivery vehicles arrived. As soon as the heavy door was open, all I could see were flashing lights. I could hear the crowd of people yelling questions at me.

"Scarlett! Is it really you?"

"Can you tell us about the man who kidnapped you?"

"How did you escape?"

"Tell us how you feel, finding out you're basically American royalty!"

"Can you really not remember anything?"

As I was assaulted with questions, my father shooed off the cameras and my mother did her best to get me into a waiting town car. Somebody I assumed to be hospital security finally arrived to push back the crowd and my mother and I finally got into the back of the car, my father following suit.

The car moved slowly at first, probably to avoid hitting the bodies crowded around, desperate to capture a photograph of the taken girl. As the car picked up speed, I felt myself falling asleep, lulled by the whispers of my parents beside me.

My peaceful sleep was disturbed by the sound of a woman's voice calling my name.

"Scarlett, baby, wake up. We need you to get on the plane," my mother murmured. "I know you're sleepy hon, but you can sleep on the plane."

I opened my eyes halfway, my vision clouded with sleep. I blinked quickly. I looked out the window to see a large plane on an abandoned air strip.

I must be dreaming.

I felt my father putting a strong arm around me and pulling me from the town car. With his help I stumbled up the ramp and into the massive airliner. Gently, he set me down in a seat. I sank into it, enjoying the feel of the soft, buttery leather under my hands and I pulled my legs up under me, still hazy with sleep.

Just as I drifted back into the darkness, I felt someone wrapping a plush blanket around me, tucking me in.

My last thought before I drifted into the black abyss was...

This is how it should've been.

Like every other night, my sleep was anything but peaceful. My eyes fluttered open, and I was back in the basement.

I shivered, cold chilling me deep into my broken bones. My shoulder ached and my left arm hung limply at my side. My field of vision was faded and dark around the edges.

I heard the familiar sound of the lock clicking as the door opened. He strode in, turning on the light. The room went white before fading back into focus, a harsh light emanating from the bare bulb swinging above my head.

He knelt down in front of me and put his hand on my bare thigh. "Now, I'm sorry about earlier, Angel. You know I get a little mad sometimes," he cooed.

My gaze fell to his hand on my leg, knuckles bruised and bloody. I knew a matching bruise had found a home on my right eye.

A sickening grin spread across his face. "You'll just have to make sure you behave next time, so none of this has to happen again." His face was too close to mine and I could smell the bitter alcohol wafting off his breathe. "What say you come upstairs and we watch a movie? Maybe you can make it up to me, okay, Angel?" He grinned again and I shuttered, his name for me hanging in the air around us.

Despite myself, I nod. "Can... Can I have my nightie back? And my blanket?"

Anger flashed across his face and his hand twitched on my leg. I resisted the urge to flinch.

I shouldn't have asked.

"Maybe..." he replied, his voice tense with frustration. "If you apologize and show me what a good little Angel you are, maybe I'll get you a new nightie."

I nodded and stood up, my feet bare on the concrete floor. I wobbled for a moment, the world fading out of focus for a moment before I righted myself. He grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs.

My eyes opened slowly, and I was certain I'd see the worn wall of the basement again.

Instead, I found myself back in the airliner, my parents seated across from me.

My mother gave me a warm smile when she noticed my open eyes. "Well hello, Sweetheart. Welcome back to the Land of the Waking."

My father chuckled. "We just landed a little while ago, but we didn't care to wake you. You looked so peaceful."

Quite the opposite, actually.

I sat up straight in surprise. "You mean we're here?" I said excitedly.

"Well, we're at the landing strip just outside of Bridgeport. The house is just a short drive from here," my mother informed me. "We're ready whenever you are."

I nodded and stood up, too quickly. My head spun, but I shook it off. "I'm ready. I want to go home."

My mother and father stood up and my mother motioned for me to lead the way. "After you, Darling."

We made our way to exit the plane, led by a man in a suit I assumed to be the pilot. Outside of the plane, a town car waited for us on the tarmac. A tall man in a black suit with blonde hair and a scruffy beard got out of the driver's side and opened the back door for us. We slid in and he closed the door softly behind us.

The drive home passed quickly. My mother and father talked up a storm, describing the house and the neighborhood. They talked about my father's job and my mother's charity work. But I could hardly hear them.

I was too busy thinking about the life I was about to start. A real life, outside of the basement in that cabin. A real life, with friends and boys and people to love me and care about me. I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn't realize the car had come to a stop.

"We're home, Scarlett," my mother's voice interrupted my daydreams.

And I certainly didn't notice the sprawling home in front of me.

I looked out the window at the sprawling house. It was made of grey brick and looked to be a perfect rectangle. The dark grey roof had four perfect chimneys in four corners and featured two tiny white windows sticking out from it. More white picture windows lined the two storeys in perfect rows, some of them framed with black shutters, others by green vinery. A large white archway framed the large, black front door, a lattice bay window directly above it. Beautiful, colourful gardens lined the front of the manor.

I took it in with awe. Dr. Michaels had told me that my parents were successful. But I'd never thought that a house so big and prefect could be my home. "This place is huge..." I murmur under my breath, getting out of the car and standing on the cobblestone driveway.

Internally I rolled my eyes. 

Great, way to sound like a five year old, Scarlett.

My parents came to stand behind me, both of them chuckling lightly at the look of amazement on my face.

"Yes, dear, it is quite large," my mother said through her giggles. "Now, would you like to go inside or just stand here memorized for a while longer?"

My eyes widened and I nodded my head enthusiastically. Before I could stop it, words flew out of my mouth. "I want to see my room."

I don't miss the look of sadness cross my father's eyes.

My mother smiled, a look of pain disappearing before I could even register it. "Okay, Sweetheart, let's go inside."

Together we walked up the driveway and through the door, which a kind looking woman in a black dress opened for us.

We stepped into a large entryway and I physically spun in a slow circle to take it in. The ceilings were high and white, with intricate patterns etched in them. The walls were a pale turquoise and covered in expensive looking paintings in gold frames. Above our heads hung a large crystal chandelier.

"It's so amazing," I murmured.

My mother giggled lightly. "I'm glad you think so, dear. It's your home."

My own home.

I grinned at her. "I can't wait to see the rest of the house!" I sounded like a child.

My father chuckled. "While I'd love to show you around, I'm afraid I have to be getting to the office. You'll just have to settle for your Mother as tour guide."

She laughed gently and swatted his arm. "On your way, you!"

He grinned at her, his face lighting up. "I'll be home as early as I can, Love. I'm looking forward to dinner with both of my beautiful girls."

To my surprise he leaned down beside me and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I didn't even feel the need to jump away.

He smiled again, directing it down at me. "Have a good day, Sweetheart."

I smiled up at him genuinely. "You too, Daddy!"

He seemed pleased with our exchange as he turned and headed back out the front door.

I turned back to my mother and she clasped her hands together in front of her chest. "Alright, now what would you like to do? We have the whole day to do whatever your heart desires."

I thought for a moment before I shrugged. "When I think about it, I really don't know what to do." I couldn't help the small frown that fell on my face.

My mother offered me a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Scarlett. I can think of a few things if you'd like."

I nodded and turned my lips up in a small smile. "I'd be good with that."

"How about I show you around the house for a bit, then we can do some shopping. You could use a wardrobe beside that one outfit."

I tensed. "I don't know if I'm ready to go to a mall or anything like that yet..."

My mother shook her head and waved off my comment. "Oh don't worry, Sweetie. I didn't mean go out. I was going to call our stylist to come over and bring some things you could try," she paused. "If you're comfortable with that, of course."

I took a deep breath before I nodded. "I'm comfortable with that. After all, I do need stuff to wear."

My mother clapped. "Wonderful! I'll call the stylist right now to set it up!" She reached into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. Quickly she dialed a number and pressed the phone to her ear. After a moment, she spoke cheerfully. "Hello, Nicole, it's Charlotte Grey," she listened to the woman on the other end for a moment before continuing. "I'm wonderful, dear, thank you. Now, I was hoping you could bring some outfits to the house today... No, no, not for me. For my daughter, Scarlett... Perhaps a size smaller than myself. I trust your judgment," she smiled. "Perfect. We'll see you in an hour, dear." She hit a button on her phone before slipping it back in her purse and turning back to me. "She'll be about an hour. In the meantime, care for some breakfast, Sweetheart?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes, please! Hospital food was getting a bit old."

"Follow me, the kitchen is this way," she said, walking away.

I followed her into a large yellow kitchen full of white appliances and beautiful granite countertops. She looked around cluelessly before settling for putting a couple of bagels in the toaster. I could tell she wasn't used to the whole mothering thing, but at least she was trying her best.

It was better than I could have ever hoped for.

Afterwards, I sat with her in the sunroom, enjoying orange juice and our burned bagels. When we were done, she took me on a tour of the main floor.

She showed me the living room, the great room, the study and the guest suite, all of which were larger than the entire cabin I had been held captive in most of my life.

I followed her upstairs after, and she showed me around the many bedrooms and bathrooms. Before long, we found ourselves in front of the last door on the right.

My mother took a deep breath. "And this... is your room," she murmured, a sad look in her eyes. "I know you've been eager to see it, but you need to know something, Sweetheart."

I looked back at her, confused. "What is it?" I asked.

I saw a single tear slip down her cheek. "When you were... taken... Your father and I were crushed," she motioned to the door. "This room has been closed up for nine years. It's just how you left it... when you were six years old."

I felt my face fall. I hadn't thought of that.

My mother gave me a sad smile. "Now, I didn't mean to upset you. I simply mean not to expect much. But it's still your room. We'll have it redone, however you like, so that it can truly be yours."

I shrugged. "I never really thought about it until now-" I realized then that I had been avoiding calling my mother by any name. I considered it for a moment. "But, Mum, I never had a room. I don't have expectations. I'd be okay in the linen closet if that's what you gave me," I gave her a genuine smile. "Having my own room is what brings me joy, not what it looks like," I paused dramatically. "Not that I'll pass up a free room makeover."

That got a chuckle out of her. "Oh, come here, Scarlett," she murmured before pulling me into a light, adoring hug.

And I let her.

She pulled back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. "Come on now," she said, turning towards the door and opening it slowly.

"This is your room," I heard her say before a wave of heartbreak crashed over me.

I stepped into the large room and looked around. It was large and it was pink, with a small white princess bed and toys strewn around. There was even a small white dress laid out on the bed, waiting for a girl who would never return.

I looked around the room and all I could see was what could have been.

Playing dolls with my friends.

My father reading me stories before bed.

Sleepovers with my best friends.

Late nights slaving over homework at my desk.

My mother drying my tears after my first break-up.

Everything that should have been...

And would never be.

I looked away before my mother could see the tears welling in my eyes. I composed myself and shrugged. "The Barbie poster has to go."

My mother laughed and the doorbell rang, just loud enough to make you jump. "That would be the stylist," she said excitedly. "You go ahead through there into the dressing room, I'll go let her in," she pointed towards a white door on the far wall before turning and leaving the room.

I followed her directions, walking through the door into a closet almost the size of my bedroom. All sides of the room were covered in clothes, from pink and yellow dresses to little tiny shoes. Obviously, all from my childhood.

I felt a twinge of sadness just before my mother entered the room, followed by a tall brown haired woman. She looked polished and stylish in an open suit jacket, dress pants and heels. She gave me a huge smile when she saw me. "You must me Scarlett. I'm Nicole, your parents' stylist," she walked over and offered me her hand. I shook it sluggishly, likely showing my discontent. She ignored it, keep her face bright. "Wow, you look so much like your mother."

I pursed my lips. "Hello. Thank you, and thank you for coming out here."

She chuckled, putting a hand on her hip. "I wouldn't have it any other way, love," she clasped her hands together. "Now, are you ready to try on some clothes?"

My attitude shifted with her words and a grinned, bobbing my head. "Am I ever!"

My mother and the stylist both laughed at my enthusiasm. Nicole exited the room, only to return momentarily with an armful of garment bags. She made room on a rack and hung them up before turning to me. "Now, which outfit would you like to try?"

I walked over to the rack and pawed through the clear bags, taking in the colours and styles of clothes.

Over the next hour we essentially played dress up. When I couldn't make a decision my mother or the stylist would offer their opinions or throw an ensemble at me. No matter what I put on, my mother kept insisting I looked beautiful or stunning. I, personally, believed she was just saying that as a mother. I found they either hung awkwardly on by skinny frame or clashed with my pale skin, but they both disagreed.

After exhausting all options, I collapsed onto a chair, desperately wishing I could take a nap.

Nicole finished hanging up the last outfit I had tried. "Did you have a favourite?" she asked.

I blew a lock of hair out of my face before pasting on a smile. "It's so hard to choose, they're all so lovely!"

My mother laughed. "We'll take them all," she told the stylist.

My eyes widened for a moment as I wihppd my head around to look at her. "Really? Thank you, Mum. That's amazing."

"Not a problem, Mrs. Grey," Nicole smiled. "I'll send you the bill tomorrow," she picked up her designer bag off of the floor. "I'll be on my way now!"

I waved to her as she headed for the door. "Thank you!"

She smiled and waved back before leaving the room.

Mum turned to me. "Now, which one would you like to wear for dinner tonight?" she asked waving towards my new clothes.

I thought for a moment before shrugging. "The black top was nice."

"I think you look beautiful in that, Scarlett," she smiled. "And so will your Father."

That earned a genuine smile from me as I hopped off my chair and grabbed a garment bag. My mother left the room and I changed out of my dress and back into dark jeans and a flowy black top that hid my tiny frame.

I headed back into my childish room, trying not to look around.

My mother smiled at me and nodded in approval at my outfit. I could have come out in a potatoe sack and she would have told me I was beautiful. "Your father should be home very soon. Why don't we head down to the dining room and wait for him?"

I nodded, eager to leave the pink room behind me. I was happy to have my own room, but I was eager to redecorate it. "Okay. Dinner sounds really good right now."

I followed her down to the dining room.

We sat at the dining table for half an hour, just talking. I learned as much as I could about her, and I liked what I heard.

My mother was a caring, compassionate woman. She was raised in England, her father an Earl or something. When she was twenty, she came to the US to study literature at Yale, where she met my father. They were married a year later. She pursued philanthropy, opting to support children's hospitals and orphanages when she found out she could never have a child of her own.

Apparently, I was a surprise to both of my parents, late in their lives. Despite what they had been told before, they had a beautiful baby girl.

Me.

Hearing about my mother, her drive and compassion, sparked something in me. A feeling completely unfamiliar to me.

Warmth spread through my chest and I found myself smiling.

For the first time I could remember, I felt love.