Okay, so I feel like you guys are going to absolutely crucify me for not updating in several months, and I don't really have an excuse but I sort of lost inspiration with this book when I started writing AFWHI.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter and I promise I'll try to update more regularly.

• • •

We are dragged out of the building, receiving stares like we're the ones in the wrong here.

Noah tries to fight off the stormtrooper that is holding him very securely to prevent his escape, but all that earns him is a punch in the nose, snapping his head back. His body goes limp as drops of blood from his nose splatter the pristine marble floor.

I start to struggle as I realise they're not taking me to the same place as they're taking Noah. Two vans, identical in size and colour are waiting just below the flight of steps that lead to the building. One has some sort of logo on the side and the other doesn't.

I thrash around in protest, hitting anything and everything that my hands come into contact with. The guard, clearly disapproving of this behaviour, purposely smashes the side of my head into the door frame as we walk through it.

From there, everything is a little fuzzy. I vaguely remember being thrown into the back of the van, but not having the strength to get up off the floor. I remember the trip being short, but I don't recall ever leaving the van. When I groggily open my eyes, I'm being carried this time, instead of dragged. When I turn my head I see cell upon cell. Each has three white walls, a toilet in the corner, and a forth wall made completely of bars.

I watch as we pass each one. Empty, empty, empty. I mentally chant as we pass each one. That is until I see a face pressed up against the bars.

"Oakley?" I croak, my voice sounding slurred in my own ears. His eyes are barely open, and his hands clutch the bars for dear life

His eyes flick upwards as he sees me, but he doesn't say anything.

In the next cell, Robyn sits squeezed into the corner, her knees tucked up under her chin. She doesn't even raise her head as we pass. Hector resides in the next cell, and Willow in the one after that.

The stormtrooper stops walking, and begins to unlock the door of the next cell. He walks inside, still carrying me, and gently sets me on the ground.

"Please," I beg. "You have to find Noah-"

"Shh," he whispers, interrupting me. "Don't make it worse than it already is."

With that he turns around, locking the door and disappearing. I'm left in complete shock at everything that has just happened. I always thought that stormtroopers weren't allowed to talk to us, or they weren't actually people under those masks, but this one is different. He didn't just throw me in my cell like the other ones would have, he was kind.

I drift in and out of sleep as I lean against the wall of my cell. I have a cut on my head from when that stormtrooper made me hit the doorframe, and it's healing extremely slowly. Something is wrong with me for sure. Well, a lot of things probably.

• • •

Footsteps. Footsteps coming this way. I back further into the corner if that's even possible.

It has probably been about a day since I was brought here. No food, no water and still no sign of Noah.

Panic would be an understatement for the way I feel. My stomach churns even as I think about it, threatening to make me physically sick. He's all I can think about all the time, and it's driving me insane. Every terrible scenario that could happen plays over and over in my head relentlessly and I can't make it stop.

The footsteps continue to get closer until they stop completely outside my cell. The keys jingle as my door is unlocked, and I look up slightly.

A stormtrooper drags Noah by the arm, pushing him into the cell and locking it again without looking back.

I shoot up from the ground and hug the hell out of him. He lets out a grunt of pain but hugs me back, pushing his face into my hair.

"You scared me to death," I accuse, squeezing him more tightly. "I thought you weren't coming back."

"I thought I wasn't going to make it back at one point either," he replies with a hiss of pain. I loosen my grip on him.

"What did they do to you?" I ask, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him around. The back of his shirt is covered in blood.

"Lift my shirt," he tells me, which is easier said than done. His shirt is stuck to the skin on his back, so I have to peel it off. This is obviously excruciatingly painful for him, and I can feel him tensing under the palms of my hands. The further I peel his shirt upwards, it becomes clearer to me as to why it's hurting him so much.

There are squares of skin missing from his back. They start right above the waistband of his pants, and finish at his shoulders.

"Please tell me they didn't do this while you were awake," I say as I help him out of his shirt.

"In the words of Viktor, I would be a waste of anaesthetic, but he was kind enough to strap my hands and feet to the table so I didn't kick anyone, while they removed my skin with scalpels."

Those bastards. I'll decapitate them. All of them, with an axe. Then I'll feed them to my dragon, but it would be more painful to just give them to me dragon alive...

"Princess?" Noah says, looking into my eyes to see if I'll respond.

I blink. "What?"

"What was going on in that little head of yours just now?" He asks curiously.

"I was planning murder."

He frowns. "How often do you do that?"

"Plan murder?" I ask, earning a nod. "Quite a lot."

"You're very violent."

"It's one of my best qualities," I reply. "Now lay on your stomach on the ground," I say, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Seriously Princess, I know you're new to the whole sex thing, but that's not how you do it," he jokes.

I lightly smack his arm, rolling my eyes. "No matter how hard you try, you'll just never be funny."

"Ouch, when did you get so harsh?"

I give him the look. "Just do as I say."

He smiles coyly. "Persuade me."

"If you don't let me heal you, your back will get infected and you'll die," I say bluntly. "There, persuaded?"

"No, not that kind of persuading."

"We're in a prison cell," I say. "It's not really the place."

He waves his hand dismissively. "Babies are born in prison all the time."

"I'd rather die than have a baby in a prison cell," I say pointedly. "Now get on the ground before I push you over."

"Fine," he groans, making his way onto his hands and knees, he then eases himself onto his stomach. I sit cross legged on the floor next to him, gently placing my palms on his skin, or lack of it.

It doesn't appear too painful for him, but it does take a while, considering the sheer amount of repairing his body has to do.

• • •

Both of us sit against the wall of our cell. I'm bored, hungry and thirsty, but at least I have company.

I turn my head to look at Noah's profile. He has a prominent jaw line, and his nose isn't quite straight.

"Have you broken your nose before?" I ask. I figure that we may as well have a conversation seeing as there's nothing else to do.

He nods. "I broke it in sixth grade."

"How?"

He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. "You ask lots of questions, Princess."

"Then answer them dumbass."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine," he mutters. "Well you might find it hard to believe, but I wasn't always this buff."

I snort, causing him to shoot me a glare. "Hey! I had to work for these guns." He flexes, giving me a full show of his biceps. I'll admit it, they're pretty impressive, but he doesn't need to know that.

I smack his arm. "Just continue with the story."

He lets his hand drop into his lap. "Okay, well I was the skinniest kid in sixth grade, and had no clue how to protect myself. There was this kid called Oswald-"

"Ew, who calls their kid Oswald?" I ask in disgust.

Noah grins. "Oswald's parents obviously. Anyway, he was a tall, chubby kid, and used to pick on me because I was smaller than him. He used to yell out cruel names when I was on the playground and all the other kids would laugh. Occasionally he'd shove, or trip me and claim it was an accident when I skinned my knees. But one day he took it too far. I was in the bathroom at school, washing my hands, and he walked in, grinning wickedly when he saw me. I remember thinking my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I was terrified and he knew it. He walked behind me, and I thought he was just going to give me a shove and leave, but he didn't. Instead, he grabbed the back of my head and smashed my face as hard as he could into the mirror on the wall."

My mouth drops open. How could the school not have put a stop to that before it got so bad?

"The mirror shattered, and so did the cartilage in my nose," he continues. "There was blood everywhere, and I remember thinking that I was genuinely going to die. When I turned around, Oswald was still standing there with a look of shock on his chubby face. He never meant to do that much damage, but he still went through with it, the little shit."

"So what'd you do?" I ask eagerly, really hoping for a good ending to the story.

His face splits into a grin. "I socked him in the face so hard that I broke his nose, and he fell backwards into a stall. This stall happened to be hinged wrong, so the lock was on the outside. I stood over him, my blood dripping on him, and I told him that if he told anyone about this, or picked on me again, I'd kill him and feed him to my dog. Then I locked him in the stall and left. I figured it was payback because he'd done it to me numerous times, and I'd been able to shimmy under the door. He obviously couldn't do that and was locked in there all day."

"Anyway, they never could get my nose quite right after that."

"Did Oswald ever pick on you again?" I ask curiously, my eyes widening.

He shakes his head. "Nope, he never even went near me again."

I grin. Karma's a bitch, isn't that right Oswald?

"Good story," I tell him, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Got anymore?"

He hums audibly. "No, I don't think so, but maybe if you tell me a story, something will come to me."

"Fine," I huff. "When I was five, I thought I could fly. My sister, who was probably eight or nine at the time, told me that people couldn't fly. I was so angry at her that I decided to prove her wrong. I climbed onto the roof of the shed we had in the garden, a red blanket tied around my neck as a cape and I jumped."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

I shake my head, a small smile forming on my lips.

"How?" Noah asks. I can hear the frown in his voice.

"My dad caught me. He didn't try to stop me from jumping, but he was there to make sure I wouldn't fall. That was his approach to fatherhood. let us make our own mistakes, and catch us when we fell."

After a short silence I smack Noah lightly on the chest. "There, you got your story, now tell me another one."

He scratches his forehead. "Alright, here's one," he clears his throat. "Once upon a time there was a guy. He wasn't a very nice guy. In fact, he was kind of an asshole. Anyway, there was also this girl. She was fiery, and feisty, and she was always much more caring than him. They didn't get along at all but they were forced to spend time together. At first they really couldn't stand each other, but as more and more people disappeared, they became closer, and they figured out that they actually made a really good team."

He looks at me. "Do you know what happens in the end?"

I slake my head. "Tell me."

"The guy ends up loving the girl."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

He nods. "Really."

"Okay, so what about the girl?" I ask curiously. I mean he's obviously talking about us, but I like talking about us and his perspective on it.

"I don't know, what do you think?" He asks with a smile.

"I think that she doesn't love a lot of things in this world, but she loves him," I reply, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"I love you too, Princess."

I go to sleep with his voice echoing through my mind.

• • •

Yep, so this is another authors note where I have absolutely nothing to write. So...just stay sassy everyone.

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Until next time.