"My name isn't really Payton Woods, for starters." I start, trying to ignore the looks on everyone's faces. "My name is Emma Waters, and I used to be in the witness protection program before we crashed in the plane.

"When I was 16, I was walking back from the grocery store. It was sunset, so I knew I had to get home quickly or my mother would've thrown a fit. I was almost home when a blue SUV drove up behind me. I wasn't stupid, so I started walking a little faster, ignoring the SUV altogether. When I heard the door open I ran. Some part of me thought of how embarrassing it would be if the SUV wasn't trying to kidnap me.

"When the man finally caught up to me, I tried to scream out, but he put a cloth over my mouth. I knew what it was, so I just pretended to go limp, acting like it had worked. When he took it off, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Realizing his mistake, he knocked me out over the head with something.

"I woke up in a completely dark room, with a monster headache. I assumed that it was probably a basement because I heard dripping water from a distant pipe. I must've fell asleep again because when I woke up, he was there. He had different hair than what you saw, it wasn't military style short. I looked in his eyes and saw the evil glint in them and I thought, 'how could someone with such pretty blue eyes be so evil on the inside?' 

"Every night I would endure the same tortures over and over again. I would scream, but no one could hear me. I was there for three months, give or take a few days, when I finally heard something strange going on up stairs. At the time, I was only half conscious anyway, so I thought it was just a figment of my imagination. The doors opened up and a blinding light was pointed at me. It was a flash light, and he never used a flash light.

"When the police finally got me out of there, I had to spend a couple nights at the hospital, post traumatic stress or something. The police came to the hospital on the last day to ask me some questions. It was the obvious ones of course, but I also had something to ask them. I asked, 'what was his name' and they replied, 'Michael Spellman'. I told myself that I would never forget that name.

"Apparently when I had screamed before he knocked me out, someone had been able to write down descriptions of the car. They were able to narrow down the search with that description. I had unknowingly saved my own life.

"It had been two months since my rescue, when he had escaped from the county jail. To keep me safe, me and my family went under witness protection. We moved across the country and got new names. We were allowed to enroll in public schools so long as no one knew about our past, to try and keep me safe. But somehow Zoë had found out a couple months ago. She promised to tell no one and that was that. This was the first time I've seen him since then."

When I finished everyone was staring at me. Their faces were full of surprise, sympathy, and sorrow. I knew now that everyone would never look at me the same. My face was wet, and I realized that I must've started crying sometime when I was talking. I had never told anyone but Zoë that story, and now she was dead. It kind of felt good to get it off my chest though. It was like this massive weight that I had to carry around on my shoulders, and talking about it made it a little lighter.

"So, do we call you Emma or Payton?" Patrick summarizes his take on my little monologue. I laugh a little, I haven't laughed in forever. Or I haven't laughed in what felt like forever.

"Payton's fine, you guys are already used to calling me that anyway." I answer. They all nod in agreement.

"I bet you've heard it all before, but I'm really sorry for you." Lauren says. Her face was also full of sympathy. I had heard it all before. It was one of the reasons I was fine with having to move halfway across the country. Everyone at my old school would just give me these looks like it was my fault, or they would come up to me and apologize like it was their fault or something. 

"No, it's fine," I say, wiping away some of the tears from my face.

"But how did he end up working here? And be the head of interrogation or something?" Brandon wonders out loud.

"Maybe he always worked here, I mean, sometimes he'd be gone for days. He was probably up here working during that time." I wonder too. "We need to get to work on some other pressing matters, though."

"Like what?" Julian asks, the wheels already spinning in his mind. "Amy." He states, finally understanding what I'm getting at.

"Wait, what about Amy?" Brandon and Lauren say at the same time. They look at each other and giggle.

"Well, if they were able to find us and take us here, then what about Amy? They wouldn't of let her wonder around forever. She probably stumbled upon something and they took her here. But where is she?" Julian says before I can. 

"Why isn't she with us then?" The ever so reasonable Patrick inquires.

"Maybe they've found some sort of use for her. Maybe she was able to give them useful information about the crash or something." Lauren said.

"What if-" I'm interrupted by the door opening. It was a large metal creaking door, so the sound was hard to miss when it opened. In the doorway stood a silhouette that was hard to recognize at first, because the hallway was so much brighter than the dim room. When we all realized who it was, it gave me the chills. We were right

"Amy?"