A/N: Oh wow, guys. How's it going? Its been a while. I know some of you are probably not too happy at me right now. I'm sorry for taking so long to update this. Truthfully i just got bored with this and i didn't know what to write. Then when i tried writing again i completely forgot what was even going on so i had to re read some things. But all that really matters is that i actually finished this chapter! Yippeeee! So, i'm going to do a quick shout out to all of the people that reviewed last time but i'm not going to answer the questions because a lot of you that asked the question back then probably don't care anymore and/or aren't even going to read this. So here you go:

Thank you Whitney A, Raksha Souza, suzi1811, LyssaL97, SweetDreamzz3116, moon-called-princess ;D, obssessedcrazedbookworm, Bookninja15, yaneis, BeachBallofLove, Nerd95, XNatsumiX, and Miya3281 for all your lovely reviews. They are truly what keeps me from giving up! I love you guys!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Darkest Powers series.

"Leave!" he roared, the muscles in his back forming bridge like ridges. I jumped back, stumbling over my feet. My thumping heart sped. I grabbed my dirty clothes from the bathroom and high-tailed it out of there. That was the last time I would ever try to help Derek. He was nothing but a mean, grumpy man who had no heart. (And so what if I was being a little harsh. He treated me like dirt on the bottom of his shoe. Stomping me out and spitting on me while I was down.)

Grabbing the keys from the hook downstairs, I got into his car and speed off not even bothering to look back.

I gave in to the smooth, gliding feel of the car's leather seats, following the flow of traffic. I let all thoughts flow from my mind. I became numb, only feeling the road and my compulsion to get away. Nobody could stop me now. I would be able to do what I had to do and be on my merry way.

Meet a girl named Scar in a coffee shop.

Get answers from her.

Hope I didn't get killed or captured in the process.

Nothing big.

Thinking nice, positive thoughts was kind of hard to do considering the situation I was about to put myself in. There was always the what ifs.

What if the voice in my head was wrong?

What if Scar knew nothing?

What if I should have just stayed at home?

But what I had to remember was that the what ifs might not always be bad.

What I got answers?

What if I got my memories back?

What if I was finally able to feel complete?

I wasn't content with the slow and painful process that my memories arrived through. The hurt that they came with was too much to handle. I needed some source of finality. Either I was going to get all my memories back at once or get rid of the ones I that had already come. And what scared me the most was that I still 90 percent sure that they wouldn't all return. Truth be told, I had a feeling that I would always be stuck in the deep pit of the unknowing, where everything that was lost came to live and never be found. My only tiny tendril of light, a metaphorical rope if you will, was this unknown character. A girl by the name of Scar whom may be able to hoist me up higher and higher to understanding. The sexy sweet voice in my head would lead me to her. And then I would go on living Happily Ever After. The end.

I shook my head and gripped the black leathered wheel as I looked back to shift to the far right lane. For me there would never be a happy ending. Maybe an "Eh That Was So-So" Ever After but happy? My happy days came some time before this mess, back in the memories that floated just out of reach and forced me to live in my own pool of self-induced sludge. My life was an extra large coffee with double shots of gloomy.

And on top of it all, I had a pissed of werewolf wishing me dead. Now, things with Derek were never good. Ask me to name one time when we actually got along and I could come up with . . . zero times. Tops. Even in the short spike of a memory I had been oh-so-nicely blessed with we had been fighting. So obviously it wasn't just me picking fights with him out of nowhere. We had a history of it—one that I may not have been able to remember most of, but a history all the same. But don't be fooled—I tried to keep things nice. I tried, but it was hard, and he was being . . . him. And I was just too tired to play games. So I forfeited. Sue me. I gave in and ran away. And, yeah, there were some times before that when I was slightly unkind to him (okay, maybe I was borderline cruel), but I had my reasons. And after all was said and done I had accomplished what I set out to right? Be nice, cover the fact that we despise each other, and snatch his pretty little car for a day of adventures. It had ended in less than nice terms but the results don't lie. Glancing around now could tell me that I had won. Just look at where I was: riding high in his precious car, escaping a future of guessing and not knowing. I was steering the wheel of my own life.

I veered off to the left sharply. My thoughts had left off in la-la-land and I had almost missed my turn. Following along behind a line of cars, I broke off the interstate and pulled into a little town. It wasn't the first city I had come upon. Travel time here had been about forty minutes. The city was small, nothing like the one Tori, Kit, and I had lived in before. A few roads split outward from the city, showing signs of neighborhoods and other such places. Following the road straight lead me further into the town. It consisted of nothing much more than a few shops—antiques mostly, a few pottery barns shuffled in, and of course your local bakery/coffee fix—but what I was interested in was the commercial part of town. The place not too much farther down where the road suddenly became silky smooth and built with newly spilt asphalt instead of the old, pot ridden, grey kind. The trees looked sunnier even as their leaves crumbled and fell to freshly mowed lawns, and every sign that I passed held a freshly painted look to it. Entering this new part of the city was like finding myself on another side of a mirror. Everything was the same but something in the way I saw it, the way my eyes found the light in every window, and my ears found even the tiniest of chirps from the passing birds, made this different. Suddenly, all my fears and worries evaporated, seeping into the cool leather seat and turning into warm strokes that vibrated like a chemical buzz through my body. I felt high in a way that I never had before—not that I knew much about being high. Or anything really. But this feeling. If this was how druggies felt when they shot up or an alcoholic drank another bottle of fine wine, then I could almost excuse them. I think it was the way my fingers tingled ever so slightly, slowly heating. Then my feet would start to feel antsy, like they knew a dance that just had to be done. And the feeling that entered your head—it was dizzying. Electrifying. So utterly impossible that only one thing could be inducing it: magic. Whether the magic was real as in wands and murmured spells or chemically compacted, it was magic all the same.

Hello, Chloe.

It was the voice. Her words spoken like paper rustling in the wind. Low, fluent vowels carrying through the air. Every sound made was a second savored. Every lift in the voice was another pill to my high. I was addicted to every second of it and I wanted more.

Chloe . . .

Yes, yes, I'm here.

Undoubtedly. You remember why you're here, Chloe. Correct?

Of course I do. I could never forget.

As I see. You've done so very well, Chloe. But are you ready for the next part? I can't have you breaking on me. You need to be on your very best look out. You never know where danger lurks.

I understand. I won't get caught. There's too much at stake. But you'll help me keep an eye out, right?

Yes, of course I will, darling. Don't worry; mother will keep all the bad guys away. Now, focus. Remember the task at hand. Never lose focus of what you have to do. It's when you do that they snatch you up and lock you in their dungeon. A pretty princess never to be found with only her pretend ghost friends to keep her company.

Haha, yes, well let's keep that from happening, why don't we? Just focus. focus. Focus. FOCUS. FOCUS! . . .

A blaring noise. A long, incessant stream of sound that bubbled in my ear like a stain of icy, hot lava. It stung.

"Gah!" I jerked my head up. The stinging stopped. The noise vanished as if it was nothing but a vaguely annoying bug the whole time. My fingers shook, still feeling the breath-taking high. Bringing my fingers to my chest, I rested them against my heart and listened to the constant, if not slightly erratic, thumping. Even my heart understood the magical feeling the voice brought and the slightly strange high that wiggled its way into my body.

I released a pocket full of air I had been holding, and I un-clenched my jaw, unlocking my teeth from my bottom lip and allowing a trickle of blood to drip from the corner of my lip. Grabbing at an unused napkin I found squeezed into the compartment between the two front seats, I dabbed away the blood, and with it, any nerves. I allowed myself to settle and find a place where I could keep my cool. I pictured my room with its unconventional messiness and strawberry scented candles. I saw my bed with the covers thrown halfway on the floor and the pillows pushed in between the wall and the bed frame. Junk was over flowing from my closet, and a picture of me and Tori sitting on the couch eating Chinese had fallen over onto the floor. Nothing was how it should be. Nothing had a place. It was my get away from a life where I needed everything to be organized. It was my safe haven when things got tough, and I just needed a rest from trying to be perfect. It was the place I wanted and needed and couldn't have all at the same time.

And I slammed its door shut. While it calmed me it, also brought forth a distraction. A distraction that I didn't need. My mind was sharp. My toes were pointed, and my ears were alert. I was ready. Or least I was going to have to do my damn best to pretend I was. The voice was counting on me to do my part and I would not let it down. Not if it was the last thing I did.

It took a few shakes of my head and a couple knocks to the brain, but I finally realized that I was parked. As in I had unconsciously finished driving to Starbucks and parked the car. Now, while I was sure there were some incredibly talented people out there who could do this, I was pretty sure I was not one of them. My talents zeroed in at taking to the dead, and even that specialty was waning. My only speck of an idea as to how I had parked the car was that the high I had felt had induced some sort of inter-mind connection and allowed me to sub-consciously finish driving to Starbucks and park. Crazy sounding much? Whatever, I was done trying to understand things that made no sense. From then on I was going to go with the flow. I was a free bird riding the wind waves.

I pulled down the mirror above me. Quickly glancing over my face—two eyes, one nose, lips, ears—I reassured myself that I was fine. Everything was going to be fine. Then before I could talk myself out of it, I shoved the door open and heaved myself out.

The cold fall air automatically chilled me off, and my arms became freckled with goose bumps. In my rush to get away from Derek and all that he entailed, I had forgotten a jacket. Sure, long sleeves were swell, but when they were the only thing lasting between you and the rushing mid-day wind they appeared less enticing.

I made my way into the store, hugging my arms against my chest. A line of men and women all dressed in warm coats or jackets stood similarly. The inside of the Starbucks looked like any other. There was the counter, marble of course. The freshly polished machinery. And the cozy sitting area where four large, grey arms chairs sat leaving the one lonely love seat to ponder in its abandoned state. Small wooden tables were spread evenly throughout the small space with black chairs resting peacefully around them. A couple of men dressed covertly in plain black dress shoes and blue pinstriped shirts shared a larger table, each connected to a laptop and tapping away on an opened document page. The walls were colored in the forgettable brown shade that was supposed to create a soothing effect, and smells of coffee and small pastry treats wafted about the room, filling in the empty spaces where no people remained.

I rubbed my arms while non-conspicuously glancing around. There were only two or three girls here. One, a brown haired, pinch-eyed girl with lips stained too brightly red and wearing an awful baby barf yellow coat, lined up her drink against the back counter where she continued to pour a couple dozen packets of sweetener in what looked to be an already sweet tea. I had a hunch that she wasn't the sort of person Tori would ever hang out with, let alone try to keep in contact with.

I checked her off my list.

I moved into the line behind an old man grumbling about service and the price having to be paid to get a good coffee nowadays. I settled into a stance that I called: I-can-beat-you-up-while-looking-totally-relaxed, with my hip thrust outward and my right knee bent. My arms were kept locked together across my poor excuse of a chest.

The next girl I saw was a blond. Average height. Probably around a nine on the hot chart. She had those plump lips that guys liked so much, not to mention her curves which practically took over her body. She was like a volcano overflowing with curves and an overall sex appeal. Defiantly Tori approved. Only problem was she was wearing a black apron and an exasperated smile that showed that she was trying to be pleasant but so help you if you even think to ask for extra sugar for your coffee. Well, that and her name tag told me she was Emilee not Scar.

I sighed. The only other girl in the room was a brunette cuddling up close with her boyfriend, and I wasn't about to go up to her and ask for her name. So much for this being easy.

I reached the counter asking for a large hot chocolate with extra wiped cream and a shot of espresso. Coffee wasn't my ideal drink—ever—but I would need it to keep myself energized. It would be a miracle if I made it another hour without completely wilting into a pile of exhausted fumes.

"One Hot Chocolate with a shot of expersso," the lady working the counter said. "Have a nice day," she shouted as she turned back to fill another order.

I step forward and pick up my drink shifting through a number of options on what I could do next when BAM! I've got hot chocolate-coffee mess spilling all over the counter and my hands.

"Oh, Shoot," I muttered, jumping backward out of the puddle of spilt hot chocolate grabbing for a pile of napkins from the closest dispenser. My fingers soaked the white sheets into foggy brown rags not helping anything when I uselessly tried to sop up the mess made.

"I am so sorry," I muttered to the lady as she rushes back to the counter, eyes wide, mouth made circular.

"Just go," She said, shooing my hands away from the mess of paper towels and chocolaty drink. I agreed and slowly back away wiping my hands off on my jeans. A loud tiff came from behind me as a slim brunette with racy red heels and an outfit to match sauntered by making no attempt to hide her sarcasm as she rolled her big brown eyes and said, "Excuse me." Curvy pink lips tilted upward in a smirk and she threw her brown leather purse over her shoulder demanding her way through the line and to a side table resting against the window. She lifted her non-fat-zero calorie drink to her mouth and sips from the small plastic hole making a show of licking her lips ever so slowly before she set the drink back upon the table, glancing away to the tussling winds and stilled cars outside her window.

"Stupid idiot—" I muttered beneath my breath before cutting off sharply with a shake of the head.

No. It couldn't be. Not her, anyone but her. Yet . . . she was just bitchy enough, stylish enough, and loud enough to be a possible candidate. Possibly maybe someone Tori would hang out with. And as my eyes took another sweep around the room I couldn't find anyone else who could even begin to fit the picture of Scar. I could just imagine the way the girl's mouth must have curved—bending down in a sweet sultry sense as she spoke to who she thought to be Tori over the phone. I could hear the way her voice would ring with the high pitched squeal that could only be described as a pigs mating call as it matched the one of Scar's over the phone. Even from the two words she had spoken to me before, "excuse me," had been tainted with the rich feel of confidence that only someone as sure as Tori could handle hearing. It had to be her. Scar.

Don't doubt yourself, the voice said, returning to my head once again. Nothing will ever get done if you start to doubt your instincts.

The voice may have been right—as always—but it wasn't exactly doubt that kept me locked butt-in-chair two tables down from a brown haired beauty staring at her back while she sipped coffee and tapped her heels against the plastic leg of her chair. It was nerves. Well, nerves and the feeling that I was going to puke all over her nice, clean clothes. Not that she wouldn't be able to afford dry-cleaning . . . And a personal maid to hang the dry-cleaning once it was done. From the looks of it, she was loaded. Just another link to add onto the castle of Why Tori Would Want to be Friends with Her.

"Humph." I should just go. Leave, and drag my sorry butt back to the house, and live in an eternal stupor. Screw the past, right? It's the future that counts. Memories shememories, I didn't need them. I'd make new, better memories. Besides why am I so intent on remembering every bad thing that happened to me in my past? From the things I'd gathered none of it looked too good—more like something on a crappy supernatural television show. And what happens in crappy supernatural television shows? People die. They die then the remaining cast cries and forgets it ever happened to go on slaying the next super evil vampire villain. I would rather not go back to a life of television entertainment like stunts. If I turned around now and walked out those doors I could live a semi-normal life. Sure, living with werewolves and ghosts and wizards wasn't the picture of easy but I could make it work. No more crazy schemes just semi-normalness.

But I wasn't that stupid. I knew my life would never be "semi-normal" or anything close to it. The only way to reach my supernatural nirvana was to get answers and maybe solve the puzzle that was my life.

Cut the motivational shit, and get your skinny ass out there. She's not going to stay forever.

And then there was that. All it took was two words from the voice and I was back on track. I needed answers—and I sure as hell was going to get them.

I stood and started to walk over to her. Scar. My brain was doing flips, and questions were flying through my head a million miles a minute. Left foot lift. Fight foot step. Right foot lift. Left foot step. All the way to the table by the window. I stood there awkwardly blocking the sun from the window.

"Can I help you with something?" Her eyebrows were raised, shooting straight up to a point then subtly curving back down. Her lips stood pursed, bright pink. My fingers twitched against my legs nervously. I was staring. Crap. Crap. Crap. Stop staring! I opened my mouth to say something, but my lips—they were just so incredibly dry. And did I mention how hot it had gotten in here?

My head began to feel dizzy like it weighed far too much to be sitting atop my neck. How could something so small and fragile support something as big as my head? Not that my head was big but—off topic. Gears shifted in my brain grudgingly slow trying to return to the task at hand: Speaking.

"Are you okay? You look like you're about to faint!"

I shook my head in hopes to dismiss her words. If I could just say something. But my brain worked in funny ways. Sometimes I would find myself unable to stop talking, having to literally force myself to shut up, and then there were times like these when my jaw would lock, saliva would refuse to enter my parched mouth, and my brain couldn't be bothered to knock some sense in to either one.

And then I fell. Okay, not fell, more like largely stumbled. Falling would entail some part of my body hitting the floor. I caught myself before that happened—kind of. I caught myself after Scar jumped up to wrap both arms around my torso and force me into standing position. So, basically, I didn't fall.

"Oh, God," Scar muttered, clinching her fingers around my upper arm. "What do I do?"

She paused, her eyes wide in panic. Her fingers tightened harder and harder along my arm.

"Uhh," I tried. "Umm." My voice faded off, whistling away with the hustle and bustle of the busy coffee shop. My words would form correctly, as if a damp fog had laid siege to my tongue and forced it to stay put, nestled snuggly against the roof of my mouth.

"Shit," Scar cursed, digging her nails into my skin abruptly. "You need air. Fresh air. Okay? Alright, let's just . . . go outside." She nodded her head nervously as if she was reluctantly making a rash decision, and then quickly shuffled me out the door. She left our drinks at the table only taking the time to make a fast grab at her purse.

Outdoors my head felt clearer and my mental storm cleared long enough to allow me to understand what was going on. It was like this:

Walk, walk, walk, stumble.

"Shit."

Walk, walk, walk, stumble.

"Watch your step."

Walk. Walk. Walk. No stumble.

"You okay?"

Silence.

Then a rapid downward motion. Swaying. Swaying. And a sharp, bruising pain.

"Duck your head."

My head was shoved down and my body was propelled forward. I landed and on a cushion made with scratchy material and a hard metal spine. My eyes were closing. Closing.

Closed.

Don't worry, Chloe. It's all going to be okay.

And with those last words, I was gone.

I woke to complete silence and an absolute darkness. The kind of dark that clings to you making your breath come short and your fingers to tremble. All I could feel was metal, cold, slick metal. I touched my face, my legs, my stomach making sure it was all there. I wiggled all my fingers counting each one. I kicked out my legs but quickly brought them back in tucked safely to my chest. Everything worked. I was still alive. I wave of relief swept through me and I let out a small whif of breath. Then I worked my mouth. I moved my lips up and down I clicked my tongue, whispered words, little nonsense murmurs.

Where was I? I thought as I tried whispering a little louder.

"Hello?" I said.

Was anyone in the darkness with me? "Hello," I said again, this time raising my voice, trying to catch the attention of anyone around.

"Is anyone here?" My voice would caught and trembled, shooting up and down like a heart monitor rising and falling as sounds faded throughout the room. I waited. No one answered.

I tried again, repeating those two things: "Hello?" "Is anyone here?"

Still no answers.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, realizing keeping them open would do me no good. "Hello . . .?" I asked one last time.

The only voice that answered me was my own, bouncing back against the walls to mimic sounds of panic in my ears. No one was here; no one was going to help me. I was truly alone.

I wrapped my arms around my legs, resting my head on the tops of my knees. What was going to happen to me? Would I sit here forever locked in this same position? A mummy trapped in a metal casket buried beneath the confines of the earth.

But how did I get in here anyway? My head felt dizzy and my stomach turned with thick knots. Where had I felt this before? I racked my brain. Where was the last place I remembered being?

The coffee shop. Yes! I was with Scar. I had finally found her and then I had felt so sick. My mouth dry, stomach queasy. I vaguely remembered walking outside. A car . . . Then nothing.

So what did that mean? I had somehow been captured and taken away? Was Scar with me then?

Oh no. What if the cable found me and took Scar as a hostage. I had been trying to fix things not make a bigger mess! I didn't want to bring an innocent into this. How would I ever repay her? There's no way I could. There are some things that would leave a mark on you and nothing would ever be able to change that. And now along with my life, I've screwed up someone else's.

I scrunched up my face and hit my head against me knees. Okay, think. What could I do to make this better? Where did I even start?

Then I knew. I had to find a way out. If I was trapped in one of these metal boxes Scar probably was too. I would have to find her and get her out. It was the least I could do.

But the darkness. It went on forever, and just the thought of trying to maneuver my way through the thick darkness made me nauseous. I was never going to make it out. I would be trapped in this everlasting world of nothing. Soon I would die and then my body would disintegrate, blending into the cold metal until I was nothing more than a memory.

I would become my first memory. When I was trapped on that very first day. I found a door. But then there had been light to guide me. There was no light this time. I had no way of finding an exit. And I was too much of a coward to search.

And that made me think: how many others are there just like me? How many empty shells of people were there here, in this room possibly? Bodies trapped and destined for death. Made to be only memories that will fade, mixing with the air and sour taste of metal. How many of them were in here? Was I not alone? Maybe there was hundreds of dead inside of this room with me. I would never know. I didn't want to. It was easier to tell myself I was alone and no one would ever find me. Losing hope is infinitely easier than keeping it.

How easy would it be to close my eyes . . . and never open them, to stop thinking and keep it that way? If I never moved again and became a living corpse, how easy would that be?

What if I made myself one more promise? Would that be enough to keep me alive? Even if I stopped trying but held on to that promise would I be able to keep my heart beating? Maybe if I made it big enough—important enough.

One promise to change everything.

A/N: So how was it? Just as good as it used to be? Need some work? Why don't you tell me about it in a review?

Okay now about when i'll be updating. I probably wont have a new chapter up any time soon. I'm talking months. I'm on the school newspaper which takes up a lot of time and soaks up a lot of my writing ability. I will write the next chapter as soon as possible. But don't be afraid to yell at me if it takes too long. I need that motivation!

Bye, guys! -Winkadink