It happened when Anne Faysher was still at work, when the world lost its meaning and turned upside down.

Anne sat at the register counter of the gas station where she worked at part time, keeping herself occupied with a magazine she had taken from the nearby rack. She was bored and eager to get this particular nightshift over with seeing as it was a Friday night and having to work from five to midnight was not how she wanted to start the weekend. Anne was supposed to be at a friend's eighteenth birthday party, but her boss had called her in at the last minute. The employee who normally worked Friday nights had gotten sick which left Anne as the next in line for the shift.

Tired of reading about the newest celebrity gossip, Anne put the magazine she was reading down and glanced at the clock.

It read 11:28.

Sighing wistfully, she knew there was still half an hour left before she could even think about closing the store. Her boss, the same one who guilted and coerced Anne into coming in that evening, had left early when he found out his wife had gone into labor. This left Anne to man the deserted gas station alone. The florescent lights buzzed in the stillness and the aisles echoed the silence. The stillness unnerved her; she felt like it was the silence before the storm. It did not help that the sidewalks around that part of Rockford were not always friendly to the lone person.

This shift is not worth the overtime I'm getting, Anne grumbled to herself, shifting on her feet and discovering her leg had gone numb from standing so long. Even with extra hazard pay, I should have told Mr. Gipson that I didn't want to stay here on my own for so long. Maybe I should have told Garrett to come early to pick me up so he could keep me company. At that thought she sighed and leaned her face into her hands. I wonder if Garrett even remembers he's supposed to pick me up. It wouldn't be the first time he's blown me off recently.

Garrett Redfern was Anne's oldest, closest friend, having met him over ten years ago. The moment they first met over ten years ago, an odd, unbreakable connection had sprung up between them. For the rest of elementary and middle school the two of them were nearly inseparable. Even when high school came around and they drifted into different circles of friends, they always managed to come back to each other like no time had passed.

This was the part of their friendship that confused Anne's other friends so much. Over the years, several of Anne's friends questioned her on how she managed to keep Garrett's attention for so long. To them, Garrett was an enigma. Where Anne was generally welcoming and friendly he was distant and aloof, his tall frame, piercing blue eyes, and direct stare intimidating most people.

But to Anne, Garrett was the person she trusted most, the person who knew all her secrets, dreams, and fears. She learned from the beginning that there was no way she could hide anything from him. Even when she did try to conceal times when she was upset or stressed, he could somehow see through her pretense. Not that this ability to see through the other didn't go both ways, because it most definitely did. Anne could read Garrett almost as easily as he could read her. Where most people met a rigid, expressionless exterior Anne edged behind that to meet with a sarcastically funny and outstandingly smart guy.

Unfortunately, things were changing. Sitting at the front register, Anne recalled how strange Garrett acted lately. He did not come to her piano recital, which he had known about for months, and was not returning any of her phone calls. Garrett also missed several school days, ruining his otherwise perfect attendance record. Even when Anne went to Garrett's house to look for him, his mother was there to make excuses for him.

Anne rubbed her temples, feeling a stress headache coming on. She knew that at least the last several years of their friendship were good even if, for some odd reason, Garrett was avoiding her now. She hoped those past years of friendship would be enough for Garrett to at least remember to drive her home in his truck at the end of her shift that night. With her car in the repair shop and her dad out of town for a business trip, she was sorely lacking in transportation. Anne had texted Garrett as a last resort asking if he could give her a ride home from work at midnight. His only response was the simple answer of "K" which Anne recognized as more than anything she had gotten out of him for weeks now.

Shaking her head in the hopes of displacing such depressing thoughts, Anne refocused on the corner convenience store in front of her. In order to keep any thoughts of Garrett out of her mind, Anne set her eyes upon a box of canned vegetables that sat next to the counter awaiting to be put away on their proper shelves. Moving around the register counter, she picked the box up and carried it to the aisle where its contents belonged. Setting it down, Anne started putting the cans in their places.

Just as she placed the last few cans of peas on the shelf, the small bell over the store's door rang out announcing the arrival of someone. With a sigh, Anne peeked around the shelf she was stacking. She figured it must have been Garrett arriving early. After all, with around twenty minutes until midnight and thus closing time, the odds of it being a late-night customer were slim.

But instead of the familiar long-legged figure of Garrett in front of her eyes, it was two men who walked through the door. Eyes widening with alarm, Anne took one look at the ski masks covering the men's faces and felt a trickle of fear slide down her throat. One of the men carried a small gun in his hands while the other held an old briefcase and a crowbar. She knew what was happening.

Robbery.

Anne snapped back behind the shelf she was restocking and tried to control her breathing so they would not hear her suddenly ragged breath. Just then she heard one of the men speak, "Where'd the chick go? She was 'ere a few minutes ago. I saw through da window." This voice sounded coarse and nervous.

Silence reigned for a few moments before another voice, deeper and colder than the first, spoke up. "You're right. She didn't leave; though, we woulda seen."

"Should I go look for 'er?" the first voice asked.

"Yea, do a sweep."

Quickly, Anne moved away from the aisle's entrance and tried to calm her racing heart. There was no way on earth that she could stop those thieves. Though Anne had taken some self-defense classes- after all, she lived in Rockford, Illinois which was one of the most dangerous cities to live in- they wouldn't help her in this situation. Her cell phone was with her bag which was under the register counter and while the office at the back of the store had a phone, her manager had locked it when he left. The silent alarm button was also under the register counter so that was out of the question in ways to notify the police. The only way out of this was through the back emergency exit.

With that as her destination, Anne began to back down the aisle, keeping her eyes on the entrance nearest the store's front where the robbers were and thinking if she could just get to the other exit she could get out alright. The store was insured; whatever money or merchandise the thugs took could be reimbursed. If they damaged anything it could be fixed. There was only one of her though, and she could not be replaced.

It was halfway down the aisle when Anne made a serious miscalculation. In her distress, she had forgotten the fact that she had just been restocking shelves, leaving empty boxes strewn across the open space. It was these boxes that ended up being her downfall.

As she was inching her way backwards down the aisle, she tripped on a box.

With a surprised cry, Anne went tumbling. She reached out her hands trying to stop her fall, but only managed to bring down a shelf of boxed cereal on top of her.

"Ouch," she gasped when she came into contact with the floor and felt the cereal boxes rain down on her.

Through the sharp pain that went through her body Anne heard the second voice call out. "What was that?"

"I don't know. It sounded like it came from the fourth aisle."

Anne whipped her head around to look at the sign that hung above the aisle's entrance. It displayed a large number 4 on it.

Then the second thief's voice rang out, "Go find out what it was."

Anne pushed herself up, knowing that all hope for secrecy was gone. She made a dash for the back of the store. Though she had never been a track runner, she had long legs. If she pushed herself, she could do it-

"Stop moving or I'll put a bullet in you."

Anne froze with her fingers just centimeters from the back door. So close. So unbelievably close, but too far away at the same time.

"Now turn around," came the gruff order.

She did so and found herself looking at one of the robbers, this one with the gun in his hand pointed at her. He was tall and lanky, but only a few inches above Anne's own height of five feet and eight inches. The thief held his weapon with a shaky hand as if he was not quite sure he wanted to use it.

The eyes behind the ski mask narrowed, their murky color reminding Anne of mud. He sneered at her showing yellow teeth, "Now walk to the front of the store. And remember," his finger twitched threatening on the gun's trigger, "no running."

Anne just stared, frozen where she stood.

The man stormed forward and ordered with more force, "Start walking NOW."

"I thought you would put a bullet in me if I moved," Anne said before she could stop herself.

The man's lips, which were just visible through an opening in the mask, turned down in a scowl. He moved forward and grabbed Anne's arm saying, "If you don't listen to me…something bad will happen." He dragged her down the aisle, the gun a sharp point against her back.

As she was forced down the aisle and around the corner, Anne saw the other thief filling the briefcase with the money out of the register. The crowbar he was carrying earlier sat on the counter next to Anne's bag having already served its purpose of forcing open the register drawer. All the contents of her own bag were strewn across the counter, her wallet open and empty of any money.

"Thought you were going to make a run for it was you?" The thief looked up from his task. This man seemed to be shorter, but broader than the gun-holding fellow. He smiled an ugly grin that showed jagged teeth, "Well you thought wrong."

"What are we going to do with her?" The man with the gun asked as he tugged Anne forward.

"Well we have a limited amount of time so there're not many options." These words sent shivers up Anne's back. "Bring her here."

The gunman shifted behind her and moved to grab Anne's arm again, "Move-"

She reacted instinctively when she felt the barrel of the gun move away from her back and the thief's grip loosened. Anne half turned, letting her back slide into the curve of the man's pulling arm. She brought her hands up and gripped the man's arm that held the gun. Hitting his wrist, she made the hand go slack and drop the weapon. She rammed an elbow in to the man's gut and heard him gasp when the air was knocked out of him with enough force to bruise. Ducking his swipe he tried to aim at her head, Anne kicked his feet from under him.

As the taller robber fell, Anne made a leap for the front door. She did not see that the other robber had finally realized she was escaping. He lunged forward and wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms against her side. Anne forced herself to go limp which caused him to lose his grip, but before she could do more then move an inch, one of her arms was jerked back and up behind her back in a painful position.

"You're not the only one who knows some fancy moves," the cold voice said into her ear. Pressure was put on her bent elbow and Anne cried out as sharp pains twisted their way up her arm. "Now be good, Sweetums, and listen to what I tell you to do."

"Stupid bitch," she heard the thief on the ground groan as he pushed himself up to his feet.

The man that held on to her turned, forcing Anne to do so as well. "Get the gun, idiot."

The other man, still cursing her, obliged. He handed it to his partner who then jabbed it against Anne's head. "One more attempt to escape, and you're dog meat. Now," this was directed towards his partner, "tie the girl up. There's not much cash in the register to pay off our debt to Armando so we're taking her with us." He leered at Anne, "the boys down town will like her. She's pretty and feisty, their favorite kind." He shoved Anne against the counter.

She caught herself, but winced as the edge hit her in the stomach.

"I really think that's a bad idea," she said as the man she elbowed came toward her with what looked like fishing line in his hands. "Robbery is one crime; kidnapping on top of that is completely different. That's just bad-"

"Shut up," the lanky man ordered, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him. He dug ragged fingernails into her skin causing her to wince. "If you knew what was best for you, you'd be quiet."

Anne tried to free her face from his grip, but could not. She then attempted to bring up her fist and deliver a blow to the robber's jaw, a pressure point that would render him unconscious. Before she could carry out the punch, she felt the cold metal of the gun against her head.

"That's not a very good way to treat somebody who has the bigger weapon, Sweetums," the robber who had stopped stuffing money into the briefcase said. "Maybe you're too much trouble after all... Maybe we should just get rid of you now."

"You'll get caught," Anne said desperately, "The store's cameras-"

"Are down for maintenance," the thief tying her hands told her, looking at her with a smile that could curdle milk. "No one will know what happened. You know…" Anne just stared at the robber as he smirked and leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "I've done it before…I've killed people, those that get on my bad side...it's not that hard, removing the blood stains is the hardest part of it all."

Anne found herself speechless and out of ideas; she did not know what to do. She ached from her ankle to her arms while her hands were now tied together so tightly that red lines were appearing where the fishing line dug into her skin. The thief who was tying her up grabbed a handkerchief from a nearby shelf and wrapped it around Anne's mouth making it impossible for her to cry out let alone speak.

As the man finished tying Anne up, the shorter one went back to putting the money in the briefcase, the gun in one hand, and the other doing all the stuffing. Anne glanced at the clock.

11:47.

She could hardly believe this boring night shift had turned into a nightmare in less than twenty minutes.

Suddenly the bell over the front entrance rang.

Surprised, terrified, and just a little bit hopeful, Anne whipped her head around to see who had walked into the corner store. At the same time she did this, the man at the register looked up from his thieving to also see who walked through the door.

Anne felt her stomach drop.

It was Garrett.

Black hair was pushed back from his pale face while sharp blue eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses widened as they took in the situation in front of him. Even with glasses, ripped jeans, and an old, grey t-shirt, he was amazingly handsome in an almost ethereal kind of way. On any other day, Anne would have been glad to see him, but now the sight of her friend made her vision sway. Now both of them were in trouble with no way out of it. The two robbers seemed slightly caught off guard and stood motionless, staring across the space between the newcomer and the three of them.

Then the robber who held the gun finally found his voice. In a gruff manner, he gestured toward the door Garrett just entered through. "Boy, you best turn around and forget what you've seen or you might not like the outcome."

Anne tried to signal Garrett to go with a flick of her eyes and a small shake of her head. Instead of listening to the robber's order, or paying attention to Anne's silent plea for him to leave, Garrett drew himself up to his full six foot three inches. He pointed to Anne. "I'll leave only if she comes with."

"Gar-" she started to say but her words came out garbled due to the gag over her mouth.

"Who are you to make demands?" The robber who tied her up moved forward and grabbed the crowbar off the counter. Anne felt her stomach lurch at the prospect of the crowbar swinging at Garrett.

While the robber hefted his crowbar menacingly, the other came around the counter dragging Anne with him, "He's right. One last chance kid, leave and don't come back."

Garrett swung his gaze back and forth from each robber. He almost looked bored by what was happening, like he didn't even care. "If I leave then I go get the police. Where's the fun in that?"

Anne stared at her friend deciding he had gone insane. The two robbers guffawed.

"Maybe he just wants her for himself," the crowbar-wielding robber said, "Doesn't like the plan we have for her."

"Who would like being kidnapped?" Garrett asked calmly. He shifted slightly and in front of her eyes, Anne watched as he went from a relatively relaxed and casual stance to one that was almost predatory, like a hunter spotting prey. She blinked and suddenly Garrett was in front of the man with the crowbar. Ten or twelve feet of floor and Garrett seemed to cover it in a millisecond.

"How-" she started to ask but again the handkerchief impeded her words.

The crowbar fellow was startled by the swift, almost impossibly fast movement, and said in a shaking voice, "You just lost your ticket out of here." He swung the heavy tool at Garrett.

"No!" Anne tried to yell before closing her eyes. She held her breath, expecting to hear the smack of metal on skin and the crunch of breaking bone, but it never came. She opened her eyes to see Garrett had caught the crowbar in his hands and yanked it from the robber's grip.

Before her mind could process what just happened, there was a flash of movement. Garrett tossed the metal tool away and reached toward the once-crowbar-holding robber. Moving too fast to follow, he did something with his hand and Anne found herself watching the robber fall to the ground unconscious. Garrett looked up from where he stood threateningly over the unconscious thief and set his eyes on the other robber who had since then grabbed Anne and pulled her in front of him.

Anne did not fight against the move for she was too shocked and busy trying to process what just happened. All she could think was, Where the hell did that come from?

Seeing as no one could read minds in the room, her question went unanswered. Garrett continued to watch the other thief, who stared at the black haired teenager with a mix of horror, recognition, and defiance on his face.

"You're one of 'em," he said slowly. The gunman tightened his hold on Anne and tried to slide towards the door while using her as a shield. "You're one of those creatures of the night."

"Look who's talking," Garrett replied coolly, taking a slow step towards the man, "but I've got to say, you're mistaken."

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," the thief stated grimly, "And I don't plan to stick around to find out if it's true." He looked at Anne briefly before he turned his gaze back on the boy in front of him, "Sweetums, you're dead meat already with no help from me if you keep this guy around. I might not value my life as much as others, but I'm not about to die because of a monster. So really, I'm about to do you a favor."

"Hmph?" Anne tried to ask while at the same time Garrett yelled "NO!"

Before Anne saw it coming, the robber shoved her sideways away from him, causing her to stumble and start to fall. Garrett lunged to grab her and while he was distracted, the thief aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

But he did not fire the weapon at Garrett...

He fired it at Anne.

She heard Garrett yell again, but before she could do anything, and before she even realized someone had shot at her, Anne felt something very solid and warm grab hold of her and knock her to the ground. With her hands tied and unable to cushion her fall, Anne fell against the store's cold, unforgiving floor. Pain resounded through her head and stars exploded behind her eyes before her world went black.