Hey everyone! I finally was able to begin another story. I hope you guys enjoy it!!!!

*I do not own SWAC*

"Chad, that's my spot," Sonny stepped halfway out of her car which was parked in the middle of the isle.

"Well it's Chad's now!" Chad exclaimed, reaching into the black convertible for his script.

"Um, no," Sonny fought, grabbing her parking permit. "See, it says B013. That's my spot, I paid for it, now get out or I'm going to be late."

"Actually, Sonny, it really is my spot now. I had a chat with Mr. Condor and had him change my parking space."

"Why? You have the best spot in the whole lot."

"Yeah…the sun was damaging the upholstery in that spot."

"Chad! This is my spot! Where am I supposed to park?" Sonny cried.

"Don't worry, Sonny, Chad Dylan Cooper has already taken care of that. Here's your new parking permit. Enjoy."

"Spot Q641? Why can I just have your old spot?"

"Because it's Mackenzie Falls property and we can't let you Randoms get spoiled now can we?"

"Ugh!" Sonny grunted as she sat back down in her car and drove way to the end of the parking lot.

***

"Sonny, you're late," Marshall irked at his desk without looking up from a stack of papers.

"I'm so sorry Marshall, there was traffic, then the security guard wanted to do a random search in my car for contraband, and then Chad," Sonny twitched.

"Just don't let it happen again."

"Hey, Marshall, what is this?" Sonny showed him a long list in her hands.

"Oh, Mr. Condor had that delivered this morning. Apparently there is a whole line of radio stations, television networks, and charity events who would like to have you as a guest. Mr. Condor thought it would be really good advertisement for both So Random and Condor Studios. So that's your schedule for the next two weeks."

"But Marshall, there's at least three events everyday – how am I supposed to make it to rehearsals? I don't know if I can even keep up with this schedule as is, let alone get back here to rehearse."

"Don't worry about managing yourself, Sonny, Mr. Condor has hired someone to come and work for you as your own assistant for the next couple of weeks. As for rehearsals, we'll find a way to keep you up with it!"

"Okay, thanks Marshall!" Sonny smiled and exited his office. Although the schedule looked horrid, she was pleased so many different places wanted to speak with her.

"Sonny, mail's here," Josh knocked on her dressing room door politely.

"Come on in Josh!" Sonny shouted as she ran a curling iron through her hair, finishing some last touches before rehearsal resumed. Josh handed her the pile of envelopes of all different sizes and colors. Though there was a bountiful number of letters, Sonny's eyes went straight to a specific, red envelope with an all too familiar P.O. Box number. "Thanks, Josh," Sonny said absentmindedly staring at the one envelope in her hand.

As soon as Josh left, Sonny slid her finger underneath the flap holding the red envelope together. She knew she was going to later regret it, but her curiosity won and the letter was revealed.

***

"Sonny!" Marshall called out walking briskly around the corner. He found Sonny sitting outside of her dressing room on the ground. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, her back pressed up against the wall, one hand ran through her freshly done hair pulling out the curls, and the other held onto a red piece of paper. "Sonny, there you are. Rehearsals began ten minutes ago."

"What?" Sonny looked up, trying to inconspicuously wipe a single tear from her eye. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Marshall. I'm coming right now."

"What do you have there?" Marshall noticed the letter. He saw the stress covering her face as well.

"Oh, it's nothing. A little bit of hate mail, but it's really not that bad. I'm just not used to it I guess," Sonny laughed nervously and crumpled it into a small red ball. "Let's go to rehearsals!" She and Marshall walked to the corner where Sonny threw the paper into a recycling bin.

"You go on ahead, Sonny," Marshall ordered. "I have to grab something from my office. Are you sure that letter didn't affect you too much?"

"Yep, I'm fine, Marshall," Sonny insisted.

Marshall nodded and sent her on her way. Once she was out of sight, Marshall dug through the recycling and immediately found the red letter. He was shocked to read what had been written:

Dear Sonny Monroe,

What are you doing in Hollywood? No one there or anywhere else likes you. You're not talented, you can't act, and you're hideous to look at. Whenever I hear your dumb voice, I about want to rip the ears off the side of my head – I'd do anything to make the disgusting sound stop. Do the world a favor and go back to Wisconsin where all the other untalented, ugly people in the world are.

Sincerely,

The Whole World

"Oh my gosh," Marshall stood blankly. He had seen some cruel hate mail before, but someone like Sonny did not deserve this! He walked down to the set and called Sonny over.

"What's up?" she skipped over in her Christmas Tree costume.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he held the wrinkled letter up. "This is horrible, and I just wanted to make sure you weren't too upset."

"Marshall, I'm fine. Besides, it's not the first piece of hate mail I've ever gotten."

"Yeah, but all of those were from Tawni," Marshall reasoned.

"No, I've actually been getting quite a bit lately."

"Is it from the same person?"

"No and yes," Sonny pulled Marshall even further away from the rest of the cast. "He – or she – or they – signs it differently every time, but it's always from the same P.O. Box number."

"Do you have any of the others?" Marshall asked curiously.

"A few but I threw most of them away. I thought hate mail was rather normal, though. Why are you freaking out about it?"

"Why don't you get back to rehearsal and we'll talk about it later."

***

"Mr. Condor, Sonny Monroe is here to see you here, sir," the receptionist alerted Mr. Condor.

"Thank you, you may send her on in!" Mr. Condor replied. "Sonny, it's good to see you, please, have a seat," he stood slightly. "Marshall Pike told you about your appearances and your new assistant, correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Condor, and may I just say thank you so much for getting me some help for the next few weeks."

"Of course, Miss Monroe, it's what all actors do when they have a steady chart of appearances. I would like you to meet Lindsay. She's going to work for you until your schedule clears. She'll meet you here or at home in the mornings and travel with you to all of your appointments. She's in charge of keeping you on track, so just do what she says and you'll be fine. You two are dismissed."

Lindsay quickly followed Sonny out the door with a bit of a skip. Once they were out of Mr. Condor's section, she finally spoke, "Sonny Monroe, I'm Lindsay Blain, and can I just say that I am really glad I get to work for you. I have to admit, when I was called in by Condor Studios, I was a bit nervous. I've heard from my colleagues that a few people here can be a little hard to work for."

"Gosh, I can't imagine who!" Sonny laughed, imagining she was referring to Tawni or Chad. "Well it's really nice to meet you and I can't tell you how thankful I am that you're going to help me out."

"Trust me, it's my pleasure! I already have a rough draft of your schedule for tomorrow – that's when Mr. Condor said your first interviews are." Lindsay handed Sonny a piece of paper, intricately detailed with times and places. "I'm sorry it seems so old fashioned, but I haven't been able to get a real computer organizer yet."

"No, this is perfect. I think we're going to work really well together!"

***

"Marshall, I'm leaving for the night. Can I get my check? It wasn't on my shelf," Tawni knocked on her director's door and stepped inside.

Marshall rubbed his eyes wearily. "Is it time to leave already? I'm sorry, Tawni," Marshall reached into his desk and pulled out his company checkbook. "Here you go. Have a good Friday night but be safe. I want you back here undamaged for tomorrow's filming."

"What's got you all stressed out?" Tawni finally noticed his fatigue.

"It's these hate mail letters Sonny has been getting. They're horrible."

"Like how?" Tawni raised her eyebrow. They got hate mail all the time so she wondered what had him so nervous about these specific letters. Of course it was obvious that Sonny was his little favorite pet, but he was acting quite strange.

"Insults, accusations, and horrible threats. And they're all from the same P.O. Box number. You don't think she has a hate group out there, do you?"

"Marshall, we all have our hate groups. Even you! Just relax – we have a big show tomorrow and there's no need to get so stressed out over a couple of letters."

"You're probably right," Marshall finally conceded. "Come on, I'll walk you out." Marshall stood, grabbed his keys and followed Tawni out to the parking lot, locking every door behind them.

***

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Connie Monroe, Sonny's mother, tucked Sonny under the covers and gently placed a kiss upon her forehead.

"Goodnight, mom," Sonny sighed happily, allowing her body to fully relax into the comfortable mattress. Connie shut off the light and closed Sonny's door.

Sonny quickly fell asleep in the cool night air. Los Angeles had been hit with abnormally cold weather that winter, but compared to Wisconsin, it was practically summertime.

She had instantly meshed with her new assistant, Lindsay. The girl – only 18years old – was from Indiana and had the same peppy, Midwest personality Sonny had herself. Sonny was almost sad Lindsay was only going to be around for a couple of weeks.

She had quickly been able to forget about the letter from that day. Marshall had made her give him all of the previous letters, and it was admittedly a relief to finally have them out of her hands.

Sonny was asleep, but instead of sweet dreams flowing through her head, something horrifying quickly shook her awake.

Connie sat in her bed next door reading a home and gardening magazine. She had a soft lamp lighting the room with the aid of a scented candle which was supposed to help her relax. But even with a thousand candles, there would be no relaxing the mother that night.

Only an hour after she had put Sonny to bed, a sickening smash followed by a heart-wrenching scream flowed through the entire apartment complex. Connie flew out of bed, losing her spot in the magazine and leaving the candle unattended.

She dashed the few steps across their apartment to Sonny's room where, even though she could not see anything in the darkness, she could feel an instant drop in temperature and hear the small whimpers of her daughter. Connie flicked the light switch and revealed a giant hole through Sonny's window and a rock with a piece of paper tied to it on the ground. She looked over and saw her daughter pushed up against the wall, holding her knees to her chest.

"It's okay, sweetie, Connie carefully walked around the shattered glass and held her daughter momentarily before running to the room next door to see if she could see anyone running away through the window. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no one there. It would only have been a two story throw – not very hard for anyone to accomplish.

Connie returned to Sonny's room and cupped her face, "Darling, are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm okay," Sonny's breath labored as she tried to calm her senses down. There was a heavy knocking at the door. Connie stepped away again to answer, not knowing quite who would be there that late at night.

To her surprise, it was three of their neighbors – all with anxious looks on their faces.

"Mr. Franklin, Mrs. Stevenson, and Ms. Inkle, hello – how can I help you?" Connie asked, looking back towards Sonny's room every few minutes.

"We heard Sonny scream and we all came rushing over to see that she was safe," one of them explained.

"Thankfully she's all right. We just had a rock thrown through her window."

"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. Stevenson gasped.

"I can board it up for you tomorrow morning, but she probably won't want to sleep in that room tonight," the man suggested.

"Thank you, Mr. Franklin, we would greatly appreciate your help." Connie was cut off by a small cry coming from Sonny's room. "Thank you all for your worries, but everyone is safe. We can worry about the rest in the morning. I really have to get back to her." Everyone waved goodbye to one another as they went separate ways. "Hey baby, what's wrong?" Connie stepped back into the freezing cold room.

Sonny bit her lip and handed over the paper which had been folded around the rock. Connie received it curiously and read over the words.

Sonny Monroe,

If you know what's good for you, you won't go on television tomorrow night. No one wants to see your fat, ugly face. Your skin is so pale, I feel like I'm blinded every time I am forced to see you. If you really like the other people on So Random, you will just quit now. You bring them all down. If you can find your heart, you won't go on television. If you do choose to go on, this will not be the last midnight call.

Yours truly,

Television Owners of the World