A/N: Is anyone else seriously pumped for the Beautiful Creatures movie? I feel like I'll be disappointed (I mean, look at the casting: all I liked was Thomas Mann when I first heard it, and I thought Alice Englert and Emmy Rossum could be good if they died their hair, but they didn't!), but I'm ridiculously stoked anyway. If only I had a boyfriend that would take me to see this for Valentine's day...oh, well! Awesomely forever alone!

And here's a puddle of Beautiful Creatures movie anticipation, even though this is totally set during Beautiful Redemption.

Oh, and JasperWhitlockHale1863 pointed it out to me (thanks for that, by the way) that some people call them Lindley. I'm just going to stick with Ridlink because I like it better, and you guys are going to have to put up with it because apparently I'm the only one who writes Ridley/Link fanfics on here in English :) Have a nice day!

You know, at first I didn't mind the cage. I pictured myself like a blonde Miley Cyrus, only six million times hotter. If I was in that music video, I'm sure people would actually care about that pathetic wash-up. I mean, Link sings better than she does.

Anyway, so when Abraham threw me in here, I didn't care as much as I could have. Sexy golden-eyed bombshell imprisoned in a golden cage? That's foreplay gold. And then I realized that I seriously was imprisoned, and I might just die an unfulfilled, quiet death right here. Alone. With mascara running down my face and chipped nail polish and a ruined outfit. And shackles. Ugh, I hate shackles. I'd probably look like some sort of dumb lab rat in that mad scientist's room. The one lab rat that was dumb enough to drink the vile of poison and die.

I've always wanted to go out with a bang. An explosion of gold glitter, like a Ke$ha concert (What's up with me and washed-up singers today? Am I really that lonely and pathetic?). Some sort of unforgettable end, fireworks and bombs that blow up and affect everything. Not a quiet death.

Not with a bang but a whimper.

And I thought I was done with Lena's poetry. I guess it'll never really leave me alone, the way Link's lyrics are always stuck in my head. Especially here, in the silence. All I have is lines of poetry and songs and sometimes Mason's or mom's or Ryan's voice. Sometimes I even hear Ethan and Reece, not that I'd want to. I really don't care what they'd have to say if they found me, but it's so disgustingly boring in here that I can't be bothered to shut up their voices in my head.

Gold eyes and gold bars and gold hearts that are nothing but paper dipped in ink.

If I get out of here, I'm never going into Lena's room again. I don't think I could stand another poem. Or another song. Just shut up,Link. You'll never get a record deal.

Ugh, I sound like a mental patient. If I ever get out of here, I'll probably end up in one of those gross 'Gaitlin Peach' rooms, mumbling about gold cages and a bunch of people who don't care about me anymore. All my looks and talent wasted. I bet I couldn't even manipulate a male nurse into kissing me if I ended up there. I bet I couldn't get anyone to kiss me, not even Link.

That's a depressing thought. Now I'm crying. Grow a spine, Ridley!You're not some pathetic thirteen-year-old that didn't get invited the cool kids's party. Those losers wishthey invited you.

I drop back on the ground, the stupid shackles jingling like a ghost from a fifties movie. I stare up at the ceiling, but all I see is gold bars and dirty white. I wish I could see the stars, clouds, something. Lena's split moon.

If I could go back to any night of my life, where would I go? I don't think I'd ever want to relive 'Hell Night', with the moon cracking between green and gold and thinking I was going to die and watching Link get bitten and Lena cry. I don't think I'd want to go back to Lena's Sixteenth Moon and the betrayal in Link's eyes. I don't think I'd want to go back to all the times I left, the way Link would be torn between sad and angry.

But honestly, I'd rather be reliving every mistake I've ever made than be sitting here thinking about them.

I'd rather be anywhere but here, waiting to die.