• I stumbled through the empty museum, aware of my resounding footsteps on the linoleum floor. Click. Click. Click. She was not far behind me. I could barely hear her stilettos click on the floor over the sound of my shoes.
    Crash. There goes another vase. I looked behind me just for a second. It was a huge mistake. I moved faster, scared by the fiery look in her eyes, and her hands, balled into fists, knuckles white.
    My leg had been broken for about two hours now, and every step I took shot another sharp burst of pain up my leg. I just wanted to lay down somewhere, forget about all of this, and die an easy, fast, painless death, but I couldn’t. If I did, Victoria would get the letter and all of our hard work would’ve been for nothing.
    Tyler was already waiting for me at his house, but first I had to ditch the chick in high heels behind me. She had been hired by Victoria and all I knew was that she was extremely mad. She’s the one who snapped my leg in half after chasing me for four hours straight. It has now been an additional two hours, and honestly, I would be mad to if I were following a girl for six hours, with no break, in high heels.
    I turned a corner and hid behind a curtain, my body smashed up against the cold, hard wall behind me, my leg aching. I tried as best I could not to move, but it got harder and harder every second.
    Click. Click. Click. Click. The lady in heels. She finally turned the corner. No more clicking. What was she doing? Can she see me?
    Click. Click. Click. Click. Her footsteps faded away and I breathed out a sigh of utter relief. I sat down on the floor, and tore off one leg of my jeans. I carefully examined the break. Snapped in half. I could see the bone and everything.
    I tightly wrapped the ripped jean around my broken leg, wincing in pain several times. I came out from behind the curtain and tried to remember which way I had just come from. I turned a corner, gasped, tried to run away, but it was too late.
    Victoria’s henchman were all there, waiting for me. I limped back the other way, but some of them grabbed me.
    I screamed until I ran out of breath. I kicked until I couldn’t take it anymore. I punched until they tied my hands behind my back.
    They grabbed a chair from a storage room and tied me to that. I struggled for about ten minutes. I was too worn out to do anything anymore. I sat back in my chair, worn out. My black hair hung in my face, tangled, and knotted.
    “Where is the letter,” one of Victoria’s henchmen droned.
    “Try up your a**,”
    “Now, Vivienne, you should try being nicer to people,” the voice sounded strangely familiar.
    The henchmen moved aside, and I gasped. It was him. I hadn’t seen him since last Spring when he told me he loved me. The next day, he was gone. I thought he was dead. I was so happy he was alive.
    “Xander!” I screamed, excited to see him again.
    Then I had just seen his face, not his body, but when I did, I realized why he was there. It’s not because he was trying to save me. No. It was because he was trying to kill me.
    “Not so excited to see me now are you?”
    “Xander, how could you?” I asked, disbelief making my voice tremble.
    “Easily,” he said to me, nonchalantly. He turned to the henchmen, “Now take her out.”
    I stared, my mouth hanging open, and watched as a pale fist came flying towards my face. I barely felt the hit, I was too stunned.
    The last thing I heard before I blacked out was Xander’s maniacal laughing. Then nothing. The emptiness that surrounded me now was peaceful. Soothing. Calming. I felt free. The weight of my tragic past was lifted off my shoulders. No more flashbacks. No more memories. No more anything. Death was easy, but I feared that this wasn’t my time to go. Not yet at least.