"Are you sure you don't want to get some new things? I can take you to the mall you know. We can go to that store you used to spend hours in," my father tried to convince me which I thought was odd, considering he never liked when I went shopping. It took forever.

"No, Dad it's alright. All my clothes still fit me, remember, I used to wear them like two sizes bigger," I explained as I tried to convince him not to go. I would have loved to go shopping anytime, but to be honest, now that I was back I couldn't care less. It was like that part of me was gone, or at least for now.

We pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, which was only about a two minute drive from our house. Five minutes to walk it. I remember when I used to have group sleepovers at my place with a bunch of my fake friends, we used to walk down to the store and grab snacks for that night. And those nights pretty much consisted of making fun of other people in our school as we searched up and down the rows in our yearbooks. Seriously, we had no life back then.

  It was rather busy today in the store. Even though we hadn't gone in yet, I could just tell by all the cars that were piled up and parked. It was a rather large parking lot too, which said a lot. As we drove up and down the aisles, we finally found a spot at the very end. Since there wasn't anything else closer too, we snatched that spot quickly.

  "You don't have to come in if you don't want. I can bet there will be a bunch of people staring," my father spoke up as he turned the car off and faced me. I shook my head gently.

  "No, it's alright. I'm going to have to get used to people wondering and staring. They're curious Dad, that's all," I answered him back as I grabbed for my door handle and opened it. He then followed me out as well.

As our doors slammed I heard the car alarm flicker on as it locked. We both stepped to the side of the road, our hands deep in our pockets. It was a gloomier day, like most days we had in our small town of Dalyville, which was in the lower part of Ontario. We had a lot of tiny towns around us as well, like Maryville, which was about two hours away. And of course there was Jackville, which was only an hour away. Although, when I had been wandering and roaming the woods, it took me much longer the first time to get there. But I think I had gotten lost along the way, walking in circles probably most of the way. Getting to Jackville was just a flook, and I took that.

As my dad and I entered the doors that were propped open, it was almost in a instant that everyone looked our way. Many people did double takes, as they turned their glance over to us once more. But I still didn't regret not staying in the car. I had realized a little while ago, that for people to stop staring and over come their curiosity, I would have to go out more often. If I did, they would then get used to seeing me, and I would no longer be a big deal. But if I hid and stayed away from everyone in my house or in the car, then the times that I did go out, everyone would always stare, considering I was not seen often. So I decided I had to get out as much as possible, even if I didn't want to.

"Jay, could you grab a basket?" my father brought me out of my thoughts as he asked me a question and pointed to the front.

"Huh?" I asked as I looked up at him.

"A basket. Could you grab one?" he repeated again, and pointed in the direction of the front doors.

  "Oh. Sure," I spoke back as I then turned in the direction of the way we came in. They were fairly close, considering we hadn't walked all that far yet. Right as you came in the doors the fruit and vegetable section was right there, waiting for people to come by and bag them. As I bent over to pick up one of the blue baskets that were stacked, I glanced over at the open doors, as it displayed the parking lot. And right there, standing in the far end of the lot, where our car was parked, stood a man wearing all black clothes. His head was tilted down as his face wasn't revealed, and his hood propped up. I stood up in a instant as I dropped the basket that was in my hand. My eyes shot open wide as my nerves came back, and feeling of recognition lit up in my head. It was him. It was him.

My breathing became rapid as my heart ran with it. I shook my head back and forth, back and forth as I backed up and stepped away from the door. And right as I began to step away, he began to run towards the doors. Him in all his dark clothing, his black pants and boots. His black sweater with the hood up. His dark face that was non existent. Perhaps a mask was worn under that hood. I didn't know, and I didn't want to find out. For if I did I know he would have me and he would kill me. As he neared I ran back further behind myself. Not looking where I was going. And then suddenly, the doors flew open as he ran in a hurry towards me. And that is when I screamed. I shrivelled up into a crouched ball as I hid my face and screamed, terrified for my life. Tears were at the urge. No! Leave me alone! I wanted to scream. But I did not. Only stayed in the small ball I was in. Then, as it caught me by surprise, a hand was placed on my shoulder as I jumped and screamed again. My eyes still close. No! Let go of me! Let me go! Please, don't hurt me! I won't run away again! Please don't kill me! I was speaking and crying in my head, until I heard a familiar voice. A friendly voice.

  "Jayc?!" And as I looked up from my knees, my father was crouched down beside me, a shocked, upset and very concerned look plastered onto his face. The feeling of relief kicked in as I began to breathe normally, and then shot a look back at the doors. There was no one there. He was gone. The remainder of the relief feeling sunk in, as I tried to calm down. Just breathe. It's ok. You're ok. You just imagined it. He is not here. You are safe. Just. Breathe. I kept repeating my famous words as they began to feel real. And they were real. My father wrapped his arms around me as I started to get up again, and we headed towards the doors. My dad kept rubbing my arms, the way one does when they are cold.

"It's ok. It's ok," my father kept repeating to me quietly as we came close to the doors exiting. And then, I looked around myself for the first time, and realized all eyes were on us. Everyone standing in their places, their eyes glued to us. Like statues in a museum, or as if they were all playing that game, where everyone froze. The store felt so quiet. Sounded so quiet, not even the breath of those strangers could have been heard. I wonder what their thinking. What they think of me.

As the automatic doors opened, letting us out, we began to walk to the car in the parking lot as my father kept stroking my arms, like he was giving me a hug from my side. But I didn't care how funny we looked, all I cared about in that moment, was how safe I felt, and secure in my father's arms.

  As we finally returned home, and we walked through the door, into the comfort of our house, the warmth and security got to me as I headed slowly towards the stairs.

  "Wait, Jaycee," my father spoke before I could get to the first step. I was dreading the conversation that I knew was coming, but I knew I had to get it over with. I turned around slowly to him, as I tilted my head to the side. "What was that in there? Why did you freak out?" he talked down in a soothing voice, not trying to sound like I was crazy. He took a few steps towards me, as I tried to come up with what to say to him. I couldn't tell him the truth. Or could I? Maybe I could just tell him? Maybe I could tell him not to share it with anyone? Share the true story? Wait. No. I can't do that. If I tell him the truth, he will for sure tell the police. After all, that man could still be a threat to me. He is still out there, after all. Just make something up. And hurry.

I looked back up to meet his eyes, and they had grown more concerned since the last time I saw them. Concern that read, 'please, tell me.'
What should I say?

  "I.....um..." I started to trail off as I tried to think of something quick. "I-I just saw a bug," I finally came up with something, not that it was any good. But for some reason nothing else could come to mind. Not a good enough reason for me to freak out and have a panic attack, considering everyone thought I just ran away. If everyone knew I had been kidnapped, they would understand. But no one knew that.
As my answer came from my mouth, my father's face turned into a frown as he looked confused.

  "You, you saw a bug? That's why you screamed and flinched? Because of a bug?" It sounded as if he wanted to laugh, but held onto that urge. I nodded my head, wanting to laugh as well from my excuse. My father stood there looking at me for another moment, until he shook his head a bit and walked away. A sigh of relief escaped me as I continued to walk up the stairs. Wow. I didn't think he would buy that. That was, indeed, a pretty terrible excuse.

I stepped up onto the last stair as I walked forward five steps, then turning to the right, where my room was. As I fell onto my lounge chair that still stayed in front of my window, I thought back to earlier. Our shopping experience didn't turn out to be the greatest that day, and I hoped that would never happen again. It was odd now, considering that was my first panic attack that I ever had. Thinking back, I never recalled having an episode like that back in Jackville. And back then, it was fresh and new. I would of thought that would be the time to get panic attacks, not now, not four years later. But that intensity, that terror, it felt so real. It was so real. Those feelings were real, at one point. I didn't feel like that now, well, most of the time, back back then, back to four years ago, those feelings were very much real and lasted for a bad few months. And then another few months after that.
Would this be a regular thing now? Will I have episodes like that now that I am back? Is that why I had one now? My first one? Because the phone call, and the kidnapping happened here, in Dalyville? Back home? Was being home triggering those panic attacks? And it was in this town where I was held in that cabin. In the middle of the woods, a forest that was close to town. And I was buried close to town as well. And then wandered in those woods for months, wandering in circles, close to town.

  Perhaps coming back here was a bad idea. Perhaps I should just go back. Pack up my bags this time and leave. Go back to Jackville. Go back and meet Tara. Go back and get that job back, and live with her again.
No. I can't do that. I can't do that to Dad. He just got me back. I can't leave again. I can't leave, because this time, I would be leaving by choice. Not by force. Not against my will. On my own this time. But on the other hand, if I did leave, no one would know where I went. They would look in Maryville, where they all think I hid before. And not to their knowledge, I would be safe and sound in another town, more that four hours away, in Jackville. I could hide there forever. And no one would know. Except Tara, but she won't tell. I know her. And as my thoughts kept wandering on and on, before I realized it I was drifting off into a calm, gentle, but also an ongoing sleep.

***
"Get out of my way, loser." I shoved my way past Emily as I travelled through the hall. I had never liked Emily. The way she looked, the way she dressed, she just bothered me. She always looked awful with her dorky clothes and ugly hair as it was stringy and pulled back always into a high ponytail. How she never knew how to apply make up, with most of it smeared and blended horribly in. The nasty colours she would pick for eye shadow or lipstick, obviously not going with her outfit at all. And those glasses, how utterly humongous and bold. But those thing never bothered me. Not quite. What bothered me, was how effortlessly happy she always was. How confident she was wearing such ugly clothes, and possessing such nasty hair and wearing such weird things. How she never seemed to be bothered by others, but that was of course, before I came along. It angered me, made me upset, how someone like me, who was perfect in every way, with the hair, and clothes, and makeup and figure; how someone so perfect, could be horribly miserable. Not having any confidence, even though I tried my hardest not to show that part off.

  I felt terrible about myself, but again, never showed that side. To anyone, I seemed like the 'it' girl—which I was—with everything so great and wonderful in my life. The way I projected being this fierce girl with all the friends and the cliques and all the boys falling for me. I projected this fiercely confident, radiant, attractive person, and yet, I felt the complete opposite of myself. I didn't like myself. I didn't like how I felt. And I was angry at the people who came by all of those things naturally, no matter how they looked; like Emily. I tried so hard to make myself look better, so I could feel better about myself, but no matter how hard I tried, I could never feel the confidence, or get the confidence Emily had. And she had to do nothing to get that. She was just perfectly happy being herself, which was not me at all. And because of that, I tried to bring her down to my level. Brought her down to how I felt. Wanted her to feel the way I did. And so, ever since middle school, I teased and taunted her, bringing her down, and some days, I brought her down further than others. There was not one day that passed, where I didn't shoot her down with my words. And after each and every insult, I could see her expression turn as I felt better about myself. As if her confidence was then transferred to me, and it gave me great power each time, something that felt so exhilarating and new. Something I had not felt before. And I did that everyday, to take away her confidence, and give it to myself. It felt good. Felt good to see her cry and run after I shoved her in the hallway, calling her names, and some, worse than others. "Dirty piece of trash!"
***

My eyes opened slowly as I felt groggy, and another feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time. Guilt. I had never felt that way when I used to taunt her. That feeling only developed the first year. When I was lost in the woods. There were days on end that I would think of Emily, and the way I used to treat her. And during those days, that's when I realized what I was doing at the time effected her a lot. I didn't think about that when I was hurting her, because I only cared about myself. I didn't care how it effected her, I only cared about making myself feel better. I was not concerned for her. That didn't come into play until months later. Years later.
I bullied her from grades six to nine, and I never regretted it back then once. It was only until I was all on my own, alone, in the dark as I walked in circles for months, trying to hide from him, my captor, hiding and running for my life, when I began to regret it. Regret all of it. I had a change of heart, at it changed all at once. And I wanted to tell her, right then and there in the woods, that I was sorry. And that's when I promised, I promised if I ever returned to town, that would be the first thing I would do.

Then, suddenly, as I looked at my clock that now read 7:36pm, I decided out of the blue, and in an instant, that I would do it now. It had begun to get dark outside, but I didn't care. I got off my chair in an hurry as I rubbed my eyes, getting the fog and sleepiness out.

I grabbed one of my sweaters first, since it was a bit chillier out it looked like. As I pulled on the warm black jacket, I brought my hair out of it as it landed and flowed down my back. I zipped up the front, and then left my room. As I got to the bottom step, I walked over to the front landing, and pulled on my sneakers, just waiting for my father's response which I knew I would hear soon.

"Where are you going?" he spoke after I finished pulling on my shoes and was about to grab for the handle of the door. I spun around slowly as I tilted my head back a bit.

"I'm going out." That was all I said at first. But I knew there was more to come.

"Going out where?"

"There's just, something I have to do Dad. Trust me, ok? I will be back in an hour," I responded as I spun around again.

"Uhh, no you are not," he spoke back in a more demanding voice as he ran and stepped in front of me.

"Dad, please. I have to go meet a friend. I have to tell her something, ok? Why can't you just trust me?"

"Because maybe the last time I trusted you, you disappeared for four years!" he rose his voice as it cracked a bit with the last word he spoke. His expression then changed from angry to sad within seconds, as he turned and walked over to the couch. I stood there in my spot for a moment, watching, listening to him as I felt dumbstruck and shocked. And after a few seconds passed again I then joined him, and stepped to the living room as well.

"Dad..." I spoke in a down tone, as I knew he was hurt. Or hurting is a better word. I sat down across from him on the other couch, as we looked into each other's eyes.

"You just, left. Left me, left your family. Your friends. Everyone. You just, ran away, letting us think the worst had happened to you. Do you know what you put us through. Put me through? Your own father? After I lost your sister, and then your own mother? Were you not there at all when they both passed? When we lost them? Do you not remember what that was like? The pain we were in. What we went through together? You didn't care about me Jayc. You didn't care about your own family. You didn't care when you left," he began to slow down his words and his tone as he began to get chocked up. Tears sounding like they were about to flow, as his voice gave away the crying sound. And as I sat there, listening to him, I began to cry myself.

  I wanted to tell him none of that was true. That I didn't run away from him. Just hearing how he felt after I told him I ran away, how that explanation broke him. Hearing how he felt, I wanted to run to him and tell him I was sorry for lying. That I didn't run away, that I was taken away from him. That I would never run away from him. That I wouldn't of done that to him, knowing what he had been through with my mother and sister. Although, he didn't know the truth. And to him, what he was saying was the truth. And what he thought, was that I did run away, and that I didn't care about him. But that was no way the truth. "But what got us through the whole thing with your mother and sister, was that we both had each other Jayc. We were both there for each other. And when you left, I had no one else. No one there for me. You don't even realize how much you hurt me Jayc. You just don't understand."

And at that point, tears began to fill my eyes and drip down my cheeks. I held back sobs as I tried to speak, although it took a few tries. I didn't want my father to think these things of me. To think I did this to hurt him, or think that I was only thinking of myself when I left. I didn't want him to think that's what I was like, because the true me, the new me was nothing like that. And the old me was nothing like that either. I would have never done that to him before, I would never do that to him now.

"Dad. I.....I am