Standing in the shower, I reach for the coconut shower gel and let the water spray over me. The steam begins to loosen all the knots twisting in my back and I relax, letting my mind wander back to yesterday. I hadn’t had a chance to process the epic sense of power or the instant satisfaction that coursed through me as I pulled the trigger. Picturing Yankovich as my target, hearing the cryptic words he whispered in my ear was all the ammo I needed to take that first shot. Remembering my own hell, hearing my own cries, well, that’s all I needed to take the two shots that followed.

It was powerful.

It was healing.

And it was shocking. In that single moment, I learned the biggest lesson of all. I learned I could be more than a nightmare.

I could be fearless.

I also learned shooting provides you with an indescribable adrenaline rush, making it impossible to sleep. I drove Deuce crazy, tossing and turning all night, making him swear that he would take me again and work on my aim. Realizing it was the perfect remedy to soothe me after a grueling therapy session, Deuce suggested we make it a thing and recommended we shoot on the days I have therapy.

Of course, I agreed and it got me thinking; there were so many things out there for me to try. Things that might be therapeutic for someone like me or things that I might just find fun. I hadn’t had much fun in my life. I hadn’t had any at all, and adventures, I didn’t have any of those either.

If being kidnapped taught me anything, it taught me that life was too short. One day you’re here, the next you’re not, so you better make every day count.

“Deuce!” I shout, sticking my head out from behind the shower curtain. Wondering if he could hear me over the shower, I holler for him again.

Kicking the door open, he comes skidding to a stop when he spots me.

“What’s the matter? What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say simply as my eyes dart down to his chest. I’m a sucker for his chest and for that crazy beautiful tattoo that’s inked to it. I think it’s pretty cool he has the engine of his first Harley forever imbedded to his skin. I learned that last night when he was trying to sleep and I kept nagging him.

“Jesus, fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” he growls, swiping his hands over his face.

“A big strong guy like you, scared?” I tease. “Maybe I’m more like Bonnie Parker than I thought,” I say as he drops his hands from his face and stares at me.

“You’re taking a shower.”

“Yep but the water is getting cold now so do you mind handing me a towel?”

“What?”

“A towel,” I repeat, holding the curtain with one hand and pointing to the towel rack with the other.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he grunts.

“Well, you can’t die yet. I’ve got big plans for you,” I say as he angrily pulls the towel from the rack. Turning around, I shut the water off before sticking my hand out from the curtain and taking the towel from him.

“Keep your plans to yourself.”

“Nonsense, I need a wingman,” I say, wrapping the towel tightly around me. Once I have it firmly tucked into place, I peel back the shower curtain and smile at him. “I’m going to create a list.”

“Fuck my life,” he groans as he crosses his arms and stares up at the ceiling. Ignoring his foul mood, I step out of the shower and continue to share my plans.

“I’m going to fill it with all the things I never got to do and all the things I want to do,” I say, brushing past him to stand in front of the sink. Grabbing my toothbrush, I squeeze the toothpaste onto it and feel his eyes drilling into my back.

“Stop looking at my ass,” I chastise. “I’m being serious.”

“Of course you are,” he mutters, lifting his eyes to meet mine in the mirror.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake. You want to create a bucket list.”

“A what?”

“A list of shit you want to do before you kick the bucket,” he explains.

Lifting the toothbrush to my mouth, I pause and furrow my eyebrows.

“It sounds morbid when you put it that way,” I reply thoughtfully before shaking my head. “Let’s call it something different.”

“I need coffee,” he mumbles.

“How about Ally’s Adventures?” I ask with a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Sure, whatever you want,” he says, taking another glance at my ass. Before I can order him to lift his eyes, someone knocks loudly on the door. He turns around abruptly and I follow him out of the bathroom, watching as he lifts his gun from the nightstand.

“Who is it?” he calls.

“Deuce, it’s Celeste.”

Fitting the gun back into his waistband, he glances over his shoulder at me before moving to answer the door. I haven’t seen her or my brother since that day in the hospital. Deuce has checked in with her, reporting Jagger’s progress to me, but for some reason I’ve been avoiding any more visits. I think I’m afraid they’re going to expect me to give more than I’m ready to, or worse they’ll expect me to be the same girl I was when I was fourteen.

“Blondie,” he greets, stepping aside so she can enter the room. “When did you start leaving Cobra’s bedside?”

“Funny,” she retorts, slapping his shoulder playfully before walking further into the room. Her eyes land on me and she freezes. I wonder if she’ll ever stop looking at me like I’m a ghost.

“Alexandria,” she stops herself. Shaking her head, she closes her eyes for a moment before blinking back at me. “I’m sorry, Ally,” she corrects. Offering me a smile she shrugs her shoulders. “I guess it will take me time to get used to that.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, grabbing a paper cup off the table. Spitting the excess toothpaste into it, I swipe a hand across my mouth as both her and Deuce look at me funny.

“Ally was just getting dressed,” Deuce explains.

“Oh shit,” I say, remembering my daily appointment. Still dressed in nothing but a towel, I rush around the room to grab my clothes.

“Ally has to be at the clinic at a certain time every day,” Deuce explains as I hurry into the bathroom. Quickly, I throw my clothes on and run a brush through my hair, twisting it into a bun. Looking presentable, I step out of the bathroom as Deuce pulls a shirt over his head.

“Why don’t I take you today?” she asks me hopefully before spinning around to look at Deuce. “It’ll give you a break and us a chance to spend some time together,” she adds, turning back to me. “Besides, it’s a special day. Jagger thought it would be a good idea if we went and had some girl time to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” I ask in confusion.

“What’s the occasion?” Deuce asks, stepping around Celeste.

Regret fills her pretty features as she mulls over what to say.

“Blondie?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you’d forget,” she whispers, staring back at me.

“Forget what?” I question.

“Today is your birthday,” she says softly.

My birthday.

A day I blocked from my mind.

A day that went without any recognition for so long.

A day I didn’t realize could mean more than lost years.

Realizing the last birthday I celebrated I spent with Celeste, I agree to spend this one with her too and awkwardly say goodbye to Deuce. Unsure if I’m supposed to give him a kiss on the cheek or a fist pump, I decide to play it safe and give him a wave. It seems ridiculous considering we spend every night in the same bed, but he hasn’t made another attempt to kiss me. Which is fine, maybe I’m not his type. I bet he likes his woman blonde and equipped with a big rack. He’s clearly an ass guy so that probably makes him a boob guy too.

Deuce continues to stay on my mind when we arrive at the clinic. It’s weird being there without him, knocking back my medicine knowing he’s not outside waiting for me. I miss him. You know, just a little bit.

After the clinic, Celeste surprises me with a present, giving me my first cellphone. At first I stared at it like it was a foreign object. It wasn’t my first time seeing a phone or anything like that—Deuce’s phone rings nonstop. It’s always Jack busting his balls. Sometimes its Jagger, a few times it was even Celeste. But I never picked up the phone. I never made a phone call either so I had no idea how to turn the damn thing on.

Celeste and I laughed about it as she showed me how to work it and patiently guided me through my new list of contacts. I had four. Her, Jagger, Deuce and Jack. I’d never call Jack, but I guess she thought having the crazy dude’s number was a good idea so I left it alone.

Arriving at the nail salon, Celeste tells me to pick a color polish as she checks us in with the receptionist. As I mull over the selection of colors, I remember doing the same thing with Deuce only it was lipstick I was picking and not nail polish. Itching to make my first official phone call, wanting it to be to Deuce, I lift the phone from my pocket. Finding his number, I hit send and place it to my ear, listening as it rings.

“Hello?” his deep voice questions roughly.

“Can you hear me?” I call into the phone.

“Ally?” he asks, sounding shocked. Then he pauses briefly before continuing. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, laughing slightly as I grab a bottle of red polish from the rack. I’m starting to think red is my favorite color.  “I’m calling you from my new phone. You’re my first official phone call. Celeste gave me your number.”

His laugh makes the smile on my face widen and something flips in my belly.

“So you’re doing okay then?”

“Yeah, we’re going to get pedicures and then she’s going to take me to see my brother,” I say, taking a seat as I wait for Celeste to pick a color.

“Good,” he mutters. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your birthday. We’ll celebrate later.”

The second he says those words that belly flip thing happens again and I pause, wondering what it might be like to celebrate a birthday with Deuce.

“Me and you?” I ask.

“Me and you,” he confirms.

I have no idea what we’ll do. Maybe he’ll take me somewhere or maybe we’ll stay in and watch our favorite movie, although I’m pretty sure he’s getting sick of me reciting Bonnie Parker quotes. Whatever he chooses, I know it’ll be great. It’ll be the best birthday ever.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m going to hang up and try to text you,” I say, staring at the bottle of polish in my hands. “Deuce?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I found my favorite color,” I tell him.

“What’s that?’

“Red.”

“It’s my favorite too,” he replies. His voice sounds different…strained.

Rough.

Sexy.

“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat.  “I’m going to hang up now. Don’t forget to answer my text.”

“All right, darlin’.”

“Oh, and Deuce?”

“Yeah?”

“I love it when you say darlin’.”

Smiling at the sound of his laugh, I lift my head to Celeste’s curious gaze. The receptionist asks her a question and she turns back around, giving me a chance to end my conversation.

“It just sort of came to me when you said it and you weren’t here for the big revelation,” I add.

“Well, you just keep track of all the things you discover about yourself and fill me in tonight.”

“You got it,” I tell him before disconnecting the call. Celeste returns with the receptionist and we make our way toward the super lush massage chairs. As the tub fills with water, I text Deuce and wait for his response. When an image of a peach comes through, I knit my eyebrows together and turn to Celeste. About to ask her what the hell a peach means, I pause as a memory of someone I used to know flashes before my eyes.

Suddenly, I’m not in the salon with Celeste and I’m transcended back to that warehouse sitting next to a girl just like me. Other than the fact we both have blue eyes, we don’t look anything alike yet we’re identical in so many other ways. We’re prisoners of hell. The girl with the brown hair polishes my nails and I know when she’s done I will have to return the favor. It’s what we do when Yankovich has potential buyers.

The memory fades as quickly as it hit me and I stare blankly at Celeste, trying to remember her name. The noise around me disappears and anger swarms inside of me because I should know her name. Being two girls who everyone forgot, we promised one another we would never forget each other.

“Ally?”

Closing my eyes, I reach further and peel back all the layers of pain until it finally comes to me.

“Sara,” I whisper, opening my eyes.

It’s like I almost expect her to be in front of me and when she’s not, when I realize I’m with Celeste, I start to wonder what happened to Sara. I wonder if she was rescued or if she is still out there somewhere suffering.

“Ally,” Celeste whispers, leaning over to touch her hand to mine. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, apologizing to both the friend in front of me and the one lost to me.

“Who is Sara?”

Blinking, I turn to Celeste and shake my head. I can’t do it. I can’t go there right now, not with her, not with anyone.

Seeming to understand I have boundaries, Celeste nods and gives my hand a squeeze.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, but you should know you can talk to me. I promise you, I won’t ask questions. All I’ll do is listen.”

“Thank you,” I say, and because it feels right, I squeeze her hand back.

When we release hands, we remain silent for a few moments and I do my damnedest to bury my past. I tell myself everything is okay and force myself to believe Sara is somewhere reconnecting herself just the way I am. I dream a beautiful life for her and pray she’s living it.

“After this I thought we’d grab lunch and then I was going to ask you how you felt about going to the hair salon,” Celeste finally says, drawing my attention back to her.

“Really?” I ask, processing the plan.

Lifting my hand to my hair, I wrap a few strands around my finger and eye Celeste skeptically.

“I’ve never had my hair professionally colored. I usually just throw that box stuff on my head,” I admit.

“They can fix it, make it all one color and even give you a trim.”

“I think I’d like that,” I say after a moment.

I turn to her and I silently stare at her. I find myself trying to understand who she is now and not struggling to remember who she was when we were kids.

“You promised not to ask me any questions, but I never promised not to ask you some.”

She stares at me for a beat before a smile spreads across her face.

“Ask away,” she invites.

“Well, I think I connected some of the dots, but there are still some gray areas,” I tell her as I hold out my thumb. “Let’s see, I know you and Jagger have Skylar.”

Tipping my chin toward her belly, I smile and add another finger.

“And you’re having another baby. I also know my brother has a weird fascination with black t-shirts.” That earns me a chuckle and I continue to count on my fingers all the facts I know about them. “You’re a nurse,” I point out, raising an eyebrow. “How the hell did that happen?”

The Celeste I remember wanted to be a journalist. Her smile falls and she instantly becomes quiet.

“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, fearing I’ve said something to trigger her. I start to understand I might not have been the only one to change in twelve years. I have no idea what kind of life she’s lived.

“No,” she replies quickly, reaching over to touch my hand. “It’s just a hard truth for me to acknowledge, much less confess to you.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I look at her confused and try to understand why she looks so torn with the words that are about to come out of her mouth.

“After you disappeared, I blamed myself. Still to this day, I believe it should’ve been me. If I never asked you to cover for me that night then you wouldn’t have been taken. You could’ve lived your life just like you planned. You could’ve been the nurse you always wanted to become.”

Realization slices into me as it becomes clear why she chose her profession. When I was younger, I wanted to be a nurse. Thinking about it now, I’m not sure why. I would’ve been a horrible nurse. I hate hospitals, loathe doctors and I’m pretty sure I’d have a piss poor bedside manner.

“The longer you stayed gone, the more the guilt consumed me and I needed a way to make it right. Though I didn’t choose to be spared, I was, and I needed to make that count for something. I started doing all the things you wanted to do. Your brother took me to prom and I wore a purple dress because I knew it was your favorite color. When I was eighteen I went skydiving and then I enrolled in the College of Staten Island’s nursing program.”

“All because I told you I wanted to do those things?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to make your dreams come true. I wanted to believe it, with my whole heart, I wanted to believe you were living your life to the fullest, but as the years went by I couldn’t be sure. It was the only way I could honor you and with every dream of yours I conquered I told myself you were somewhere doing it too.”

“Wow,” I whisper, feeling tears prick my eyes. “I don’t know what to say, Celeste. Is it strange that I’m a little bit happy? Not because you stopped living for yourself but because you didn’t forget me.”

The tears fall and I don’t stop them. Embracing the emotions, I stare at Celeste as she squeezes my hand.

“No one forgot you, Ally,” she murmurs. “No one ever could.”

“I thought you did. I thought everyone did,” I admit.

In the beginning, I often wondered about my family, about Celeste. I’d try to picture what they were doing, if I was a thought in their minds or if life went on without me. Did they have a service for me? How old was I when they gave up looking for me? At some point, I had to stop thinking about them and I told myself no one cared. I was angry at times and it hurt like hell, but having hope, keeping the faith in the people I loved, was more painful because I knew I’d never see them again. Like they assumed I was dead, I had to tell myself they were too.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think my best friend gave up on her own dreams to follow mine.

“Are you happy?” I blurt, searching her face.

“I am now,” she assures me. “I have the life I want, the life I dreamed of when I was younger.”

“Because you have Jagger.”

“Mainly, yes, but I’m happy with my choices. I love being a nurse.”

“Well, that’s a plus,” I mutter, looking away for a moment before I laugh. “You’re probably a terrific nurse. Me on the other hand, would’ve been a horrible one.”

“Do you think about what you want to do now or is it all still new?”

Shaking my head, I lift the phone she bought me earlier. I hadn’t thought about a phone much less what direction my life was going to take. I think people expect me to pick up where I left off, but I was a kid then. I like to think that even if I wasn’t abducted my views, dreams, and likes would have changed as I got older. Yes, I had twelve years taken from me, but if I dwell on that, on those childhood dreams, then I will never make new dreams.

“I’m just taking one day at a time,” I offer. “What about my brother? How did he cope?”

“I’m not sure he ever did,” she replies. “But that’s your brother’s story to tell. When you’re ready he will answer whatever questions you have.”

Agreeing I should hear Jagger’s side from him, I don’t press her for any other information and once our nails are completely dry we head out to have lunch. She tells me about Skylar and how she and Jagger were two ships passing in the wind. I was surprised to learn my brother wasn’t there for his daughter’s birth or the first year of her life, but I kept it to myself. She told me cute stories about Skylar and by the time we made it to the hair salon I gained the courage to ask if I could see her soon.

As the stylist draped a cape around my shoulders, I stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t the girl on her knees in the middle of a warehouse. I wasn’t even the girl trolling a clubhouse looking for someone to notice her, praying for someone to save her. I was me, just Ally, and while I’m nowhere near being healed, I am becoming a woman the world will remember.

A fearless woman.

With fire inside her and a match in her hand.