CHAPTER 1

I woke up in a hospital room, though my mind was blurred and it wasn't until I saw the other patients in the room that I actually realized where I was.

"Aw geez," I muttered, pushing myself up on my elbows, trying to get up. A searing pain shot through my arm, and I winced, biting my lip when I tried not to scream and wake the others in the room, all of whom were sleeping. My legs felt like jelly and my head felt like it had been hit by a truck, or at least a very, very large car.

When I was finally making progress getting down from the bed, a nurse entered the room. She was plump, and seemed like the motherly type. Her greying curls were pinned back, and on top of them perched a little white hat. When she saw my pathetic attempt to get up, she rushed to my side.

"No, you have to lie down! You haven't fully recovered yet," she said, helping me back to my bed. My head was still throbbing, and I got the feeling my vision wasn't all the best since everything was a little blurred at the edges. Then again, my contacts had fallen out.

"What happened?" I groaned, realizing my voice was very rough and hoarse. "Could I get a glass of water?"

She smiled and went out to get me one. When she came back, she adjusted my sheets around me, picking at stray threads, like a mother hen, then handed me the glass.

"Comfortable?" she asked. I nodded, smiling at her. She seemed nice enough.

"What happened?" I repeated my earlier question.

"A man called an ambulance two days ago. He had been traveling, and heard you groaning in the forest. From what I hear, you were surrounded by a very large pool of blood and you're lucky you're still alive. You were rushed here, and operated on. Your ankle is sprained, so you'll be on crutches for a while. The cut on your arm was deep, and needed stitches though. You'll be completely fine, dearie don't worry."

She smiled at me then, a wide smile that showed the dimples in her plump brown cheeks.

"Now darling," she said, frowning slightly. "I know this is short notice, but the doctors insist you're fine and all that jazz..." She trailed off, muttering something to herself. I raised a pale eyebrow at her, but winced when the drums in my head started up again.

She noticed my pain and looked at me with worry.

"Are you okay sugar? Should I call in the doctor?" I shook my head, smiling to reassure her.

"What were you saying before you got distracted?" I asked, trying to change the topic.

"Ah yes!" she exclaimed. "The doctors insist that we do something about your file; they said we should fill it with at least your name and age, so we have some information about you. I said we should wait a while, but no..." Here she trailed off, muttering something about amnesia, but I wasn't paying enough attention to actually make it out.

A wave of nausea rolled over me, and I covered my mouth in an attempt to stop myself from puking all over the crisp, white sheets that I was covered with.

"I shouldn't have brought that up," said the nurse, as she handed me a bowl, conveniently placed near the bed. I vomited into said container, scrunching my nose at the brown globs that floated in the liquid.

"Ew," I said. The nurse laughed.

"Yes, vomit generally induces such reactions. Back to the matter at hand though sugar, I really do need your name and age for the file."

My name, my name, my name... Everything was still fuzzy, I couldn't think clearly as a result of my headache. My name... As I racked my brain, trying to remember, it seemed that everything hit me full force. I paled as I remembered the chase, the truck driver, Ryan, my father.

Dad. He hadn't found me yet, judging by the fact that I was still in the hospital. Whenever I got ill or injured, he called in his personal physician. He never wanted to take me to the hospital, afraid of allowing me to come into contact with more people than absolutely necessary.

The intensity of my headache increased as blood rushed to my brain, roaring loudly and pounding on the walls of my head. I gripped my forehead and started to scream as it grew worse. My screams grew louder and louder, drowning out all other sound. I remember that someone ran in then, and that a sharp object pierced my skin. I felt drowsy, and stopped screaming as I closed my eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

~|~|~

When I opened my eyes a few hours later, the room was darker. Light filtered in through the blinds; the last rays of sunshine for the day.

The nurse from earlier walked in, holding a clipboard.

"Oh, you're finally up. Feeling any better doll?"

"A little." I stretched, although the arm with the stitches in it hurt.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked.

"Yes."

"So you know that I still need your name for my file," she said.

"Yes," I sighed. "My name is-" I hesitated, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to tell the truth and have my dad find me either.

"I'm Samantha Calloway," I lied, my stomach tightening as I did so. I really hated lying.

"Well, Samantha," said the nurse, obviously seeing straight through my lie, but writing it on her clipboard anyway.

"Your age?"

"I'm sixteen." This time I told the truth, unable to bear the twisting of my gut had I lied again.

"You seem a bit young to be lost in the forest," she frowned. "Sugar, whatever you've got going on at home, it's all gonna work out, you know that right? God's got your back no matter what."

I turned my head away. This woman had no idea what was going on my home; no one did. Who was she to tell me that I would be fine? She didn't know what my dad did to me on a regularly basis, what kind of abuse I went through.

"Ma'am, I'm fine. My business is my business, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't poke your nose into it." She flinched at my cold tone, and smiled sadly at me.

"Alright then." She got up to leave. "But just remember one thing: God's going to manifest in your life in ways you could never have imagined." With that, she left and I settled back into my bed, her comment playing over and over again in my head.

God's going to manifest in your life in ways you could never have imagined...

Still thinking about that, I drifted off to sleep.

~|~|~

I woke up to the sound of infuriated shouting.

"She is my daughter, and I will take her home!"

My blood ran cold as I heard the voice. It couldn't be; he couldn't have found me so quickly.

"Sir we understand you completely, but your daughter needs to regain some strength. She just suffered a most traumatizing experience, and needs time to recuperate. We can't just move her from one place to another without considering her health-"

"Did you not hear me the first time? Our family doctor will attend to her, and anything that she needs will be seen to. Now, let me take my child home!"

I pushed back the sheets and stood up. My ankle hurt but not so much that I couldn't even walk with it. I limped to the hallway, where this argument was taking place.

My dad had somehow managed to make his way past the administration desk, and was standing mere meters away from where I was. His auburn hair was messed up-not that there was much to mess up- and his nostrils were flared. He was arguing with a tall, bony grey haired woman wearing a white lab coat who I assumed was in charge. A smallish woman stood beside them, looking petrified. Not that I blamed her. My dad had that effect on most people.

He looked around then, and caught my eye. We looked at each other for what couldn't have been more than five seconds, but felt like eternity.

He broke the spell when he grabbed me by my arm and spun around, dragging me with him. I tried to pull away, but his iron grip just got stronger.

"Dad, please let me go," I muttered, not wanting to infuriate him further.

He looked at me, his emerald green eyes meeting mine. The eyes I had inherited; the only part of me remotely like my father.

"Shut up twit," he hissed, yanking me so hard my arm felt like it was on fire. Luckily enough, it wasn't the one with stitches.

I wanted to scream in pain, to wrench my arm from his to take a stand against him once and for all, but I couldn't. I was too scared. He was strong and powerfully built, which wasn't surprising considering the fact that he had his own gym. I was weak and puny, not to mention injured.

The doctor, who had been watching wide eyed in shock, jumped into action when Dad started dragging me down the stairs.

"Sir Samantha's health is-"

Dad cackled, and flecks of spittle landed on me as he did so.

"Samantha?" he laughed. "She told you her name was Samantha? What other lies did she feed you-oh wait, she told you her mum was Angelina Jolie."

He laughed again, and I winced as more spit landed on my face. The doctor paused, checking her records.

"Isn't...isn't your name Samantha Calloway?" she frowned, the lines on her face becoming more pronounced as she did.

Dad answered for me.

"Oh this is rich!" he said. "Her name is Ashley. Ashley Dawson."

He raised one bushy red eyebrow, waiting for the doctor to make the connection. And she did.

"Oh my...Mr Dawson?" she asked cautiously, almost afraid to know the answer. Dad nodded.

Richard E. Dawson. Business mogul, founder and owner of Dawson Enterprises. He was revered in the business world, and everywhere else to be honest. Ranked as one of the richest men in America according to Forbes, he had no shortage of admirers- or haters. I fell into the category of the latter. I was surprised that she hadn't removed her coat for him to walk on; she looked that stunned. The other woman had disappeared long ago.

"I...I...you...I...but-" Dad cut off her stammering.

"If you're done gaping, my daughter and I will be going now." He pulled out his wallet, and took a few bills from it, handing them to the still stunned doctor.

"This should cover the bills."

He recommenced dragging me away, whilst the doctor just stared at us. She looked forlornly at me, as if she wished she could help, but I understood that she couldn't. If she had, she'd be out of a job faster than she could blink. My dad had good connections.

A sleek Mercedes Benz stood outside, the door held open by Ray, my father's chauffeur. He was renowned for his hard heart so I was taken by surprise when he shot me a fleeting look of pity, before reverting to his gargoyle-like posture. I blinked twice, unsure of whether or not to believe that what I had just seen was real. Unfortunately for me, before I could make up my mind, I was pushed into the backseat by my father, and landed ungracefully with a rather loud 'oomph.'

Dad sat in the passenger seat, fuming.

I tried to lighten the mood.

"So...how's everyone doing?" I said weakly, and the glare I received from my father was enough to send me cowering back into my seat.

So much for trying to lighten the mood.

~|~|~

I was rudely awoken from my sleep by Dad, who jerked opened the door on which I was leaning, causing the rest of my body to collide with the cold, hard gravel. I didn't bother asking for help, knowing that it wouldn't be given, as I stood up and picked gravel from my palms.

I looked up at the white mansion which loomed overhead. My knees shook, and my hands trembled as I stared at my house, also known as my prison. I gulped, and one thought ran over and over again in my mind.

I'm back.