Prologue
In reality, the start of my story is nothing unique; it really wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.
Here you are, opening up this near ruined notebook for whatever reason sparked your desire to do so. Maybe you’re hoping to gain something from this story, my story. Well newsflash: all you’re going to gain from this is the miserable story of a girl whose world got flipped upside down in the utterly most tragic way possible. Is that what you really want to read? About my misery and what exactly happened to me when I hopped on a plane and left the good ol’ United States of America?
God I should have never gotten on that plane. I should have stuck with a minimum wage paying job at home.
As I’m sitting here scribbling in a crappy notebook that survived going to Hell and back only to be locked in this miniscule room in a tower in what I believe is some tiny town in Germany (more on this Greek tragedy later), I can reflect on the fact that I most likely am not going to survive. I’m still in shock about how I ended up here and how exactly I am going to get out of this situation; needless to say, I’ve really done it this time. I might have scared you off by mentioning how miserable my story is, but part of the reason I’m writing this is in hopes that somebody finds this and believes me; believes that this actually happened and that I am still alive out there because I think there is a zero percent chance that I am going to get out of this alive if somebody doesn’t help me.
I don’t think I have long before they come back for me. They barely leave me alone now, not after the stunt we pulled before getting dragged to separate rooms. The trust was barely there to begin with, but now it’s gone. I can only hope my friends -can I even call them that?- haven’t gone through the same torture I have the last few days.
They need us. We’re their last hope. But we don’t want to help them. We shouldn’t.
I can hear them coming back down the hallway now. I’ve got to hide the notebook before they find it and take it away from me.
Okay. You’re about to read and find out what happened to me, at least I hope you haven’t quit reading by this point. I hope you’re ready to read this and if you happen to be the lucky reader who is reading out of this poor spiral notebook, I BEG of you: please help me.
With love and perhaps minor fear of the future,
Adalyn Fray