Bang

It was due to start at any minute, the screams and the massacre that was all my fault.

Why hadn't I just left it? If I hadn't gone back there, several lives - but most prominently mine - wouldn't be at stake.

"You don't have to do this," I begged the man standing in front of me. It was a futile attempt at defusing the situation. And it didn't work.

"It's the only way." he sighed.

"It isn't!" I pleaded.

"It's the only way they'll listen."

"Killing people is never an answer." I sobbed.

"God is cruel," he simply replied.

I didn't question him. I was too tired, and frankly just plain fed up of this man. My mother had always said 'Don't talk to strangers!' , a simple instruction. But than again when was the last time one had heard of the caretaker of the local all girl's school to kidnap one of it's students? I just didn't understand. Why had I been the one chosen?

I wasn't a particularly interesting person. I was the only daughter of a single mother, who was the eldest daughter of a single mother. I went to school with my cousin and my aunt, both of whom I was older than.

Ok, family life aside, I wasn't an interesting person. If we were basing this on looks, I was pretty much your average teenage girl. My shoulder length brunette hair was held back with my Alice hair-band. I was still wearing my snobby school uniform, although my captivity had brought on it a transformation. Some blood splattered on my ivory white shirt from the whack I'd taken to the head earlier.

It had been a simple thing. I had just walked out the gate with Dylan, my cousin, when I realised I'd forgotten a book I need for my History homework. I had just stretched up to get the book when the caretaker rounded the corner. I'd smiled and waved. He grinned.

The next thing I knew, I'd woken up in a strange room I didn't recognise, my arms stretched upwards and tied to a low-hanging beam; my head throbbing. And I hadn't moved from that spot since.

"The cops are going to take me away. Kill me, more than likely. I can't leave you, not so soon after getting you back, Kyle."

Okay. Now, I wasn't just scared. I was positively petrified. I didn't recall telling this man what my name was. And as he said this, he gently stroked the side of my face.

"How...how did you know that was my name?" I spluttered.

He sighed. "I know a lot about you, Kyle. Your name is Kyle Robin Summers. A very masculine name for a girl don't you think? You were born to Alison Maria Summers, on November 11th, 1992. Your mother was twenty two years old at the time. She has raised you for most of your life, although she very briefly considered putting you up for adoption when she realised she might have to deal with life as a single mother. She didn't want to end up like her mother; who was having her fourth child not long after you were born. Her mother was always single too."

I stared at this man with my jaw not far from hitting the floor. He had just recited some information that was new to me. "What do you mean 'putting me up for adoption?' And how the hell do you know all this?" My head was sore enough already, and this latest turn in events had it completely spinning.

He smirked at me. "Isn't it obvious?"

I was usually an intelligent young girl. I had been told it from a young age. But my head was pounding and I just couldn't concentrate. The caretaker's girlfriend re-entered the room with a worried look on her face.

"The crowd outside is growing." she mumbled. I couldn't understand her part in this. She seemed like such a nice person. Than again, so had the caretaker. Damn, I didn't even know this man's name. But he sure knew a lot about me. "And the cops have been quiet for a bit. I think they're planning something."

"They wouldn't try to cross me. I'll kill all of them if I have to. And the kid." he added the last sentence as an after-thought, but his female counterpart stiffened at such an idea and met my eyes, her face apologetic. I suppressed a sigh. It seemed I knew who was in charge.

I couldn't figure out how this was going to down. Was this strange man going to kill me, as he threatened? Along with all the cops that stood in his way? Would he kill his female friend? Would he kill the rest of my family too? He seemed to know an alarming amount of information about me.

The sound of a door being kicked down brought me out of my thoughts, the loud sound painfully reverberating in my head. Before I knew what was going on, the man had grabbed me once again; one hand wrapped just around my waist, the other pressing a sharp knife to my neck. I felt the panic in me rise.

"Robin Bailey? Jennifer Palmer-Bailey?" a booming, female voice enquired.

"Who wants to know?" the man snarled.

"My name is Officer Savannah Patterson. And all I want you to do is release Kyle Summers. That surely isn't much of a task is it?" the officer stood forward so we could get a better glimpse of her. I panicked even more when I saw that she, along with the rest of the police officers, were completely armed up with bullet proof vests and other equipment that restricted our view on their looks. All I could see was that Officer Patterson's skin was of a light shade of olive, and she had kind hazel eyes. And perhaps long black hair, but I couldn't be certain. My vision had greatly blurred since I had been held captive, and things were getting darker by the minute.

"I'll slit her damn throat right in front of you damn cops. Than I'll track the rest of her family... and finish them off too." My panic got the better of me and my panicked squeal resulted in my neck getting a quick, but none the less painful, slit just below my right ear. I sobbed a little in protest.

"No. You won't." Officer Patterson replied, loudly and clearly. It obviously antagonised him.

"You trying to challenge me or something?" he angrily replied as his grip on me became tighter.

"We know you and Jenny are infertile." Officer Patterson announced, out of the blue.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" the man angrily retorted.

"Everything actually. You and Jenny can't have children. A huge problem at first right? Jenny always wanted a little girl. But you. Well you wanted a little boy instead. Someone you could name your father after. After all, you abandoned your daughter years ago. Didn't you?" Officer Patterson said, really going in for the punch.

"Stop." he shrieked. Even his wife seemed to shrink away from him now, afraid of the man she loved.

"So after Jenny told you that she wanted a daughter, you pretty much thought; 'Hey I've got one of those'." Urgh. So this guy had abandoned a kid. I could identify with his kid more than I liked.

"You have no idea what your talking about!" he screamed in protest, and my headache was horribly amplified. It was affecting my usually clear thinking and I hated it.

"Don't I?" the Officer questioned.

He pressed the knife further into my throat. Even the slightest movement that could cause him to jerk could slice my neck open at this stage. "She didn't mean much to me sixteen years ago. It still stands."

"You're a good man at heart Robin, you wouldn't be able to kill your own flesh and blood."

Flesh and blood? His? Kill? Than my logic kicked in. Robin. I thought back to what my captor had said a few moments previously. 'Your name is Kyle Robin Summers. A very masculine name for a girl don't you think?' It couldn't be true. My head was spinning and struggling to keep up with these developments. And I could hardly keep my eyes open...

"You try me." he said in a malevolent tone. I was really, truely beginning to fear for my life at that moment. Than, out of nowhere.

Bang.

The knife fell suddenly, but not before slightly, but none the less painfully grazing my neck and chest.

Someone behind me thudded to the floor.

The woman I now knew as Jenny, was holding a gun out, and still pointing it in my direction.

I stood in shock at what was going on around me. As most of the officers went to check the man for a sign of life, or to secure the girlfriend who was still holding the gun that fired the killing shot; Officer Patterson was alone in showing any interest in my well being.

"It's okay!" the female officer kept repeating to me as she rushed over. She said something else and indicated the blood splattering my, previously white shirt. I looked down and realised something; most of that wasn't my blood. I looked at the body of the man who had held me captive, who had a single gun shot wound to his head. And that sickening realisation hit again, the one I had moments before. That man... was. Was.

My father.

And that was the last thing I did, and last thing I thought, before I passed out in the female officers arms.