It was three thirty in the morning. Due to the fact that my life had just been destroyed, I was walking home in the rain, which helped to hide my tears. Kicking a can in front of me, I dismally walked with no destination in mind. The dried blood on my shirt wasn't going anywhere. Neither were the deep wounds that would inevitably turn into scars. Suddenly, a car pulled up.

The window rolled down. A man leaned his head out. "Hey." He said. "What are you doing out here in the rain?" I didn't respond. "Oh, I see." He continued. "One of those things, is it? Something bad, whether it be justified or not, has shot you out here against your will. I'm not gonna force you, but get in the car if you want. I've got a lot of spare rooms at my house."

I got in the car. I had no idea where I was going, but all I knew was that I wanted to be away from where I was. I replayed the events of the day in my head.

It had been my birthday. I'd woken up to my parents standing above me, and "Sweet Sixteen" banners all around. I'd sat up, only to be served breakfast in bed. After spending a few hours unwrapping presents and the like, my dad showed me outside. A new car was waiting there. I'd climbed in, and driven off in a little joyride. Then my parents had climbed in and we'd gone to get my full licence.

We turned left onto a gravel road. The man stopped the car and looked at me. "What exactly happened?" He asked. "Usually, the people I pick up are bawling their eyes out, giving me their whole life story."

"What do you mean, usually?" I asked, suddenly becoming afraid.

"Don't get the wrong idea." He answered. "I'm not one of those guys! I drive around picking up people who are living in poverty, or who have had something bad happen to them, and I take them to this rehab center, where, if they pass the tests, they're sent to a better place." Seeing my wide eyes, he quickly added "Oh, they don't die! No, I've been to the better place myself. It's a different world." He restarted the engine and we drove on in silence.

As we drove out onto the interstate, everything was going fine. We were rocking out to Journey, and going a little too fast. But there wasn't anyone around. Which should have worried me, considering it was rush hour. As we turned a corner, a horrible sight lay before us. There had been a humongous rock slide that had blocked the road and killed about twenty people. As my dad and I got out to search for survivors, the engine sputtered a bit, causing enough noise to start another rock slide. The rocks rolled down behind the car. The steep sides of the mountain prevented any climbing, trapping the three of us in a small stretch of the interstate.

Now we were coming up on a small town. As we drove through, I looked into windows, seeing the people inside happily sleeping or partying. They'd never seen someone they loved die right in front of their eyes.

My mom, dad, and I searched around the rocks and the road for hours, trying to find a way to get out. After a few fruitless hours, we gave up. Then, there was a small shout from above, and a rope dropped down to road level. A man stuck his head over the edge and motioned for us to climb up. We did, and, as soon as we'd all reached the top, other men had appeared and shoved sacks onto our heads, and then we were tossed into a car.

We reached a large forest. The man drove us in without hesitation, and I didn't ask why we had to go in. I just simply stared out of the window and continued recollecting.

After a few hours of riding blindfolded in a car, my mom, dad, and I had been unloaded and tied onto chairs. They had ripped the sacks off of our heads. Our eyes had then opened onto the sight of six or seven people chained onto the wall. Each of them had been tortured to different degrees. There had been three slots open.

We were driving through the forest when we turned a corner to a startlingly bright light. Ahead was a small, brightly lit town.

The man who had lured us out of the rock slides earlier had untied my dad, then thrown him over his shoulder and chained him to the wall. then my mom and I had been forced to watch as he tortured my father to death. Then he had done the same with my mom. When he came for me, I had bitten his hand. The man had slapped me, then, as he was lugging me over to the wall, mumbled something about taking it slow with me.

We pulled into a parking lot and climbed out. The man led me into the largest building of the town, which was, I figured, the rehab center the man had told me about. He led me into a small bedroom, in which I fell asleep and involuntarily relived the rest of the horrible night.

The man had spent almost two hours lacerating and burning multiple parts of my body. then the police had burst in. Turns out, they had been tracking these guys for months. After they'd killed all of the serial killers, they'd taken me off of the wall. In my frantic state, I'd thought hey were trying to hurt me, as well. I'd ran out and jumped in a van, speeding off into the night.

After about half an hour of meaningless driving, I slammed into a tree and was knocked unconscious. I woke up two hours later, at about three in the morning. When I'd climbed out, the full reality of what had happened. My parents had been killed, and I'd been saved by the police, which I'd run away from. I'd become an orphan. As I aimlessly wandered the streets, a man pulled up and asked me to ride with him, which had led me to where I am now.