Taken

Zoey (Chapter 24)

I sat on my bed amazed. I actually met my real dad. It was just unreal.

I replayed the scene in my head. I never imagined meeting my father since I always thought that Anthony was my real father. But somehow I felt like that short time with Carson had felt more fatherly than years spent with Anthony. The more I thought about it the more I realized that Anthony never truly cared about me as a daughter; it was more like I was a responsibility. I had noticed it from seeing how my friend's dad's treated their daughters, but I had always assumed that it was just Anthony's way of parenting that caused him to treat me a little differently. Monica treated me like a daughter, as far as I could tell.

The longer I sat there, thinking about my life, the more uncomfortable I became. I realized that there was one thing I had failed to mention to the Troops and it scared me to revisit the thought.

The year before, Monica had told Anthony that she wanted to go to Washington D.C. as a family trip. We went and one of the last things we had planned was to take a tour of the White House.

Somehow during the tour I got separated from the rest of the group. While looking for them I had wandered into a room where two women in suits we whispering to each other, even though before I had walked in they had been completely alone. It took them awhile to realize that I was in there, so I was able to hear some of their conversation.

They said something about how their group was completely different from the others and how the first meeting had gone really well and that the next one would be held next week. One of the women said something to the extent that the bomb would go off the day before the meeting and that they were expecting at least 50 casualties from the White House, though none of them would be very "important" lives lost.

I had been listening so intently I hadn't realized that I was beginning to lean closer to hear more and before I realized it I fell forward causing both women to stop talking at look at me. I played it off like I hadn't heard anything and that I was looking for my group. At first I thought they had believed me, but about two weeks later I started to get strange letters in the mail saying things like "We haven't forgotten about you," and "You think you got away?" It never escalated to anything more than that until I got that phone call saying that I was going to die.

I didn't tell the Troops and I still didn't want to tell them because no one would want to believe that the government that they worked for possibly had undercover terrorists on the inside. But if I did tell them then John would understand why I hadn't wanted to go into that interrogation room with him; I was afraid those women would be in there. But on the other side, if I did tell them they could think that I was crazy.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. I stared at it, waiting for someone to say something. When no one did I cautiously asked "Who is it?", even though I probably should have kept my mouth shut.

"It's John! Can I come in?" Thanks be to Robert Downey Jr.

"Yeah one second!" I called back. I checked my reflection in the mirror out of habit before opening the door. I felt bad for having developed small feeling for John so soon after Brad's horrible death, but I couldn't help it. He just was special. I loved the way he had tried to keep my spirits up about my dad and brother and not to mention he reminded me of a younger version of Brad Paisley, which was an immediate turn on in my book. He made my heart leap when I saw him, but then it would sink after I thought about Brad. Even though I had told myself that Brad wasn't even worth mourning over, I just wasn't that type of person.

"Hey," I said opening the door. Luckily I had chosen to stay in my clothes for a little longer before going to bed otherwise it would have been very awkward. As for him it looked like he had thrown himself together really fast. "Is something wrong?" I asked as I gestured for him to come in.