Kitty comes back before the end of the show, this time holding a sparkly silver purse instead of a clipboard.

She's changed out of the playsuit and is wearing an elegant black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline.

If only I'd put on a pretty dress today. FML.

"This way, ladies," she says gesturing out the door.

The Alastair's Angels push in front of me as we walk to the door.

Kitty leads us through a labyrinth of corridors and elevators, all the way to the backstage area on the ground floor.

We're ushered into a small, brightly lit dressing room, with several leather sofas and racks of clothes.

The walls are covered in mirrors, and the angels quickly whip out their makeup.

We haven't been in the room more than ten seconds before they're inspecting their reflections, puckering their lips and adding that all-important final coat of lip gloss.

I don't have any makeup or even a hairbrush with me, and there's no way in hell I'd ask the angels if I can use theirs... so I place my guitar case in the corner of the room and take a seat on one of the sofas, hugging my school bag close against my body.

Looking pretty right now really isn't that important. All I care about is finally meeting the boys.

The angels are so absorbed in parading around in front of the mirrors that they don't even turn around to face Kitty when she tells us that the guys will be through in a few minutes.

After she leaves, I check my phone.

Jamie and Zee still haven't answered me, but it's only a matter of time.

They can't miss this.

After what feels like forever, I hear footsteps and voices in the corridor outside.

A crowd of people passes by, too fast for me to see if any of the boys were in the group.

I'm tempted to get up and look down the corridor after them.

Before I can even budge from my seat, a head pops around the corner.

"We'll be heading off in five. Hope you girls are ready for a party."

Alastaire leans against the doorway, still wearing the white v-neck top and skinny jeans he wore on stage.

He always looks sort of angelic in photos and videos, (inhumanely perfect according to Jamie), and the real life version doesn't disappoint.

Tall and lean with clear blue eyes and a halo of messy gold hair, beautiful is the only word that does him justice. In fact, he's prettier than most girls.

The angels scream his name and surround him in seconds. I'm still glued to the sofa, too overwhelmed by everything to properly react.

That's when I realize that Alastaire's deep blue gaze has alighted on me.

He detaches himself from the angels and is in front of the sofa in a flash, leaning over me with one hand on the armrest. Locking me in.

He is way too deep into my personal space.

"Odd, I don't recall having my guys pull you out of the crowd," he says with a sly smile.

Up close, he smells of a spicy, woody cologne, and something else. Baking?

He brings his free hand to his mouth and I see he's holding a half-eaten cupcake.

He lifts it to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking the peachy-pink frosting while his eyes glitter just inches from my own.

It has the desired effect on the angels – they start shrieking – but I feel extremely uncomfortable, and I slowly shift away from him, looking down at my lap.

He tosses the cupcake away (I don't even look but it probably ended up on the floor), and he suddenly grabs my chin and tilts my face up towards his own.

"Don't be so scared of me. I just want to know who added you to the line-up."

Before I can answer, the angel in the sparkly gold top pipes up.

"She's not here for you, Alastaire. She's Felix's guest."

At this, Alastaire releases me and steps back from the couch.

He looks me up and down and nods, like I'm a shiny new toy that's met with his approval.

"Really? Felix found you? How interesting. He's going to have to share." He winks at me, before turning back to face the angels.

"You girls can go now."

A moment of silence is followed by squeals of protest.

"But... I thought..." the girl in the sparkly gold top stammers, sounding like she's choking back tears.

"What you think really isn't of concern, ladies," Alastaire says, his voice as light and charming as ever. "You're not needed anymore. My most sincere apologies."

He certainly doesn't sound very sincere.

He waves airily at the door. "Now, go home."

The girls are hysterical, and I feel bad for them.

No matter how bitchy they might have been acting earlier, they're still fans, just like me.

No one deserves to be treated this way.

And besides... I definitely don't want to be left all alone in the dressing room with him.

"Let them stay," I say. "Please." I intend for it to sound strong, but my voice is a bit shaky.

"Ah, finally. She speaks." He smiles at me, before heading towards the door.

He doesn't even turn around as he addresses the cluster of angels. "Fine. The rest of you girls can tag along if you want to. I'll be right back."

As he disappears into the corridor, the angels surround me.

"Bitch." The curly-haired girl who Alastaire pulled onstage during the show practically spits the word at me.

What? I just convinced Alastair to let them stay. I helped them.

Before I can shield myself, she slaps me hard across the face.

I'm still reeling from the shock of this when my bag is ripped out of my arms and tossed aside. My phone and textbooks fly out all over the floor.

The girls drag me from the sofa and kick my feet out from under me. The back of my head hits the floor hard, and for a moment my vision is filled with dark spots.

"Whores belong on their backs," the curly-haired girl says, followed by giggles from the other angels.

My head's still spinning, and everything seems to be going too fast.

Girls hold me down on either side, with one girl sitting on my legs and another holding my arms.

The angel in the sparkly gold top crawls on top of me, straddling my waist and pinning me down.

No matter how hard I struggle, I can't free myself.

She trails her fingers up my chest until they brush my collarbone, up towards my neck, and that tips me over the edge.

Before I can scream, a hand is clenched over my mouth, muffling my cries.

"Calm down. I'm not going to strangle you. I just wanna help you get ready for your big date with Alastaire." Her voice is dripping with venom.

I scream and scream but her hand completely muffles the sound. She tugs at the zipper on my hoodie, and grunts when it holds fast.

It's probably caught on my cami or something, and trying to force it will just make it harder.

"Liz. Pass me your nail scissors." She sticks her free hand into the air.

Liz, who I now identify as the shorter girl with messy platinum hair, does as she's told and fishes a shiny pair of manicure scissors out of her bag.

As she passes them over, I put all my strength into trying to dislodge the girl on my chest.

"Whoa! Careful! You don't want me accidentally stabbing you, right?" She dangles the scissors inches from my face, and presses her body weight harder against me.

I can barely breathe.

She cuts into my hoodie and in one quick movement slits the fabric off each arm, before cutting away the zip.

I kick out with my legs, try to shake her off, but it's no use.

"Why are you still fighting me?" She asks, practically shouting now as she peels away the remnants of my hoodie in messy red strips of fabric.

"Can't you see that we're helping you? Alastaire likes his girls showing a bit of skin."

With my hoodie gone I'm down to just jeans, my bra and a flimsy, practically see-through camisole.

The girl called Liz kneels down and sticks her finger under my cami strap, pulling it away from my shoulder.

They wouldn't...

The scissors snip through the strap, first on the left, then on the right.

I feel the fabric being ripped off my body, so that only my bra remains. My torso is completely naked, and I know the bra is next.

I'm crying now, my whole face wet with tears.

"Oooh! Where'd you get these beauties?" Fingers slither across the scars on my ribcage, tracing a line just below my bra's underwire. The same dull stabbing pain I felt earlier during my set at the Night Owl is back. I flinch, arch my back as the pain sears through me.

The hand over my mouth shifts upwards slightly and covers my nostrils, so that I can't breathe at all, and in that moment I know I'm going to die.

A familiar sensation trickles over me. Icy water pulls me under, and the room goes dark.

My chest burns. I can taste salt in my mouth. My head is filled with screaming.

The screeching of my classmates, the groaning of the bus, twisting metal and crashing waves.

Sharp, forlorn screams. Sheer terror.

Then I realize the screams aren't in my head. Someone is actually screaming right now.

It's me.

That's impossible. There's a hand over my mouth. Which is why I can't scream, or breathe. Which is why I'm back here, fighting the current, dying all over again.

Suddenly the weight is lifted off me, and I take in a huge gulp of air.

I'm wrapped up in someone's arms, and they are gently lifting me up off the floor.

The icy darkness trickles away, and I can see that the girls are huddled in the corner of the room looking terrified.

One of them seems to have red dripping from her hand. It looks like blood.

Even more shocking however is the presence of all five members of Fable in the room with us.