The room I'm in, the one performers have to be at before they go on stage, has a couple of chairs, a small sofa and mirrors with a counter beneath. I spot drinks and a basket with snacks on the counter in the far right corner of the room. I don't usually eat or drink before a performance, but a sip of water can't do any harm.

My legs feel unstable when I walk to the basket on high heels. All was fine until about ten minutes ago, when Frank told me to be cautious. Cautious of what, of whom?

Naturally, all the bad encounters of the last few months resurface to my attention: the abduction, the anxiety after returning home, drugged at a party, running through freezing woods while on lsd and the almost second abduction because of Lucas. Am I missing something?

I open the bottle of water with slightly shaking hands and immediately spill some on the counter. I always shake a bit before a performance, but now I'm not sure if that's the only reason. Fear and anxiety start crawling upon me, but I don't let them overcome my state of mind. I force myself to be calm. All those people who tried to hurt me, and look: I'm still standing.

The truth is, nothing will probably happen, but I should trust Frank's instincts and be cautious, like he said.

And that's that. I take a deep breath and drink some water. I take my phone out of my purse. Like promised, I call Debby. Maybe she can clear up what went wrong.

I explain to her what's wrong, and she states she will find out what happened. It was a short call, but I trust Debby and her fixing abilities given by God. That woman is a miracle worker if I've ever known one.

I look at myself in the mirror. I have a funny feeling that I don't recognise myself anymore. Maybe it's the make-up, the fancy hairdo and expensive dress, but I don't seem to know the girl that's staring back at me in the mirror.

Funny, how I've often accused Frank of being unknown to me. I, literally, should've looked into the mirror.

The room feels cramped, so I decide to take a walk.

These hallways are clearly meant for employees and musicians, as the walls are made of concrete and do not look festive at all. I wander around a bit and focus on the performance I'm about to give. I especially concentrate on the first couple of bars. Mentally visualising the beginning of the piece is my key to successfully performing it. ....... Si-sol....... Si-sol.......Si-sol, la-si... la-sol-la-si. I visualise it over and over again, all the while I mentally harden the grip on my nerves.

I secretly hope Frank will make it in time to see me perform.

He has heard me playing many times now, while I was practising. But still, a performance is something else.

I keep strolling down the hall, until I come across a door. Hm, this should be a back entrance door for staff. A great idea suddenly pops up into my mind. I take my phone and call Frank. Come on, pick up the phone.

"You!"

I look up.

It's Mrs. Duchoix with her husband, the parents of Lucas. I haven't seen them since... well, since I was in the hospital after the whole incident involving their son. What are they doing here? Maybe they're invited to the party. Mrs. Duchoix looks upset and could burst into tears any moment now.

"It's your fault he's gone!"

Oh no.

Mr. Duchoix isn't far behind his wife and tries to calm her. She accusingly points her finger at me. "It's your fault!"

I almost forget I'm calling Frank, until I hear his voice in voicemail. "Frank, uh, there's a back entrance, just..."

Mrs. Duchoix suddenly comes closer and whispers frighteningly: "It's you who got him killed."

I freeze. I'm speechless.

Mr. Duchoix takes his wife by the arm and creates a distance between her and me.

I can barely hold back my own tears. "He can't..." I say quietly. "He can't be dead, I've just seen him a couple of days ago."

Mrs. Duchoix looks at me with widened eyes, but Mr. Duchoix appears to be angry at me, like I gave a woman false hope. He wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders and escorts her away from me. She's suddenly very quiet and reserved.

I watch them leave the hallway I'm standing in. As soon as they disappear behind a corner, I cover my stomach with my arms. Oh God. I try easing my respiration, in the hope that will be enough to keep my tears away.

I try to walk around a bit to shake off this terrible feeling, when I remember I was leaving Frank a message.

I look at my phone. I left a voicemail, but I don't know when it ended. I call Frank again while waving some air in my face. Voicemail again, dammit. "Frank uh," even to me, my voice sounds trembling and unstable "just call me when you get here." I think about what else I wanted to say to him, when a man walks into the hallway. "Jabari?"

He takes big steps in a hurry and finds himself near me within seconds. "We have to go, now."

I shake my head in confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"

Jabari looks behind his shoulder. "There's no time. We have to go."

I end the voicemail and put my phone away. "Jabari, I have a responsibility here, I can't just take off. Tell me what's going on."

He doesn't seem to bother much with what I'm saying.

I shake my head. "Where's Vicky? Is she alright?"

Again, Jabari looks behind his shoulder. "She's fine."

He then grabs my arm, and leads me up to the back entrance door. I try to follow as best as I can on my heels. What is going on? Were Frank's instincts legitimate? Is something bad going down? I remember Frank said I should go to Jabari if that were the case, but it appears Jabari found me first.

He opens the heavy backstage door and we walk outside. It's dark and not that cold.

I can't help but wonder what's wrong.

We walk in a hurry alongside the building. "Jabari, where are we going?" Either he hasn't heard me, or he chose to ignore me, because he doesn't answer my question. I start to feel uneasy about the whole situation and gradually slow down.

Jabari tightens his grip on my arm and stubbornly continues walking into the only direction we can go.

"Jabari, you have to tell me what's going on."

Again, he ignores me.

That's it.

I abruptly halt and pry my arm loose from his grip. "You are going to tell me what's going on right now."

Jabari only hesitates for two seconds before slightly bending his knees, and throwing me over on of his shoulders. Air is pushed out of my lungs and my ribs suffer under my own body weight.

What is happening?

"Jabari..."

Blood is going to my head, and my temperature rises. I even experience some acrophobia, because he's so tall. "Stop!"

I didn't expect him to listen, but he did stop after my exclamation.

"Put me down!"

I'm starting to get a pounding headache.

Jabari doesn't put me down.

I can't see his face, because my head is facing his back, but I hear a faint click. I try to look up, but I barely can. Even if I could, I wouldn't see that much. I can mostly just listen.

"You wouldn't." That's what Jabari says, but I don't understand why.

"What?" I ask.

Suddenly, a deafening shot is fired. In a reflex, I cover my ears and close my eyes. I barely notice Jabari slowly going down on one knee, but when I do, my instincts kick in and I push myself off of him.

Evidently, I've lost my sense of balance and fall onto the ground.

I can finally assert the situation. Jabari is kneeling and looking at what seems to be a policeman. I hoist myself onto my feet, with the help of a wall, and look at the policeman.

He looks frightened and focussed at the same time, but when he looks back at me, a loud gunshot fires and hits him in the shoulder. I cry out. Jabari fired the gun and breaths almost as heavily as I am.

He shot a policeman.

Did Jabari know him?

Was the policeman corrupt and dangerous?

Or is Jabari the dangerous one?

Frank told me to trust him, but my instincts tell me something different.

In a matter of seconds I decide.

I run.