The days went on with no beatings. Holden hadn't been by in a few days and whenever Ron came in it was only to give him food or to see how he was. Taylor learned that by keeping his mouth shut he could stay out of trouble for the most part, but Ron was like a loose cannon. He seemed to get mad over the smallest things. Taylor had become restless in his room. He felt cooped up and he wanted so badly to go outside or just have something to do. He had found a notebook and a pen in one of the shelves and he wrote down songs that came to him. Through this experience Taylor felt he could come up with enough material for five more albums. It seemed all he did now was write songs and watch TV. He began thinking about the band and performing. He missed playing his piano. He missed everything. He day dreamed about police surrounding the house and running in to save him. He imagined his family embracing him in their happy reunion. These were all just hopeful thoughts that came into his head, that kept him going.

Taylor looked through the notebook at all the things he had written down. He had never written so many depressing songs in his life. Songs about suicide and ending all the pain. Songs of fear and being afraid of the people around you. Songs of betrayal from all the people Ron had told him about who he thought he knew and trusted.

Taylor set the notebook down on the bed. He couldn't take this life. He could not live like this. He began to think of ways to get himself out. He remembered his cell phone and wondered if the car Mark had brought him there in was still parked outside. His mind raced. If only he could get a hold of his cell phone he could call home and tell everyone where he was and they would come and get him. He had to do this and he had to come up with a plan.

He laid down on his back and looked at the ceiling. How could he get to his cell phone? Was the car even still outside? He had to know if the car was still there. He had to get them to let him go outside and he had to do it without looking suspicious. He sat up and began to write in his notebook some more as he waited for Ron to make his usual visit. About an hour later the door came open and Ron came in.

"How are we today?" Ron asked walking over to Taylor's bed.

"How do you think?" Taylor asked, closing his notebook and holding onto it tightly. Ron looked at the notebook, then back up at Taylor.

"What are you writing?" he asked. Taylor saw him looking at his notebook.

"Nothing" he said, putting the notebook behind him. He didn't want Ron to read his songs. Ron reached for it. Taylor grabbed his arm and tried to push it away.

"I want to go outside" Taylor blurted out. Ron pulled his arm away and looked at him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why? Because I've been cooped up here in this room for days. You can't tell me you're never going to let me go outside. I need some fresh air" Taylor said, sitting up.

"I can't take you outside, I'm busy" Ron said, getting up to leave. Taylor couldn't leave it alone.

"Then get one of those other guys to take me! I need to get out of this fucking room!" Taylor yelled, now standing up. Ron turned around and walked toward Taylor. Taylor backed up until his back hit the wall. He quickly regretted yelling at Ron. Ron grabbed his arm hard, "Ow!" Taylor yelled in pain.

"Don't you ever yell at me" Ron said, looking into Taylor's eyes. Taylor nodded and Ron let go of his arm. Taylor stood there rubbing his arm, watching Ron walk away thinking that he got mad way too easily. Ron stopped and turned around again, looking at Taylor.

"If I let one of my men take you outside you're not going to try anything. If you try to get away I swear I will kill you" Ron stated. Taylor looked at him.

"I won't try to get away" Taylor said. Ron hesitated.

"I'll send someone in to get you soon" he said, then he walked out of the room. Taylor sat down on the bed, still rubbing his arm. He pushed his hair back tried to think of what he was going to do once he was outside. He had no steady plan. He just had to go with it and hoped an opportunity would present itself. This was only to say that the car was even still there and even if it was there, how did he know Ron hadn't gone in and taken his phone? There were so many obstacles that could be in his way, but he had to try. What did he have to lose?

He pulled out his notebook and began to write more words down as he waited for someone to come in and take him out of the room. He felt butterflies in his stomach thinking that he may be able to get out of this place if he only had that phone.