A war-stricken world where all else is forsaken but winning...

Brianna is an innocent teenager who gets bullied at school, and abused by her father at home. Jeremy is a popular jock who seems to have a great life, and gets anyone and anything he wants, but his home life isn't very stable. Nerd meets Jock. Hopelessness meets Hope. Brianna meets Jeremy.

And so it begins. The classic coming of age story about a twentysomething girl, finding her way in the city. After graduating (with an Arts degree- questionable choice, but we'll learn about that later) she finds a one bedroom apartment and she buys a cat. Life is sweet. She's a living, breathing, cat-hugging cliche of a single girl. To many people that's how it looks from the outside, that's about as interesting as it gets, and maybe, that's even where the story ends. But that girl is me, and unless I am a total wet blanket, I think we both know thats hardly all there is to tell. The more you get to know people, the more you learn that almost no-one is living their life like it appears from the outside. I'm going to tell you what its really like to be a twentysomething, to live alone, dabble in online dating, attempt to navigate my first functional relationship, work for the boss from hell, and try to find my feet in "this economy". Come on, you know what I mean. But before we can even get to that part of the story, you have to understand how the story begins. So here goes nothing...

Fifteen years. The number of normal every-day life. One day. The number of time when my life suddenly took a 180. 8000. The number of miles I was taken away from my home. Two. The number of parents I will never see again, Two weeks. The number of weeks I lived with kidnappers, rapists, and murderers. Three times. The number of times I lost my innocence to three different men. Four months. The number of months I lived a semi-normal but hectic life with practically strangers. Two. The number of children I carried Two. The number of times I was kidnapped. One week. The number of weeks I was held hostage. Thirty. The number of times I probably passed out or fainted. One hundred plus. The number of times I cried and felt sorry for myself. Six months. The number of months I waited until I got to see my children. Thirty seconds. The number of seconds it took before my life fully crumbled before my very eyes. A moment. How long it took for it all to start over again. Save Them, Please? *Sequel to 'Help Me, Please?*