nothing made any sense. Part of her clung desperately to the vague hope that it was a prank. The programme her parents liked to watch where unsuspecting members of the public were fooled – but the blood streaming from a gash in her cheek told her it wasn’t a joke. On TV, the tricks were unexpected, funny. Never cruel.
She rubbed her face against the wall of the van, trying to dislodge her blindfold. Each time they drove over a bump her head smashed painfully into the hard metal but still she persisted until at last she felt the material begin to slide.
She could see blurry shapes. She waited for her eyes to adjust.
The space was compact, dark. Only a small amount of light spilled through a grimy opaque window that led to the cab. Two figures sat shadowed in the front. Just two. Carly felt a flicker of hope. Although the twins were small, together they outnumbered the men. They had a fighting chance if only she knew what was planned for them. Where they were going.
She shifted her weight. If she could get close enough to the partition without being spotted she might be able to hear their conversation over the growl of the engine.
Always have a plan was her dad’s motto.
She might only be thirteen but they shouldn’t underestimate her.
Progress was slow as Carly rocked herself onto her knees. Using her toes for balance she moved her legs apart, waddling forwards, trying not to fall as the wheel dipped into a pothole. The engine grew louder as they gathered speed. They must have left town. A lump rose in Carly’s throat as she thought of the distance they must be from their house. Her pink flowery bedroom she was nagging her mum to decorate now that she was a teenager, her canopied bed she had loved at six but now found embarrassing. The twins’ mermaid room they insisted on sharing, stupid because their house was big enough for a bedroom each. Their cuddly toys lined up on the bed. Carly’s bears were stuffed at the bottom of her wardrobe. Still part of her, but not quite.
Focus.
She forced her left knee forward again as simultaneously the van flew over a bump. She toppled over, her face slamming against the floor. Stunned, she turned to the side, the tape that had covered her mouth hanging off. She spat out blood and a tooth, her nose hot with pain. She thought it might be broken.
She drew her knees to her chest and lay curved like a comma. Not a full stop. Not the end.
Her watch tick-tick-ticked.
Ten minutes? An hour? She’d lost all concept of time. She’d lost all concept of herself; a mass of pain and blood and fear, her cells skittering around her body as adrenaline flooded her system.
Fight or flight. She’d learned about it at school.
Determined, she dragged herself up onto her knees once more.
Another lurch. Wheels dipping in potholes. She was back on her side, juddering over rough terrain.
A slowing.
The crunch of the handbrake.
A momentary silence as the engine cut out.
Carly summoned all of her strength and drew her knees in before kicking both feet as hard as she could at the side of the van over and over. Screaming for help until her throat burned raw.
Someone would hear her.
They had to.
She squinted in the brightness as the door yanked open. She was dragged by her hair.
‘You’re a feisty one,’ a voice said but it didn’t sound angry, more amused. Her blindfold was retied tightly around her eyes. Too tightly. ‘That’s better. Three blind mice, three blind mice,’ he sang.
Carly could feel eyes on her. She clamped her lips together hard as he stretched another piece of tape across her mouth. She wouldn’t cry.
Her breath left her body as she was slung over a shoulder as though she weighed nothing.
She breathed in. Listened. Committing what she could to memory so later she’d be able to tell the police, her parents, everything she knew, for she had to believe there would be a later.
The smell of soil. A farm? The sound of rustling. Leaves?
Inconsequential details that would never make up for her putting the twins in danger.
It was wholly her fault.
The man began to walk, Carly curved over his shoulder. Again a comma, and that thought gave her strength. Not a full stop.
This wasn’t the end.
Chapter Four
Leah
Now
There’s a crackle when I jab the intercom with my finger and before I can speak, there’s the click of the front door