My school bag smacked the ground as i ran through the front door, my fingers had frozen outside and I could barely use my key but I'm in now, good thing too. The phones ringing and no one else is home, well mum isn't home: and dad, he's in Indonesia. "Hello" i said rather choked up while trying to calm down our Scottie dog, Percy, with the phone pressed up against my ear using my shoulder to keep it there. "Excuse me sweet heart, is there an adult home?" the patronising voice beckons at me, no, no adult is home and i don’t want to talk. So i just stop the call and hang up. i can't be bothered with tedious people like that today.
Percy’s little eyes dilate as soon as i head towards the kitchen; he ended up tapping on my knees with his front two paws as he bounces up and down with excitement. Such a lucky thing he is, no worries, no cares. Only thoughts are when his dinner will be served and he isn’t even clever enough to know what the time is (you know, he is a dog after all) so that’s not even a thought really. Not like me though, not like anyone. Mum was here this morning; i swear we had breakfast together. Well, i think we did. Or was that yesterday? The days have started to merge together now. I’m not sure what the date is to be honest with you.
As usual, there isn’t any food in the fridge, nor the pantry or freezer or cupboard. no food has been prepped and left for me in the oven, nope. There’s nothing in this high-spec and clinically clean room; that serves no real reason to our family. I rummaged around through our chrome-finish cupboards and couldn't find anything, so now I’ll just be hungry. No, don't sympathise, I’m used to it. Percy on the other hand, wants food. food which i don't possess. My only choice is to go shopping: the joy. I’ll just grab a twenty out of dad's cash he leaves me and head up the road to- *buzz**buzz**buzz* Dad.
My phone's dancing around on the blue marble work top, shaking mentally. or maybe it isn't. Maybe my imagination is going funny because of the sheer adrenalin from my dad calling me. Either way, I’m gone answer. i couldn't press accept fast enough. "Dad, oh my god, haven't spoken to you in ages-" "sh, okay this is going to sound strange but i need you to do exactly what i say. No questions." my breathing quickened and my palms began to clam up "dad, what’s going on?" "No, i said no questions. Just do what i say, okay?" it’s my dad; I’ll do whatever he needs me to. So with that, i took a big gulp and agreed.
"Great. Now, find your suitcase and quickly pack anything essential. No electronics though and especially nothing that can be tracked." he was totally calm, something i wasn’t. i sprinted up the stairs into my bedroom and slid open my wardrobe. i pulled out some jeans, a few tops, my diary and a pen but to be honest i wasn't really fussed what i had, i just needed to hurry up. i could see my suitcase, my small and plain black suitcase and almost ripped off the zip as i opened it. i chucked in the various things i had picked up and took a step back. it was staring at me, it was completely intimidating me and it only made his next words more daunting. "Now, go into mine and your mother's room, look in the bed side table. First draw"
I was shaking at this point "uhhu". i snapped out of the trance the suitcase had forced me into and rose to my feet. i walked as stably as i could manage into their room, so neat and tidy. everything in its place. i clasped the cold glass handle and the draw rolled open, there was only one thing i could see- "you see that blue box?" yes, i did see a blue box. Metal painted blue at least, the paint was scratching off at the sides and around a very large lock. "Well? do you see it or not?" he was impatient, he's never like that. god, something was wrong and i didn't want to know what "yeah, yeah i see it" i mumbled to him as my eyes locked on a photograph of all of us- me mum and dad- at the beach on holiday five years ago. Before his job got like this. Then my train of thought was interrupted by his voice. "Now, put in the code. Your birthday" i put my phone down and used both hands to pick it up, it was cold to the touch but i didn't care. i flicked up the lock and then managed to push the numbers around, 13/08/97: *click*. It’s unlocked. "Done that?" "yes" i heard a sigh from down the phone "there's a piece of paper inside-" he paused, i pulled out the pristine, crisp, white paper "-it has an address on it-" another pause. I turned the paper over to read a clean-cut and typed-out address written in deep navy ink. It wasn’t fresh; how long had it been there? "-there's a taxi waiting for you outside and you need to go there now." "Okay" "but first, you'll need to break your sim card and smash your phone" this is bad. "Why?" not just bad its terrifying. "They might be tracking you, just do as i say" so i didn't ask any more. "Sure dad" "I'll see you soon kido, don't worry." i was trying to be strong, for my dad's sake. But i honestly thought i was about to break down into tears at any moment. "I'm not worried”: a total lie. i heard one last husky breath from down the phone which ended with one last word- "go."
I hung up the phone, i pulled out the sim card and i cut it in half with my mum's nail scissors that had been left on her dressing table. The paper hadn't left my hand as i flew out of their room, down the stairs (two or three steps at a time) and into the kitchen. i chucked my phone into the microwave, set it to high then watched it shake around crazily. i heard painfully loud bang as i stepped up the hallway and as i was just about to leave, one thought came to mind. Percy. i know what my dad would say, 'this is no time to start being sentimental over a dog' but I’m not my dad, obviously. and i love Percy so he's going to go somewhere safe. I'll drop him round next doors, they love dogs. so i picked up Percy and walked next door, Mrs.Paterson opened the door, we exchanged pleasantries- no details, i just said i would be gone a few hours and left her with the dog. she doesn't need to know the truth.
I walked back across the dew-damp grass on our front garden, which was uncharacteristically messy, and sure enough: there was a taxi. A taxi with chrome finished tire rims and midnight-black paint, completely unspoilt. Must have cost a fortune but i knew my dad would do that; spend all the money he could to make me feel better, well it didn't work. I’m still a state. i passed the driver the piece of paper but only once he had shown me his I.D. card, he was from MI5. I could trust him. I hesitated to sit down but soon enough I was sitting in the back of a car being taken to a place that I didn’t know. And i felt horrible.
