Taken

Chapter1

I was running. Twigs and brambles scraped my face causing blood to run down as I ran through the dense overgrowth of the woods. The moon was shinning brightly down upon me, only just barely illuminating the path in front of me. My heart seemed to swell up inside of me as I glanced behind every so often while I continued to charge through the overgrowth. My ears strained to hear the footsteps that I know will be following me through this nightmare. There they were. The stomp, stomp, stomp of the heavy footsteps, slapping down upon the soggy ground, continulously increasing speed until I could feel him breathing down my neck. Suddenly a hard hand grabbed hold of my wrist, dragging me back to the tall figure I loathed. "Hello Jacky" he whispered in my ear and all I could do was scream...

A sudden pain forced me to open my eyes and I found myself sprawled on my bedroom floor with my head throbbing like hell. "Ow, ow ow" I muttered, rubbing my sore forehead. "Jackqueline, what in God's name was that bang" my mother screamed at me from downstairs. "Nothing" I yelled back. "Well it sure in hell was not just nothing missy" my mum replied, still screaming her head off. "Maybe you should stop sticking your nose in when it's not wanted missy" I screamed back. "Don't you dare back-chat your mother" She yelled back. "Yeah, like thats gonna happen" I muttered to myself.

Hi, just if your wondering this is the usaul way me and my mum have a conversation. Through screaming our heads off until someone is screamed into submission. It's like a competion really. Sometimes I win, sometimes she wins. It varies from time to time, It's been that way ever since my dad left when I was five. Something just snapped inside mum when she saw the note in the morning. She never snapped back. Anyway lets get a few things straightned out before we fully get to know each other. First off don't you dare call me Jacqueline, it's Jacky from here on. Mum just calls me Jacqueline because she insists that 'I named you Jacqueline when you was born and I'm calling you Jacqueline. Not the name you've given yourself!' She is so annoying these days. You know sometimes I just don't listen to her, I just watch her mouth go up and down. Anyway back to the name thing. If you dare call me Jackqueline I swear to God that I will kick, punch and pull hair if necessary. I suppose your also curious as too what I look like. Well maybe you should stop sticking your nose in and stick it up someones... Sorry, I have a temper. Always have, always will. So anyway, I have short  chestnut brown hair with deep sea green eyes. Full lips, average height and quite thin. I suppose that I'm quite pretty then, not that I'm vain of anything.

So is that enough to stop asking me questions??? Oh no I bet you want to know about that stupid dream as well, don't you! God, people these days... Fine I'll tell you! About a couple times a week I always have that exact same dream. The exact dream that I have been having for years! I know, freaky right. Especially that guy in it, he is so creepy. Right enough about me, it seems like I'm telling a random stranger my whole lifestory! So, tell me about yourself. Actually you know what, I don't really care who you are. You are just some person who has just bothered to read this for some reason. Right it's official! I am done talking to you!

"Come on down for breakfast Jacqueline, or you'll be late for school" my mum called, still screeching.

 "Alright, alright I'm coming" I yelled back whilst combing my hair. I then yanked on a pair of jeans, a top and a hoodie then charged downstairs to the kitchen where mum was waiting. "Your late" she snapped at me as I strolled past to the toast which awaited me.

"Hello to you too" I replied cooly as I took a bite out of my toast, which was burnt by the way. It was like her way of punishing me because she knows I love my toast.

"This is just unacceptable Jacqueline" mum nagged. I swallowed my last piece of burnt toast and answered,

"Says the woman who speaks to her only child via high pitched noises that sounds like words." Mum started to turn a bright shade of anger which I refer too as the danger zone.

"You little" but she was cut short as a familar horn beeped from the driveway.

"That'll be Simon" I say and dashed into the hallway, kicked on my shoes, grabbed my bag and legged it out the door. Once I had entered Simon's range rover I screamed at him "go, go, go." Simon, knowing the drill, soon pushed on the accelerator and we zoomed off. He sighed at me and spoke in that quiet way of his "what have you done this time?"

I thought this was just going to be another average day for me at another average school. But boy, was I wrong.

Chapter2

"So have you heard" asked Simon, his chocolate coloured eyes twinkling.

"Heard what" I answered curiously. Nothing ever gets him this excited these days, unless... "Whats the news" I said with a sigh.

"Hey, hey missy don't be rude, i'm only updating you on the newest news!" he answered with a cheeky grin.

"You know what the sad part is, Simon dear" I commented. "That actually ryhmed."

"OMG it does. Maybe I should become a poet. Or maybe I should start rhyming everthing I say!" he exclaimed, while braking at a red light.

"Maybe not"

"Ah come on, don't you think I'd be a brilliant poet?" he asks.

"No I really don't" I replied. "By the way, you don't even like poetry."

"No, thats not true" he says. "I hate poetry that isn't written by moi as whatever I write is obviously pure genius."