Page 1 of Deadmen's Captive

Prologue

PAIGE, AGE 14

Iwished we hadn’t walked so fast. We’d reached my house already, and I would have loved to have just kept walking right past it. I could have said that I suppose, but I was afraid it would seem strange to him, and I didn’t know him well enough yet to say I didn’t want to go home. This was the third time he’d walked me home this week, and I didn’t want him thinking I was strange. It was nice to have a friend.

"Hey, Paige," he said, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Yes, Ben." My voice came out small and I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear as the wind whipped it across my face.

"Uh, so I was thinking..." He looked up at me through a fringe of dark hair, his eyes hesitant but hopeful.

"Yeah?" I could feel my heart picking up speed.

"Would you... maybe wanna go see a film with me? This Saturday night?" His cheeks flushed and my heart skipped a beat.

A movie. With Ben. I‘d never wanted anything more in my life. I’d liked him for ages, but I didn’t even realise he knew my name. When he’d started walking me home, I barely dared hope for anything other than occasional company, but this was a date. He was asking me on a date. Excitement filled me, only to be instantly smothered by the idea of asking my Mum. She would never let me go. She’d go mad at me even asking. But the idea of sitting next to Ben in the dim light of the cinema, sharing a bucket of popcorn, chatting about the film afterwards… It was too tempting. And I was certain Mum was going to another one of her charity events on Saturday night. Dad wouldn’t notice if I snuck out. He’d probably be at the pub anyway. Maybe, just maybe, I could slip out unnoticed, spend the evening with Ben, and be back before Mum got home. She’d never even know.

"I'd like that," I managed to say, surprised at how steady my voice sounded despite the fact that my heart was pounding. "I'd really like that."

"Great!" He beamed, relief washing over his features, and I felt warm at the thought that he’d been nervous about asking me. "Can I get your number?"

I hesitated,not wanting to admit to being different to every other kid my age. "I don't have a phone."

"Okay, no problem. We can just meet there, then? At seven? We can choose a film when we get there."

“That sounds perfect,” I said, pushing away the thought that I’d somehow have to find some money to pay for the ticket. That was a tomorrow problem. “I’ll see you Saturday then.”

"Can't wait," Ben said. He moved closer, smiling down at me, warm brown eyes looking into mine. He reached out and took my hand, warm fingers lacing with my own cold ones. I looked up at him, my cheeks flushing at the nearness of him.

“Paige, I was going to wait till Saturday night, but…”

“But what?”

He bit his lip, his eyes dropping away for a second. “I really like you, Paige. Can I kiss you?”

I nodded, unable to speak as my heart felt like it had leapt into my throat.

He leaned in hesitantly, and I wondered if he had kissed anyone before. It would be nice if I was his first kiss too. His lips brushed over mine, warm and soft, and I wondered if he could hear the way my heart hammered in my chest. It seemed to be over almost immediately, but I could still feel the warmth of his mouth, and I smiled shyly up at him.

"See you Saturday," he said.

"Saturday," I managed to say.

He squeezed my hand before letting it go, then walked back the way we came.

I floated towards the house, my steps lighter than air, and my smile was wide as I pushed open the front door.

"Paige."

The world crashed down with that one word. Her voice, ice-cold, sliced through my euphoria. I stepped in, my gaze lifting to meet hers. She stood there staring at me, arms crossed, her long false nails tapping on her designer jacket. Her blonde hair, an identical shade to mine, fell in an expensive cut, whereas mine she just trimmed with the kitchen scissors when it got too long. Her makeup, jewellery, everything about her was perfect, except for the long thin disfiguring scar that ran from the outer corner of her right eye to the corner of her mouth. She’d got it in an accident, she’d told me once, before she’d smacked me for asking personal questions.

"Mum," I stuttered, the word catching in my throat.

"You should have been home five minutes ago. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing, just talking with a friend." My heart pounded as I looked up at her.

"A friend," she said. Her eyes narrowed, and I knew. She had seen everything.

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