AUDREY
He sat before me, the whisps of ginger in his brown hair glinting like copper under the light. His eyes shone and his smile was contagious. His happiness radiated off him in waves, with me on the receiving end. His face was so familiar and unchanging, the same face I saw thirteen years ago, in that alleyway. The face of a gang leader, the face of my protector and former bodyguard.
We sat in a cafe, my parents sipping their coffee across from my sister who was currently shoving a brownie into her face. Unlike Margo, a teacup sat in front of me, a plate with a scone to go with it. While my sister ravished that brownie, my parents waited, watching me like the night terrors that haunted my dreams.
They waited to strike, to point out any imperfections to what should be perfect manners and etiquette. This, like many others, was part of my training. Training to ready me as the next heir of the Parkinson-Evans corporation. I had to perfect my image as well as my knowledge.
'Hone your knowledge and image into a blade, to slash through the enemies, and into an impenetrable wall so the enemies cannot destroy you.' That's what my teacher, Julian, told me. It was the same thing he told my father when he taught him.
"I wanna go now, daddy I'm bored." She whined, my mother stepping in to wipe away the crumbs.
"There's an arcade nearby." His voice was gruff. The only times I heard my father's voice was when he talked to Margo (on the rare occasions when I was there) and when he shouted at me for making a mistake or not being good enough.
"The one where we met?" My mother piped, her eyes wide as she gazed at my father with hope.
It was a foreign thing for me to see my father in normal clothes instead of a business suit. It was even more foreign to see him happy, as he was now, smiling and nodding cheerfully to my mother, who had let out an excited squeal.
We finished off our drinks and began to leave, me in tow. As we began to make our way there I watched the happy family two steps in front of me, smiling and laughing. It was my eighth birthday today.
I don't know if they noticed. Don't know if they cared. Normally, I would be in my room or at my lessons, when the clock struck two, one of the staff would come to me with a bag. It would have a small gift in it, from my sister and my mother.
I was shaken out of my thoughts when a hand snaked around my waist, another around my mouth. I was yanked back, as the person holding me ran. I was held in a tight grip as I was pulled into the car, where two more people sat.
"Drive, now!" A female voice hissed, her voice like venom to my ears.
The car sped off, the only indication I was gone being the revving of the engine and the blaring of the radio to drown out my muffled screams. I felt the tears begin to fall, trailing down my cheeks, and down her hands.
"The brat is crying now. Hurry up, her tears are ruining my tan." She complains, removing her hand from my waist momentarily to slap me hard, then pinning my waist down once again.
We ended up at an apartment block, a building of brick and steel. They dragged me in and into the elevator. No front desk? They must not have them in the city.
Who would see me? Would my family know I was missing? How can I get out?
To say I was handling this well would be a lie. My cheeks and the collar of my dress were soaked with tears, and soon, they would soak the piece of cloth nearing my face. I began wiggling, writhing in panic and distress.
"Stay still you little piece of shit! No one wants you." She screamed. I took in her appearance after she slapped me again, successfully binding the cloth to my face.
She was tall and thin. Her long legs accentuated by the blood-red heels and the short blood-red dress that clung to her curves. Her golden hair shone in the sunlight that peeked through the blinds. She was beautiful, like a model in one of Margo's posters or magazines. She was beautiful, but she was a bitch. I knew this as the corners of her blood-red lips turn up, edging me to protest, proud of her victory. She strutted over to a nearby chair, sitting down gracefully. Observing the room and the men around us. She picked up a remote on the table beside her, clicking a button.
I jumped at the sound of a crash and the growl that followed. "That bastard. I would have thought it would have reached the news by now. Tell me little Audrey, does your daddy not love you enough to look for you? Or does he just not care?" She laughed angrily, her eyes filled with hate.
"Why does she get him? Why can't I? He met her at a commoner arcade. A commoner arcade! Then he breaks up with me and falls in love with her." Her voice was hoarse, a song of resentment flowed from her lips.
"Is this necessary Serena?" One of the males dared to ask.
"Stay out of it. Just do what I hired you to do, or can you not even do that right?" She spat. I felt sorry for the man who asked, felt sorry he didn't have a different job, maybe he could have avoided meeting her if he did.
She stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind us, making us all jump.
A few minutes pass by and I could feel a grip on the side of my cheap plastic chair. I was pulled around to face whoever these men were. I met the faces of two, very ordinary-looking men. They both dressed in casual clothes, guilt written all over their faces.
"Look, we're really sorry about this." The first man apologizes.
"Yeah, we need the money. We would never ever do this but she's offering us big bucks and we need it." The second added. I must have had a curious look on my face because the first one sighed.
"My mother is in hospital, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and I need the money for chemotherapy. My family isn't well off, we're barely managing to pay the bills."
Then the second man, "My wife abandoned me and took everything with her, leaving me homeless. I need money to get back on my feet."
I nodded my head in understanding, I had learnt about these types of people in my training, the types of people in the world. The second man reached behind me and removed the cloth.
Without letting them do anything I began to speak, "I may only be eight, but I'll be taking over my father's company soon. I'm sure you know who I am. I could offer you jobs with a steady, reasonable income. The Parkinson-Evans corporation needs many different types of people for many different types of jobs."
They blinked at me, obviously not expecting my curt response. They looked at each other, then back at me.
"But you're only eight. Yes, you speak like an adult but you're only eight. You couldn't possibly offer us anything." The first man responds.
"Yes, I am only eight but I can assure you, I am training to take over the company five years from now. If you could wait three years, I can have you applied for a job at my personal office, two years after that you will have received steady payments for going through training and you will begin working for me."
They contemplated it for a while. I couldn't risk losing their hope, everything I offered is true but I needed them to accept it and set me free.
"Can we trust you?" The first one spoke again.
I nodded, "I need your names."
"How do we know you won't go to the police?" The second one interrupts.
"You have my word. Give me the name of the woman, I will give her name to the police, but not yours. An elites word is definite." They eventually nodded and began to untie my bonds. They hurried me to the elevator in hopes of getting me out before Serena Hudson returned.
As we got to the lobby, through the glass, we saw a black, sleek car pull up.
"Shit!" Bailey (the second one) swore.
"She's back? Already? Run, we'll pretend to chase after you. Go!" Terrence (the first one) shoved me forward.
And so I did. How she wasn't caught in those heels only God knows, but I ran, ran faster than those heels could possibly match.
"Get her! Don't let her out of your sight!" She screeched, jabbing a finger in my direction.
I ran and ran. I got more exercise in those five minutes than the average child got. I passed shops and houses on unfamiliar streets. I didn't know where I was. I sprinted through the main city and into an alleyway. They ran past me, genuinely not seeing where I went.
I was panting, sweating and crying. I fell onto my hands and knees, shaking from the terror that seeped through my bones. The grovel crunched beside me. Through my glassy eyes, I looked up, looked up at a man who towered over me. His face held no emotion. A shiver went down my spine as he crouched down to my level.
His head snapped up at the shouts from Terrence and Bailey, as they began to pass the second time. He grabbed me and pulled me into a building through a side door, setting me gently on a couch. He left the room for a few minutes before returning with a blanket in his hand.
"Are you okay?" His voice was hoarse and quiet as if he weren't used to using it.
"I don't know," I whispered, as he wrapped my shaking body in the blanket.
"What happened? I understand if you don't want to talk about it." He pulled the edge of the blanket tighter at the front, adjusting it.
"I think, no, I know. I was kidnapped."
"By who?" He asked
"I don't know. A Serena? I'm sure if you looked her up on the internet you can find her." I answered shakily.
"Just stay here, I'm going to phone the police an-"
"No!" I interrupted, flinging a hand out, "No, please. I know my address, I just need some sort of transportation. I promise I will pay you back I just need to get home. I know my mother's cell phone number., I rambled, I knew I would get into serious trouble if the police got involved. Despite being elites, the Parkinson family kept to themselves. The media only knows the basic information, our names, our ages and what events we will attend (but usually after we attend them.)
I could see the conflict in his eyes. A minute passed by before he sighed heavily. "Alright, I'll let you call her." He stood tall, his soaring height towering over me, "but first I'm going to show you some defensive manoeuvres." He turned and began to leave, only turning around when he realised I wasn't following. "What's wrong?"
I observed him from the sofa where I sat, "Why are you helping me? You could have kept me here and asked for a large ransom fee."
"I wouldn't say that, I could change my mind." He stroked his beard, pretending to consider it. He looked at me and panicked, I must have looked like I was going to start sobbing, "I'm joking. Oh crap, I shouldn't have said that. This is not the right time for jokes. I'm sorry." He gushed as he rushed over and kneeled before me.
"The truth is, my own daughter was taken from me a long time ago and I never got her back. She had the same dark hair as yours and she had the brightest green eyes that would watch me with awe as I made her a bouquet of flowers." His voice was quiet and full of sadness.
" A bouquet of flowers?" I questioned, trying to lighten the mood.
He chuckled lightly, a twinkle in his eye, "yes. I worked in a flower shop at the time. It was weird for the leader of a gang but I enjoyed it." I then understood the tattoo he revealed on his back, a bright, glowing phoenix (I recognised it from the second Harry Potter movie that I watched last year). The flames around it seemed to emit power as they licked his skin.
"Now, come on." He beckoned me with a wave of his hand.
"Where to?" I furrowed my brows in confusion.
"Training. You need to learn how to defend yourself."
And so I rose to my feet and followed him.