Taken PART ONE- Darkness flooded through the curtains which hung open over the window at the far side of the room. A flashing icon on the computer was the only source of light along with the digitalised red numbers of the alarm clock that stood on the nightstand. It read 3:30 am. My hands lay ridged in my lap, still clutching the letter which had sent me into the motionless state. The letter - despite the fact I’d only read the first sentence - had sent me still for over three hours. I feared the outcome of what would happen if I continued reading. I wasn’t really known for going into shock. I’d never undergone an experience to impact such a state, where hours would pass as if they were minutes. Nobody had come to check on me, but then again, they very rarely did. For all they knew, I could have been dead. I’d often wondered what would happen if they found me dead. They might actually feel a little guilty for ignoring my existence (or at least that’s how it felt). But who am I kidding? They’d no doubt be relieved that they’d no longer have to stay home for me. They wouldn’t have to drop hints every day – the only time they weren’t pretending I didn’t exist – about how I was holding their lives back. About how they wished I’d hurry up and be old enough to get my own apartment. They were the pathetic excuse for parents. Actually, calling them parents would be an insult – they were more like ‘watchers’ or something along those lines. I mean, they sent me to school, provided me with lunch money and as I got older, they’d give me almost anything I’d ask for; a computer, a car. This would make most sixteen-year-old girls happy. But not me. They only purchased these gifts to keep me out of their hair. To keep me out of their lives, really. All I wanted was for them to love me. I’m surprised she didn’t get an abortion as soon as I was created. But here I am. The accident, as they always remind me. The irritating sound of a fly’s ‘buzz’ brought me out of my stream of thought – sending me back into reality. I let my eyes wander the room, and finally down to my lap, where my hands still clasped the letter. I stared at it for a second or so, debating whether to continue reading. My heart didn’t want to hear the rest, but eventually, curiosity got the better of me. As I unfolded it, the paper sliced into my thumb. A deep gash appeared, and blood licked around the corner of the paper. But to my astonishment, the gash disappeared – taking any trace of bleeding with it – and in its place, a thin shiny scar was left on the tip of my thumb. I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t seeing things, after all – I had been awake almost twenty-four hours. But, as I’d feared, in place of what should have been a cut, was the scar. It looked as if the accident should have happened weeks ago. Dazed, I resumed my attempt to continue reading, not sure quite what to make of the strange incident. I sucked in a deep breath before re-reading the first sentence. It said: “By the time you read this, I’ll most likely be dead.” I couldn’t quite place the handwriting in order to interpretate who was sending me such an unusual letter, although the loopy script did look rather similar to my own. As I braced myself for the rest, I felt my heart thudding in my chest. “It’s important you complete this action before time runs out. Please trust me Isabel. My client is waiting for you at the edge of Boundary Wood. Go and seek him, he will take you to your next destination. My client does not intend to hurt or cause you distress in any way. Pack any personal belongings, and leave before dawn. This may seem strange, and I do not blame you for feeling at all weary, but if I’d had more time (and not been occupied by greater matters) I would have come to collect you personally. In the extreme case that I may be alive when you reach my client, then you will be allowed more information. However, all you may know at the moment is that I am your brother. It is no longer safe for you or I – we are in great danger. The time has come that it is dangerous for you to stay where you are, and these people who you call your parents, are going to turn on you very soon. Please do as I say, and do not alert or inform anyone you are gone or where you are going. If we are to meet, I look forward to it. Seth. The letter fluttered out of my grasp and onto the dark oak floor. I just managed to stop myself being eaten up in shock, by reassuring myself that it was probably all just a prank. Even if it wasn’t, who in the world would think that a piece of paper folded in half would be enough to convince me to throw away my #life. It was practically a death threat. Or was it? It kind of fitted that my parents weren’t really my parents. For one – they certainly don’t care for me – not in the way real parents are supposed to care for their kids – never mind love me. Two – I don’t look a thing like them. My pale skin and long blonde waves don’t match my ‘mother’s’ olive tone and dark glossy curtain of hair, nor my ‘father’s’ salt and pepper tufts that I believe were once a dark shade of brown. It seemed almost obvious when I thought it over. And the handwriting on the letter – which was suspiciously like my own – could possibly prove a relation. Although it should not in any way have been enough information to send me out into the wood adjacent to my back yard, searching for a man who was my so-called brother’s client. But it was. I decided to go sooner rather than later, probably so I wouldn’t have time to change my mind. Maybe this was a #life-threatening mistake, but it’s good to be reckless once in a while, isn’t it? I only packed a small messenger bag. I didn’t have many personal items which I’d miss if I was never to see them again. All I took was a change of clothes and some toiletries, not thinking my phone would be of any use, considering I was banned from telling anyone where I was going. By the time I was exiting the suburban, Minnesotan house I’d lived in all my #life, dawn was just starting to break through the dark clouds, which looked as if they were about to burst any second with an downpour of rain. That’s one thing I’d forgotten; a raincoat. However, here was no time to go back inside; the ‘client’ would begin to think I was no longer coming. Wherever it was I was going. As I walked along the edge of the woodland, I couldn’t help but notice the weather was unusually warm for the last day in October. A sense of humidity filled the air – the kind that makes your hair frizz. It hadn’t been like this the day before. There had been warnings of frost and ice on the weather channel. This humidity however, was the exact opposite. Before I could think about the weather issue too much, a black Range Rover came into view. As I quickened my pace – the nerves sank in. What if this was a hoax and someone was here to kidnap me? I pushed all the nervous thoughts aside when a man in a black suit and tie stepped out of the car. For some reason the presence of this man relaxed me to the extent that I rushed to close the distance between us, jogging, in fact. I wondered if this was my brother. I must have had a great smile on my face when I finally reached the man, as he mirrored my expression. Now that I was up close I could tell he was not my brother. This man was about my ‘father’s’ age and had many ageing lines around his eyes. “Isabel. I’m very pleased to see you have accepted the warning” He had a thick, British accent. I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond. “I’m Mr Burns, by the way. It’s good to see you again, Isabel. How old are you now? Sixteen?” Again, I stood, speechless. ‘Good to see you again’ he’d said. Had I already met this ‘Mr Burns’? He obviously sensed my uneasiness as he opened the car door and gestured for me to enter. A million thoughts swarmed through my head at that moment. I could run away and pretend this whole thing never happened. But something told me to stop being such a baby, and that everything I’d experienced in the past few hours was all true. That I was in danger. So I got in the car. My #life was unsettled enough anyway. This wasn't exactly going to make it any worse, was it? We rode in silence for the first ten minutes or so, and then I eventually plucked up the courage to ask the question which had been bothering me since I put down the letter. “Is he alive?” It came out in a choked whisper, not what I had intended it to. At first, Mr Burns gave me a quizzical look and then chuckled. “Ah, you mean Mr Carter? Or – as you know him – Seth. Yes, he made it. In fact we are on our way to see him now.” My face lit up. My brother was alive, and I was going to finally meet him after all these years apart, and me not even knowing he existed. I managed to get a little information about Seth out of Mr Burns. Apparently – he is nineteen and currently residing in London. He was with some sort of protection agency which our parents had assigned to watch out for us when we were young. Seth was adopted by one of the company’s foster families and I was adopted by another. But my ‘parents’ weren’t genuine. As soon as all the paperwork was complete, they’d stolen me out of the country. And this ‘protection agency’ had been searching for me ever since. Whenever I asked for more detail, Mr Burns would say something like: “Oh, I’ve already said too much,” or “You’ll have to ask your brother that.” It frustrated me slightly that he wouldn’t tell me about my own #life, but I could see he was obviously under strict guidelines of how much information he was allowed to share. I sat in the stiff leather car seat and tried to piece together the little facts I had been given and the information in Seth’s letter. Why had he said he’d most likely be dead by the time I’d read it? And what was putting my brother and I in so much danger that, I need to flee to London without telling a single person? “Oh, my! Oh my God!” Cried Mr Burns, waking me from an uneven slumber. Just as I was about to open my eyes to see what was going on, my hand was suddenly grasped and yanked so hard, I thought my arm was about to be pulled out its socket. “It’s already happened,” He continued, frantic. I had no idea what he was on about. As I was about to ask, he put a finger to his lips indicating for me to wait, and pulled out a silver mobile phone. He spoke in a worried voice. “It’s already happened. She’s already undergone the change! This shouldn’t have happened, she’s only sixteen.” He paused for a moment, and then gave me another of his quizzical looks and pulled my arm – which he still held – up in front of my face. “When did this happen?” he asked me in an agitated tone. At first I was confused, but then a dimmed, sparkling light caught my eye. It was coming from the scar on my thumb, which had simultaneously appeared earlier that morning from the deep paper cut which barely showed the sign of bleeding, never mind scabbing over or healing. I’d completely forgotten about it until Mr Burns had mentioned it. “Um, about 3:30 this morning.” I choked out. By the look on his face and his low tone for the rest of the phone call, I could tell something was wrong. Really wrong. I must have drifted back off to sleep again at some point because when Mr Burns woke me, it was dark, and we were in the car park of an airport. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never been on a plane – not that I could recall, anyway. I’d always vacationed in the north of the U.S or around the border of Canada. Probably so my ‘kidnappers/parents’ wouldn’t get caught with me. Neither Mr Burns nor I spoke on the journey to the plane’s departure gate. Whether it was because he thought he’d scared me, or because he was actually scared himself – I could not tell. All I knew was that something unexplainable was happening to me. In the twenty-or-so hours that had passed since my strange incident (or the ‘change’ as Mr Burns had called it) my blonde curls had grown exactly half an inch longer and I’d also grown a fraction of an inch taller – which I should definitely not have been aware of. But along with my freak growth spurt, my senses were becoming extremely acute also. My vision was crystal clear; I could see absolutely every detail – of everything. Also, all sounds and noises became slightly louder too, and I was starting to become aware of new sounds which weren’t normally audible to the human ear. As much as I was completely freaked out, I was also somewhat awed. I had always felt there was something ‘more’ harbouring inside of me, waiting to take over, or escape. This was its way of doing so, I supposed. I wondered if Seth was like this too, maybe this was the reason we were in so much danger. Or maybe it was just me. Maybe I was a freak of nature and we were in danger because of me and my new ‘powers’. The thought haunted me, but I was pulled out of my daydream when a faint whistling noise caught my attention as it got louder and louder. I immediately spun around, and saw a single shining bullet speeding towards me. There was the sound of metal clashing against a marble floor, and then I realised the bullet had hit me. As if to prove its point, a sharp, exploding, fire-like pain flushed through my side. I felt my head hit the ground, just as my vision was cut off. “Oh my Lord! No! No! Isabel, can you hear me?” I heard Mr Burns cry frantically. I desperately wanted to tell him I could, but something was stopping me. Like a wall was being built between me and everyone else in the universe. The last thing I heard was Mr Burns panicked voice, shouting, just before my hearing cut off too, restraining me to a hazy blackness. But I knew I wasn’t dead. Nothing could kill me that easily. Not now I’d undergone the change.