Page 2

TWO

clodagh

AGED ELEVEN

"Clodagh, baby, why don't you go and have fun," Mammy tells me as she takes a seat on the bench. "Your brother is playing. Why don't you?"

I look around the park and see only younger kids playing.

There's no one my age at all. The swing is free on the other side of the park, so I make my way over there, watching as my seven year old brother, Dylan, laughs as he goes down the slide.

It's been a while since we've been out of the house.

The weather has been so bad, and both Dylan and I were sick with a cold, but finally we're outside and don't have to worry about wanting to kill one another.

I hear a deep, slurred voice a while later as I'm swinging on the swing. "Hello, pretty girl."

I glance to my left and see an older man standing there, watching me. His gaze is on my body, and it makes me feel uncomfortable.

I slow my swinging, my feet dragging against the floor. My heart starts to race as I look around for Mammy, but I can't see her from this side of the park. The man takes a step closer, and I feel panic rising in me. I need to get away.

"What's your name, love?" he asks, his gaze focusing on my chest.

I don't answer, remembering what my teachers and parents told me about not talking to strangers. I grip the chains of the swing tighter, my palms growing sweaty.

"Don't be shy now," he says, reaching out a hand toward me.

I jump off the swing, my legs shaky beneath me. "I have to go," I mumble, not meeting his eyes.

As I start to walk away quickly, I hear him call after me, "Wait, don't go yet!"

I break into a run, my heart pounding in my ears. I spot Mammy on the bench where I left her, scrolling through her phone.

"Mammy!" I call out, my voice cracking.

She looks up, her brow furrowing as she sees my panicked face. I throw myself into her arms, trembling.

"What's wrong, Clodagh? What happened?" she asks, wrapping her arms around me protectively.

I bury my face in her shoulder, unable to speak as tears start to fall. Over Mammy's shoulder, I see the man stumble away from the park. He looks back in our direction before disappearing around the corner.

As I try to catch my breath, Mammy strokes my hair, whispering soothing words. "It's alright, love. You're safe now. Can you tell me what happened?"

I pull back slightly, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "There was a man," I begin, my voice shaking. "He came up to the swing and started talking to me. He... he was looking at me funny, Mammy. He kept staring at my chest. I got scared and ran away."

Mammy's face loses all its colour, and she pulls me close again. "Oh, baby, you did the right thing. Clodagh, I'm so proud of you for running away."

Dylan comes running over, his smile wide on his face. "Mammy, did you see me on the monkey bars? I made it all the way across!" His smile fades as he notices me crying. "What's wrong with Clodagh?"

Mammy shakes her head. "Nothing to worry about, love. Clodagh just had a bit of a fright, that's all. I think it's time we headed home now."

As we walk out of the park, Mammy keeps a tight grip on my hand, her eyes scanning the area warily. I can feel her anger and worry, and it only adds to my own unease.

Once we’re home, I don’t feel any safer.

I can't shake the memory of the man's leering face.

Every creak of the house makes me jump. Sitting on the sofa, I pull my blanket up to my chin, wishing I could disappear beneath it.

I hear Mammy and Daddy talking in the kitchen, and I know they're discussing what happened.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will myself to sleep, but the man's voice echoes in my head: "Hello, pretty girl ." I shudder, wondering if I'll ever feel safe in the park again.

* * *

I jolt awake, my heart pounding in my chest. I wonder what’s made me wake. I try to calm my breathing as I glance around the room and freeze. Although the room is dark, I can see a figure by the door. My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the man from the park.

Before I can scream, he clamps a rough hand over my mouth and I see the blade he’s carrying. "Shh, pretty girl," he whispers, his breath hot against my face. "We don't want to wake anyone up, do we?"

I try to struggle, but he's so much stronger than me. Tears stream down my face as he wraps me tightly in my blanket, pinning my arms to my sides. I see dark stains on the knife, and my stomach churns as I realize it's blood.

He lifts me easily, cradling me against his chest like a baby. "We're going on a little trip," he says, his voice sickeningly sweet. "You're going to be my special girl."

As he carries me out of the sitting room, I catch a glimpse of my parents' bedroom door. It's open and the lights are on. I gasp, my body tightening as I see Dylan lying in a pool of blood on the floor, a hand beside him, almost as though it’s reaching for him.

“No,” I cry, realizing that no one is going to save me. No one is coming for me. “What did you do?”

“They were standing in my way,” he growls. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

He steps outside with me still in his arms. I’m panicking, trying to escape, but he’s got me held tightly against him.

A car is waiting, its engine running quietly.

He opens the back door and tosses me inside like a sack of potatoes.

As he slams the door shut, I manage to wiggle an arm free from the blanket.

I pound on the window, screaming as loud as I can, "Help me! Please, someone help me!”

But the car is already moving, and the last bit of hope I had is dashed when no one leaves their home to help me. The man turns a corner away from the estate and I sink down in the seat and begin to sob.

I don't know how long we drive. My throat is raw from screaming, and my eyes burn from crying. I've given up trying to escape—the child locks are on and the man keeps glancing back at me with a look that makes my skin crawl.

Finally, the car slows and turns onto a bumpy dirt road. We come to a stop in front of a small, rundown cabin. My heart sinks as I realize how isolated we are. No one will hear me if I scream.

The man gets out and comes around to my door. As he opens it, I shrink back against the opposite side of the car.

"Come on now, pretty girl," he says, reaching for me. "This is your new home."

I try to fight him off, kicking and scratching, but he's too strong. He pulls me from the car, still wrapped in my blanket, and carries me toward the cabin. The door creaks open, revealing a dark, smelly, derelict room that has a dirty looking sofa in it.

"Welcome home," he whispers in my ear as he steps inside.

The door slams shut behind us, and I know my old life is over. Whatever happens next, I'll never be the same Clodagh again. As he carries me deeper into the cabin, I close my eyes and silently pray for someone, anyone, to find me before it's too late.

“What did you do to my family?” I ask, needing to know what this monster has done. I’m praying they’re alive, but my stomach is twisted, telling me they’re not.

The man's grip on me tightens, his fingers digging painfully into my arms. "You don't need to worry about them anymore," he growls. "They're not your family now. I am."

My stomach lurches at his words and I feel bile rising in my throat. The image of Dylan lying motionless on the floor flashes through my mind, and I can't hold back anymore. I retch, vomiting all over myself and the man's arms.

He curses loudly, dropping me roughly onto a dirty mattress in the corner of the s bedroom of the cabin. There’s only four rooms in the entire place. A sitting room, kitchen, bathroom, and this room. "You little brat!" he shouts, wiping his arms on his shirt. "Look what you've done!"

I curl into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. The reality of what's happened is crashing down on me. My family is gone. I'm alone with this monster. And no one knows where I am.

The man storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I hear the click of a lock, and then his heavy footsteps stomping away.

In the silence that follows, I try to control my breathing, to think clearly. I need to find a way out of here. I need to escape. But as I look around the bare, windowless room, I realize, with growing despair, that there's no way out.

I don't know how long I lie there, shivering in my vomit-soaked blanket, before exhaustion finally pulls me into a fitful sleep. My last conscious thought is a desperate plea: Please, someone find me. Please don't let me die here.