SPIES AND TRAITORS

Maddie Parker, a 16 year old girl who was born into a family of spies. She finally goes to school, meets her best friend Alice and her crush Jason but can she tell her friends the truth?
And what would the consequences be?

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24. 24.

I open my eyes and feel the cold harsh breathe of wind on my face, darkness still edging my vision. I go to bring my arms to my face but all they do is scrape against the rough concrete. I notice that I am now standing and that my legs are separated but tied to either side of the pole by the knee and I do a quick check over before I confirm that I'm not bleeding anywhere, just very bruised. My cheeks are numb from the cold and I feel like I’ve been standing out here for hours before Mark finally comes out, he doesn’t say anything until finally I ask the question that I’ve been dreading. “What are you going to do to me?” My voice shaky and hoarse, he continues to stare at me with a dark, terrifying expression before finally speaking.

“I haven’t decided yet. Jasper, bring the food.” Mark yells into the house via the open door. Mean Toad, whose name I now know is Jasper walks carefully down the steps and out into the open garden. He’s holding a tray of crackers and cheese and a glass almost as small as a shot glass filled with a liquid that looks like water, subconsciously my arms move forward and Mark tuts disappointedly, “I can't have you moving. I told you to tie her up so she was unable to move not so that she was attached to the pole with 90% freedom, you idiot. You are dismissed.” He says walking towards me, I swallow uneasily and he proceeds to full body wrap me in the duct tape, ripping it off when he gets to the second layer near my neck. He then moves onto my forehead taping that in place so I can no longer look round. The only parts of my body that aren’t sealed in a duct tape cocoon are my neck and face. He then feeds me the crackers and cheese, half of it breaking onto the floor around my feet. He then shoves the drink down my throat and puts the cloth back into my mouth.

“No, no please I’ll stay quiet just don’t gag me again. Please, I'm begging you.” I say just before he shoves it in, cutting off my protests. He then adds a few layers of duct tape over the top that gets caught and pulls on my hair as he wraps it around my mouth. I look up at him begging with my eyes not to do this to me. The drink makes me dizzy and nauseous and I begin to think he’s either drugging me or making me drink alcohol. Alcohol is a drink idiot.

Shut up you can't call me an idiot. You're nothing more than a voice inside my head.

I’m you.

No you're not.

Yes I am. I'm your deepest darkest thoughts coming to the surface as your sanity is stripped away.

Hey! I am perfectly sane!

Says the girl arguing with something that isn’t even real,

You started it.

Did not

Did too…

“Don’t worry, Maddie. You deserve this. I’ll see you soon.” He says taking a picture of me bound, “That can go to Jason.” He adds going back inside and slamming the double-glazed, glass doors with a key from a chain around his neck. I stand there unable to move for hours looking at the same spot on the same wall. When night comes I start shivering. Duct tape doesn’t make a very good insulator; I’ll cross that off my list of things to make a blanket out of. Moving my eyes upwards I try to find stars and count them until the sun comes up. I used to do that back home; whenever I couldn’t sleep I would sit on the windowsill and count the stars. I continue to do this for another 2 nights (3 in total), my arms and legs are numb and my neck and shoulders still. I’m hungry, tired, dirty and pretty sure I’ve been here for 2 months now.

I’m woken from a painful dream by an even more painful reality. Mark had pulled off the duct tape round my mouth and removed the gag and is pouring the same drink down my throat. It’s cloudy colour and burns my throat; it’s also a larger glass than before. “What is that?” I ask coughing when he puts the now empty glass on the floor next to me.

“That is nothing to concern you with, my darling.” He practically sings. Someone’s in a chirpy mood and it’s definitely not me.

“Fine, how long have I been out here?” I ask my stomach tightening at the lack of food.

“You’ve been tied to this pole a week. 3 days since I sent the picture to Jason and you’ve been here a total of 2 and ½ months.” He says filling me in on all the blanks, well, most of them anyway. 

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