Copyright

Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.

HarperElement

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperElement 2017

FIRST EDITION

© Rosie Lewis 2017

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers

Cover photograph (posed by model) © Images by Tracy/Alamy Stock Photo

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Rosie Lewis asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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Source ISBN: 9780008242800

Ebook Edition © December 2017 ISBN: 9780008242831

Version: 2017-11-14

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

By the same author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

About the Publisher

By the same author

Helpless (e-short)

Trapped

A Small Boy’s Cry (e-short)

Two More Sleeps (e-short)

Betrayed

Unexpected (e-short)

Torn

Taken

Prologue

July 2014

Archie opens his eyes and blinks. For a second he wonders where he is, then he realises and his tummy flips over. Something hard is digging in his side. It feels cold and pointy, like one of his Transformers. There’s something wrong with his back as well. Not an ache exactly, but it feels funny and wrong.

Cold, that’s what it is. He tries rolling over but a pain shoots down his shoulder and his head begins to hurt. It feels as if his skin is stuck to the wooden floor. Where’s his top? He can’t remember taking it off but his brain is fuzzy. He shakes his head and tries to think. If he can just get back to his room, maybe he can work it out. There’s a clinking noise as he tries to roll again. He freezes and holds his breath. As his eyes adjust to the half-light he realises there’s a pile of empty glass bottles wedged between his body and the bed.

He begins to ease himself away but stops suddenly and cocks his head. Someone is snoring, someone close by, and there are other sounds as well. Softer sounds. Like people breathing in and out. How many, he can’t tell. He tries to keep track but all the sounds keep tripping over each other and mixing him up.

If there are just two or three of them he might risk creeping back to his room – he wants to check that Bobbi’s okay – but if there are more and one of them wakes up … no, he can’t chance it. Not after what happened before.

If only he could decide what to do.

And then it starts. A stirring. A swishing noise, then a thud. A wire of fear flashes through his tummy. Strange scary shadows rise above him and he holds his breath, shrinking back into the cold floor.

The shapes move over one another, two, then three, then more. All making a tangled, groaning mess. There’s a strange smell as well. Sweat and booze and something musty that makes his throat burn. Then he hears a woman’s voice. She sounds sad, frightened. His stomach lurches and there’s a vile taste in his mouth. All he wants to do is run back to his room and to Bobbi. With a stab of shame, he realises that he’s too frightened to move.

The shadows and the noises, they make him feel sick, make his tummy roll. Somehow, though, he can’t tear his eyes away. Biting down on his lower lip, silent tears roll down his cheeks.

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