Soulmates (32 page)

The worst bit of a bad dream is that moment when you’ve woken up and think it’s still real. And this nightmare was refusing to shift.

I was lying on an uncomfortable bed attached to the wall. I kept sighing, turning over and trying to wake myself up. I wanted to discover I was actually in my warm bed at home, snuggled under my purple duvet cover, Mum downstairs making brekkie, and a text waiting to be read on my phone from Noah, telling me he loved me.

But the dream wouldn’t shatter. Whenever I opened my eyes to force myself awake, it wasn’t my bedroom I saw. It was some kind of holding cell. There was a sink and toilet in the corner and a teeny tiny window casting a teeny tiny square of light on the wall. My waist stung. I lifted my unfamiliar top and found a scab forming. Where did I get that? Was there a staple? I vaguely remembered a staple. My head was thudding dully – similar to a red-wine-induced hangover. My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert had moved there. There was a beaker of water on the floor next to me but I didn’t dare drink it.

I tried to remember how I’d got here and it hurt my head. There was the gig. And then running off with Noah in the rain. When did that happen? Earlier today? Days ago? I had no idea. I recalled his flat, the candles and the sofa.

Noah… Where was he?

And then I remembered – the door being knocked in, the men, them taking him. Screaming.

And nothing.

Panic bubbled its way through my intestines. Where had they taken Noah? I looked around my odd little room, trying to work out where I was, why I was here. No clues. I didn’t even know how long I’d been unconscious. All I had was the physical throbbing in my stomach, signalling that something dreadful had happened.

I closed my eyes and prayed to every God I’d ever learned about in RE GCSE that sleep would come and take this away.

I woke again from whatever miserable unconsciousness my body had allowed me to fall back into. The square of light on the wall had gone, the only indication it was night. I lay on my back and tried not to let my brain free-fall into panic. I breathed in and out, resting my hands on my chest, and tried to work out what to do. Ten million thoughts rushed into my head. Where was I? What had happened? Was I in danger? Would I ever get out? Was I going to be killed? Would I ever see my parents again? Friends again? Noah again?

Then that familiar feeling of suffocation smacked me. I tried to keep breathing but was only inhaling stale oxygen. I attempted a scream but only a gasp escaped, making me panic further. There was no one here to help, no friends, no doctors. I was going to suffocate to death in this strange room, alone. I inhaled again but still nothing. My throat burned and my vision blurred.

Fight it
, I told myself, but my body had taken over. I began to choke. Fire coursed up my throat and I felt tears run down my cheeks, hot and wet.

I tried to scream, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. My body failed me and, once more, the blackness claimed me.

I came to when I felt a squeezing under my armpit, but my vision was too blurred to see anything.

There were voices I didn’t recognize.

“Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure. She hit her head pretty hard when she fell off the bed.”

“You were supposed to be watching her.”

“She was asleep! I only went for a piss. I come back and she’s having some kind of fit.”

“You’re not supposed to leave her. Dr. Beaumont said this could happen. She’s in withdrawal.”

My throat was burning again.

“Watch out, she’s going to blow.”

I tipped my head forward, heaved, and vomited onto the concrete floor. Someone was stroking my back but it wasn’t Lizzie, and it definitely wasn’t Noah. I began to cry. Tears slid down my face, joining the mess I’d made on the floor.

“Hey, kid. Are you okay?”

Too scared to reply, I just continued crying.

“I think she’s done. Christ, it stinks.”

“Go get something to clean it up. And get Rain while you’re at it. He’ll know what to do.”

Rain? Was it raining?

I felt another tug and was lifted onto the bed. I curled up foetus-style, whimpering, with a foul taste in my mouth.

I could hear the breathing of the person who’d stayed. He didn’t try to engage me in conversation yet he did sit on the end of my bed. I curled up further so our bodies weren’t touching.

Footsteps.

I heard someone enter the room.

There was a voice. American. “Did she have a withdrawal fit?”

How did they know?

The person sitting on my bed answered. “Is that what it was?”

“You were told to look out for the signs. What was she doing beforehand?” The American voice sounded angry. I didn’t know whether to be reassured by this. If he was concerned for my welfare then maybe they weren’t going to kill me. But if not that, then why was I here?

“Nothing, I promise. She was asleep one minute, twitching about the next.”

“You can go now. I’ll deal with this.”

The person got off my bed and left. I curled my legs further up under me.

“Poppy?”

The American knew my name. I ducked my head into my arms, trying to hide my face.

“Poppy? Are you okay?”

Of course I wasn’t okay. I’d been kidnapped – probably by this random American. Why kidnap someone and then be nice to them? Was he trying to get me to have that Stockholm syndrome thingy?

I felt my bed creak and figured he must’ve sat on it too.

“Poppy. I know you’re frightened. I just want you to know that we’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

I muttered under my breath.

“What’s that?”

I kept my eyes closed but spoke. “That’s exactly what you
would
say if you were planning to hurt me. You’re just trying to calm me down.”

“That’s not true.”

I didn’t believe him.

“Poppy? Do you mind opening your eyes? I’m here to help you.”

I didn’t want to. But then again, it was the only way to figure out what was going on.

Very slowly, I opened them and let my strange prison come into focus. On the end of my bed was a peculiar-looking person. He was wearing a lab coat over a sloppy pair of jeans and jumper. He had long hair and was wearing one of those wooden beaded necklaces that boys who pretend to surf wear. A bit like the one Noah was wearing. Noah…

“Hello, Poppy.”

I death-glared him.

“I’m Rain.”

“Where am I? Where are my parents? Do they know I’m here?”

He held out his hands. “Hang on, that’s a lot of questions all at once. I bet more than anything you’re wondering why you’re here?”

I figured he wasn’t a threat, yet, and struggled up into a seated position. “Are you going to tell me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Unfortunately no, I can’t tell you. But Dr. Beaumont wants to speak to you and she’ll explain everything.”

“Are you going to kill me?” I thought I might as well ask. Find out sooner rather than later.

Rain looked shocked. “God no. Of course not. Did you honestly think…?”

He broke off. “Look. You’re safe. And your boyfriend is here and he’s safe as well.”

Noah? He was here? My heart started to thud.

“Let me see him,” I said, a quiver in my voice.

Another head shake. “I’m afraid that’s not possible right now.”

Noah was here! Here? I had to see him. What were they doing to him? The raw panic re-emerged. More bile rose in my throat.

“Let me see him!” I yelled. “I have to see him!”

The man looked flustered now. “I told you that isn’t possible.”

The panic turned into rage.

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME SEE HIM!”

My breath caught and my vision blurred again. Noah. I needed him. He would make this go away. I needed to hold him, to have him hold me. To stroke my hair and cup my face and tell me it was all a dream and soon we’d wake up in his light-drenched bedroom and laugh at my silly nightmare.

Although, it was becoming increasingly obvious this wasn’t a nightmare.

“Noah!” I screamed.

“Shh, Poppy. Don’t get yourself wound up.”

“Noah! Noah? Noah. Noah. Noah.”

My heart sped up to full-whack. I felt light-headed.

“Poppy?”

“Noah Noah Noah Noah Noah…”

And I fell once more into nothingness, welcoming it this time.

I woke up to whisperings.

“This is worse than I ever thought it would be.” It was Rain again.

“What do you mean?”

“The connection. It’s too strong. We should’ve intervened weeks ago.”

A pregnant silence.

I kept my eyes closed and listened.

“Look at her, she’s a mess. One attack after another. She won’t stop screaming his name in her sleep. And he is just as bad.” Rain was talking about Noah! I tried to control my instinctive reaction, desperate not to alert them to the fact I was awake. “He’s completely retreated into himself, barely spoken, only to ask if she was safe and if he could see her. When he was told he couldn’t, he curled up on the bed and hasn’t moved since. They’re both in a state, Anita! How can we expect them to live normal lives when—”

The other voice cut him off. I didn’t know this voice. Female. I didn’t like it.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m just worried about them.”

“You need to stop worrying. Remember the threat your life was under yesterday? Have you forgotten already?”

Silence.

“No.”

“Good. Now it’s time to wake this star-crossed lover.”

They meant me. I pretended I was still unconscious.

I could feel her standing over my bed.

“Right, Poppy, up you get. I know you’re not really sleeping.”

I kept my eyes closed.

“These theatrics aren’t going to help. I need to talk to you. We can either do this the easy way, with you cooperating, or we can do it through force. It’s up to you, honey.”

Her voice sounded breezy, but I could detect the evil underneath.

Reluctantly I opened my eyes and surveyed my kidnapper.

She was unexpectedly pretty. Tall, thin, designer glasses. Her hair was scraped back laboriously into a tight bun. She wasn’t smiling.

“That’s better. Are you coming for a little chat?”

I just stared back, half frightened-rabbit, half stark-raving-angry.

“Good. Now, I’m afraid we’re going to have to handcuff you.”

She registered the shock on my face.

“Just for our own personal safety. It’s merely procedure.”

Their safety? They were scared I would hurt them? I was the one who’d been kidnapped, sedated and locked up.

I held out my hands, deciding I’d be difficult once I was out of this damned cell.

Rain took a pair of cuffs from his coat pocket and clasped them over my wrists. I stood up.

“Follow me then.”

My legs felt weak. Partly from fear, partly because I hadn’t used them for who knew how long? My cell opened out onto a small corridor. I looked round frantically for a hint of Noah but couldn’t see him anywhere. The lady held up a pass at a security door, it beeped and slid open to reveal another long corridor. I followed them through.

The place was like an international space station. Whatever this operation was, it had money. And technology, judging from the eyeball-scanner that opened the doors. We didn’t come across any other people, which was weird. Somehow it didn’t seem like a natural lack of people, but rather an artificially enforced closure, like the building had been deliberately cleared for me.

We stopped walking when we reached a small white door.

“We’re here,” the lady said.

They led me inside, un-handcuffed me and gestured for me to sit. It was a small room. Nothing particularly fancy about it, just a table with three chairs. They sat opposite me. There was a plate of sandwiches on the table and a glass of what looked like banana milk. I examined the plate. Hungry as I was, could I trust it?

“You should eat,” the lady said. “It’s Marmite sandwiches and banana milk. Your favourite.”

I had no idea how they knew this but it made me feel sick.

“And no, it’s not poisoned,” she said, guessing my thoughts. “As my colleague, Rain, told you earlier, we’re not here to hurt you.”

My stomach growled, like it could sense the food nearby. I tentatively picked up a sandwich and nibbled on the corner. I swallowed. Nothing happened. I took another small bite. And another. Then I took a sip of banana milk and waited. Still nothing. I took another sip.

Soon the plate was empty. The lady looked pleased.

“Good, good,” she murmured.

I stared back at her.

“Why am I here?” I asked. The food had helped me regain my courage.

“Why don’t we start with introductions?” she said. “Hi, Poppy. I’m Dr. Anita Beaumont, and this is my assistant, Mr. Rain Hamilton.”

I ignored her. “Why am I here?”

She ignored me in return. “Now,” she continued, “we’ve been aware of you for a very long time, although you might not have been aware of us—”

I raised my voice. “WHY AM I HERE?” I kicked my chair back as I stood up. “Do my parents know I’m here? Are they okay? Where’s Noah? What have you done with him? What right do you have to imprison me here? You’re not the police.”