Lost Girl, Found Girl *COMPLETED*

4. He gave you up to keep you safe

"Hey you!" Someone shakes me by the shoulder.

My eyes snap open to someone else's murky green ones. He's so close to me I can feel his breathe. Without knowing what to do I scream. In his face. Loudly. I mean, has he ever heard of personal space? He jumps back, startled.

"Shut up!" He yells immediately after, closing his eyes then putting his hand up to his head. "I have a splitting headache!" He stands up from the chair he was sitting in.

I squint my eyes, scanning the room. I'm in someone's kitchen. I go to stand up but I'm bound to the chair, my arms tied behind me with what looks like a skipping rope. My legs are tied too, just not as securely as my arms. I feel as if I should be panicking right now but I'm more annoyed than anything. There I was, off to meet my dad, and of course this had to happen.

"Who are you?" I groan. "I've met enough creeps already."

This guy has a shaved head and a scar across his left cheek, it's not a fresh scar but it looks newly healed. Pretty dodgy if you ask me.

He doesn't look at me when he talks. "Look, I'm not here to make friends Phoebe, I'm just doing a job for Matty boy here."

"What do you want from me!" I shout then kick his leg.

He swears loudly and the guy who drugged me on the train runs through. When his eyes catch mine he smirks.

"Eric just leave the brat! She'll tell us soon enough."

His voice sends shivers up my spine. But I don't show him that I'm scared. That's never a good idea if you ask me.

"You're the one that drugged me up on the train!" I yell at him accusingly.

"Good to see you too." He laughs.

Eric shoots Matt a look. "You told me nobody would get hurt this time!" Eric says in a strange worried way.

What was that supposed to mean. 'This time'? Had they done this before? Ugh, that's never a good sign, I'm working with guys that already have experience!

"Chill, nobody got hurt." He turns to me. "Besides, the little shit wouldn't tell me the number!"

I let out a low growl of some sort. "I don't know the number! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Eric looks down at me, his head tilted, studying my face. "I don't think she knows what we're talking about Matt." He shakes his head.

"Thank you! Finally someone believes me!" I yell, relieved.

Matt looks furious. "The bank number Phoebe! You know, where you take money out!" He thumps his fist on the wooden table beside me and I flinch.

"What bank number? I don't have a bank account." I screw up my face.

It's true though, I've never had a bank account in my life. I'm the worst for saving up, I usually just bought one of those tin banks that you have to open with a tin opener. Everything starts out well until I see something I want to buy and end up opening the bank. And once it's open you can't close it again, you have to buy a new one and start from the beginning.

"Of course you'd say that if you were stashing millions of pounds in it!" Matt snarls, thinking he knows everything.

Of course, he clearly doesn't...

"I'm not stashing millions of pounds anywhere! This is ridiculous, I'm fifteen! Where does a fifteen year old find millions of pounds?" If my arms weren't tied up I'd probably be flailing them around in some way right now.