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his nose to his top lip. I remember tracing it with my fingertips. Some scars are good.

It’s no big surprise that his body is beautiful too. Lean but strong. Smooth. And he wraps it up in pretty decent clothes. That night he was wearing a white vest, faded old jeans, and battered black Converse All Stars. He’s clearly not much of a colours person – greys, whites and blacks so far. Which is fair enough, but I love love love colours. Purple is good … and green. A green so bright it’s like it’s shouting. I miss green.

So, you might be thinking that Ethan sounds pretty hot. And it even sounds like I want him. I did want him, but the whole abduction thing seems to have put a bit of a damper on our relationship. And I think it’s too early for me to have that syndrome … what’s it called? Where a hostage starts to identify with her captor, falls in love with him, and then joins him on his evil kidnapping/killing/whatever spree. All I’m trying to say is that an impartial observer would think he’s hot as – and I would have to agree.

I can’t work out where he’s from. I don’t think he’s a local boy – he certainly doesn’t look like any of the boys round here (or rather, there – back home, I mean … where AM I?). On Monday night, I asked him where he was from and he said ‘around’, which maybe should have aroused my suspicions. At the time I probably thought he was just appealingly mysterious. Idiot.

Ethan. Perfect boyfriend material. Apart from the tendency to kidnap unstable girls who are too wasted to even realize what’s happening. I can just imagine the lonely-hearts ad:

Tall, dark and handsome man WLTM green-eyed girl. Interests include films, long walks in the rain, Italian food and a just a teensy bit of kidnapping every so often.

Sane girls need not apply.

Things I know about Ethan (not including the whole looking-like-a-Greek-god thing)

1. He drives a newish-looking silver van.

Man in van = obviously dodgy.

2. He doesn’t seem to be your classic slasher-movie psychopath.

3. He’s gone to an awful lot of trouble to make sure that I’m comfortable here. The bed, the bathroom, the delicious food … All unnerving in the extreme.

4. He didn’t choose me. I chose him. I chose to go and sit next to him on the swings. Maybe he knew what he was going to do but hadn’t got around to picking his victim yet. It’s almost like he was the bait – all alone and shining like a beacon of hotness. He reeled me in good and proper.

5. He likes to listen. Not so much with the talking.

6. He hasn’t tried to hurt me. Yet.

7. I don’t actually have a seventh point, but seven is my lucky number and I REALLY could do with some luck right now.

Night night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the strangely alluring psychopath/vampire bite.

day 4

Well, wasn’t I just the bizarrely upbeat little kidnappee yesterday? I reckon that’s what someone who’s been kidnapped should be called. Kidnapper, kidnappee. Makes sense to me. That rhymes.

Not feeling quite so upbeat today.

Why is this happening to me?

Stop thinking. Keep writing. Keep the pen on the paper and move your hand.

I needed a bit (OK, a lot) of Dutch courage before I went through with it. While I was getting ready, I swigged from the bottle of vodka that I keep under my bed. I chose my clothes with care. Just cos you’re going to die, there’s no need to look sloppy. I put on my new jeans, which make my legs look super-long and skinny. I went through practically every top I own, before settling on my trusty old green T-shirt (my lucky green T-shirt – ha!). Shoes were tricky, but I eventually went for comfort with my Adidas shell-toes. Not exactly glamorous, but they added a certain old-school chic. I put on more make-up than was strictly necessary, all the while looking in the mirror thinking, No more eyeliner for me. Last lipgloss I’ll ever wear. Last time I’ll look in this mirror knowing I’ll never be good enough, and things to that effect.

Knife in bag, then good to go.

I tripped down the stairs like a girl without a care in the world. Shouted, ‘I’m off to meet Sal. Don’t wait up!’ to Mum, who was watching telly in the living room. Maybe I should have just popped my head round the