Disclaimer: Alex Rider belongs to Anthony Horowitz, not me. The poem is 'We Remember Your Childhood Well' and is the property of Carol Ann Duffy.

'The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist'

(Charles Bauldaire)

Don't be stupid, he told himself firmly, swinging his legs off the side of his bed and shaking off the foreboding feeling. He had no time for ridiculous premonitions or anything else when there were very real dangers chasing after him.

But still, the clinging, anxious feeling hung over him as he lethargically prepared for school. It was like carrying a lead weight around with him and even Ben noticed the difference.

"You alright?" he asked in concern over breakfast. "Bad night?"

Alex wondered what to tell him, and settled on being vague. There was no need to worry Ben just because he had a 'bad feeling' about the day. "Something like that," he replied, shrugging. He didn't look up from his coffee.

"They'll be home soon, hopefully," Ben said in reassurance, obviously assuming that Alex was still worried about the absence of K Unit. And he was, truly, but he didn't think this leaden worry pressing down on his chest was anything to do with his unit – or, at least, he hoped not. He suspected it was somewhat closer to home. It's nothing, he tried to tell himself. You're getting worked up for no reason whatsoever. But trying to ignore the feeling was harder than he would've guessed.

Alex nodded and said, "I know." Both of them had been trying to remain positive, despite knowing the odds of one of them getting hurt in that godforsaken, war-torn country. He stood up. "I need to go," he said, changing the subject completely. A day at school would in theory take his mind off things – particularly if Laura was there. She was confusing enough to hold his interest for a short time even if he would never conceive of taking it further, both because he couldn't put her in danger like that and because he thought of her as simply a friend. An odd one, yes, but a friend nevertheless.

Ben stood up, stretching, and carried his bowl over to the side. "Let me just grab my car keys," he said absently.

"Can I not walk?" Alex asked, knowing as he spoke that it was in vain. It didn't matter whether he had agents following him or not, Ben was not letting anything happen to him. It should make him feel comforted, secure, like nothing could touch him- but truly he could not shake off the feeling that no matter what, today was the day. It was stupid, so bloody freaking stupid, but he couldn't get the thought out of his head.

Ben laughed slightly. "No," he said bluntly. "I don't mind driving you."

Alex huffed, but decided it wasn't worth the fight. "Let's go then."

He followed Ben into the hallway and, like so many mornings before, grabbed his school bag and shoes. He debated whether to run upstairs and get his homework but couldn't be bothered. He didn't need to do the homework; he'd been told by Ben and the school to take it easy for these last two weeks of term, but he'd chosen to attempt it anyway. They weren't going to blame him if he hadn't gotten it done, although his classmates might be even more pissed off at him. He could see their point of view; they worked bloody hard to get everything done and be prepared for their GCSE year whilst he just waltzed in, didn't do homework, hardly turned up for school, and didn't even get in trouble for it. He'd hate himself too if he was in their position.

Ben shut the door behind them and Alex looked around, trying to spot the elusive MI6 men guarding their house. He couldn't see anyone, although he did notice a lovely new camera across the road focused on their front garden. He smiled cheekily at it, and saw Ben grin at him when the man realised what he was doing.

"Think Blunt's watching?" the older man whispered.

"I hope so," Alex replied as he flipped his middle finger at the camera. Ben swatted at his hand but couldn't help laughing.

"Honestly," he said, opening the car door and climbing in. "You are such a teenager."

"I am a teenager," Alex answered, dumping his bag down in front of him and pulling his seat belt across him.

"Sometimes I forget," Ben said quietly. The jokey atmosphere froze. Alex turned his head away, unwilling to enter the serious conversation that he knew Ben was leading up to.

Ben sighed, obviously recognizing the gesture for what it was. "I do worry about you, Alex," he said, only half concentrating on the road.

"I know," Alex said shortly.

"I wish you'd tell me what was going on in that meeting yesterday," Ben said, a note of frustration in his voice.

Alex wished he'd let it go. "I was in a bad mood, Blunt pissed me off, and I ended up losing it slightly. End of story."

"What did he do to piss you off?" Ben asked. "You seemed to be speaking in code. All that stuff about your 'situation'. What does that mean?"

"It means," Alex snapped back, fed up with the questioning, "that Blunt is an arse and was just reminding me how crappy my situation is."

Ben sighed again, sounding like an old man. Alex felt slightly guilty at his short-temperedness, but the man never knew when to let it go. "Why do you never trust me?" he muttered, so quietly that Alex figured he wasn't mean to have heard. The guilty feeling rose again, but they pulled into the side road by the school before he could work up the courage to say anything.

"Bye," he said roughly, shouldering his bag and stepping out of the car.

"See you later," Ben said, obviously trying not to let any frustration leak into his voice.

Alex paused before he shut the door. The worry crept back up again; his heart felt heavy and he suddenly couldn't bear to lose sight of Ben. Ben, in his mind, equalled safety.

"I-" he started to say, then stopped. He had no idea how to vocalise what was going through his head. "I'll see you at four," he said lamely, stepping back from the car.

"Have fun at school, ok?" Ben answered, an easy smile playing around his lips. He sounded so parental that Alex couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry – he'd never had anyone really act like it before.

"I will," he replied, eventually shutting the car door. Ben watched him through the windows as he turned and made his way towards the school. He looked back once and waved. Dread accosted him as Ben pulled away. Don't leave me here, he wanted to say.

"Morning Alex," Laura greeted him cheerfully as she wandered into the classroom and sat next to him. He smiled genuinely at her; like always, he had been the first in the room, heading straight there when he got into school. Mr Davis knew him well by now and always turned up to form time at least ten minutes early so Alex could go straight in. The man never spoke about it but Alex was grateful for the understanding the teacher displayed.

"Morning," he replied, the leaden weight lessening only slightly at her smile.

"Bad night?" she said sympathetically, after looking at him closely. He snorted. What was it with people and being too bloody observant for their own good?

"What?" she asked in defence, hearing his snort.

"Nothing," he said, "you're just not the first person to ask me that today."

"Might be because you look like you're going to the gallows," she said absently, pulling out her chemistry book. "Done the homework?" she asked.

Alex didn't look at her. "No," he answered.

"Huh," she sniffed. "Do mine then, save me the trouble."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "I wasn't able to do my own, so now I have to do yours?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, passing her homework over to him expectantly.

"No," he said simply, pushing the homework back.

"Yes," she replied, slapping the work down in front of him.

"No,"

"Yes,"

"No-" Alex started again, then sighed in frustration. "Are we seriously doing this?"

"Doing what?" she asked him, feigning ignorance.

He picked up the homework and put it on the empty desk in the next row in front of him. "Go away," he told her.

"No," she immediately stated.

"Oh for God's sake you drive me mad," he exclaimed, but couldn't help the smile escaping.

"Cheered you up though, didn't I?" she sung happily, snatching back her homework from where he'd dumped it and lurching from the seat. She waved and shuffled back to the front of the room where she sat on top of desk next to a giggly girl who Alex had yet to learn her name. Why she couldn't sit on the chair he didn't know; she probably just liked the attention.

"Right, you lot, be quiet," Mr Davis said from the front of the classroom. "Laura, off the table," he added with a sigh.

"But it's so much more comfortable, sir!" she protested, although she did as he asked anyway.

"Well then, you obviously need some more padding on your backside if you can't sit on the chair," the teacher returned smartly, garnering a laugh from the class. "Right, register," he said, shuffling some papers around on the desk and letting out a triumphant 'ha!' when he found it. He read through the names in a monotonous voice, even faking a snore every now and then. The class, as had become tradition, fell silent when Alex's name was reached and he answered 'yes, sir' quietly. The attention was unnerving.

"Done," Mr Davis said with a smile, slapping the register down on his desk. "Do what you will now, I don't care," he told them, turning away to log onto the computer. People immediately began chatting, the noise level rapidly increasing.

"Christ," Mr Davis snapped, although his lips were twitching. "Are you lot incapable of doing anything without screaming at each other?"

The class looked at each other. Alex, by himself at the back, didn't even bother paying attention.

"Not really, sir, no," one smart-arse boy replied. "We're teenagers, it's what we do."

The rage that coursed through Alex had no real origin, except perhaps the nonchalance the boy spoke about being loud. For Alex, silence was a necessity; one small noise could give him – and his freedom – away. He turned his head away, desperately trying not to show his emotions to anyone else and attempting to quell the anger. He hated this, hated that he couldn't be normal, that he couldn't act like every other teenager had a bloody right to act.

"Not every teenager acts like you," Mr Davis said, his voice still light-hearted. But Alex detected a slight flickering of his eyes over to him and he deliberately angled his body towards the wall. Mr Davis might not know what was going on in his life, but he had noticed how it was affecting him.

"All the normal ones do, sir," the boy replied, and Alex most definitely did see the look the boy shot at him. Seemed like the rumours surrounding him had reached the year below, then.

"And what defines normal then, Luke?"

"Seriously, sir?" A girl interrupted. "Do we have to do the whole philosophical thing at eight-thirty in the morning?"

Alex thoroughly agreed. Philosophy had its place, yes, but not this early when frankly it hurt to think.

"Honestly, you lot," Mr Davis grinned. "Fine, then, go off to your first lesson. The bell's about to go."

His prediction rang true just that moment, and Alex winced at the loud clatter. The talking started up again as everyone gathered up their things. He grabbed his bag, pulled out his phone, and resigned himself to another full day of lessons.

- Save me – he texted Tom.

- Haha, unlucky sod – came the reply.

- Screw you – Alex sent back quickly, realising that the sympathy he'd been looking for wouldn't be coming from Tom. Though, quite honestly, he was amazed Tom was awake considering he had an extended summer holiday after his GCSEs.

- Love you too honey – Tom texted back, and Alex shook his head at the utter ridiculousness of his friend.

- The feeling's not mutual -

- Hey! – Tom sent back immediately.

- Whatever, g2g –Alex texted, putting the phone back into his pocket as he walked into his first lesson of the day. As the English teacher called for everyone to settle down, he rubbed his face with his hands and tried to focus his mind. It didn't work; no matter what, he couldn't seem to concentrate. Every movement was a potential sniper, every noise a gunshot. Paranoia filled his entire body until he couldn't help but flinch whenever someone spoke.

"Alex, are you paying attention?" the teacher barked at him, and Alex tried, and failed, to refocus on the lesson.

"Yes miss," he promised, despite not knowing what the lesson had been about.

"Care to explain your views on Duffy's use of metaphors in this poem?" the teacher asked, raising a sheet at the front of the class. He looked around, but couldn't even find the copy of the poem on his desk.

"Um, I don't think I have the sheet, miss," he said quietly, flushing when the class laughed.

"We are ten minutes into the lesson, Alex, and you've only just realised you don't have the sheet?"

"Um, yes? Sorry miss," he replied sheepishly, looking down at the desk. Murmurs started up around him.

What an idiot.

Rider's such a freak.

"See me after class, ok, Alex?" the teacher said in resignation, laying a copy of the poem in front of him. "Read through this quickly and I'll come back to you in one minute."

Alex nodded, scanning the poem.

"Right, Melissa, what do you think the main theme of the poem is?" the teacher asked, heading back to the front of the classroom. The girl quickly began spouting off the normal rubbish and Alex tried to concentrate on the words before him.

'What you recall are impressions; we have the facts. We called the tune.

The secret police of your childhood were older and wiser than you, bigger

than you. Call back the sound of their voices. Boom. Boom. Boom'

Alex tried to repress a shiver. The words swam in his head; the fourth stanza captivated him. 'The secret police of your childhood' . . . 'Nobody left the skidmarks of sin on your soul'.

"Alex?" the teacher interrupted his thoughts. "Have you got an answer?"

Alex racked his brains for the question. "Can you repeat the question?" he asked in embarrassment.

"What do you think of Duffy's use of metaphors?" said the teacher, raising her voice over the muttering off the class. "Why do you think they are used?"

"Um, there's a lot of violent metaphors?" he answered, a question in his voice. English wasn't his strong point.

"Good," the teacher accepted. "An example?"

"Duffy talks about the 'secret police' which were always known for being violent," Alex replied, warming to his theme. "Secret police were a feature of dictatorships such as the USSR and so it implies that the parents acted like dictators."

"Nice idea," the teacher said in approval, then turned to the rest of the class. "What other examples of violence do we have in the poem?" she asked. "Yes, Harry?"

"The repetition of the word 'Boom' is very violent – it sounds like a gunshot."

Alex flinched, hearing gunshots echoing around his head. This discussion was doing nothing for his mental state.

'secret police' 'Boom. Boom. Boom.'

Stop it, he told himself. Get a hold of yourself. He dropped his eyes to the paper in front of him and ignored the rest of the class. The teacher, thank God, didn't call on him again that lesson.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the period, he traipsed up to the front of the classroom. The teacher looked up from her desk and smiled at him.

"Take a seat," she said gently. "I'll write a note for your next lesson."

He did as she asked, despite knowing that he really couldn't afford to miss any more of his classes, note or not.

"You seem to be really struggling, Alex," she said, looking at him seriously. "Is it just English you're finding hard, or is it just school in general? I could find you some help."

"No, no, it's fine, miss," he struggled to reassure her. The last thing he wanted was some do-gooder teacher getting entangled in his life. "I'm just very tired today; I'll concentrate better tomorrow."

"That's not really the point," she answered. "I've been concerned about you since you first started. You struggle to pay attention and seem to be very anxious."

Alex lowered his head. "I'm alright, miss," he said again. "I'm getting a tutor over the summer who will catch me up to speed."

"It's not just the work you've missed that you'll need help with, Alex," she continued. "I really think you need to work on your concentration."

"I will," he answered, but she didn't seem to listen.

"I think you need to talk to someone," she said in a soft tone, as if she thought he'd freak out at her. Which was, he supposed, very tempting. Who was she to butt her nose into his business?

She's concerned, a small voice whispered in his mind. It's her job to care about her students.

"I have a psychiatrist," he said in a low tone, hating the way his voice cracked slightly over the admission. "To, you know, help me over my uncle's death and everything."

"I'm glad," she said, smiling slightly in relief. "Is it helping?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, "but it's going to take a while for me to-to fully get over it and stuff."

"Of course," she replied, pulling a piece of paper over to her. "Well, I'm happy that you're getting some help, Alex."

He nodded jerkily, grateful that she seemed to have finished bothering him.

"If you ever need anything though," the teacher continued. "Don't hesitate to come to me, alright?"

He nodded again, feeling somewhat like one of those annoying nodding dogs. "Thanks, miss."

She passed the note over to him and he glanced down. Her name was Miss Bruce. Interesting.

"Have a good day," she said, standing up and collecting her books together. He did the same, following her out of the classroom and muttering a goodbye as he turned the opposite direction. He checked his timetable quickly. History. Oh, joy.

The rest of the morning passed relatively without incident. He skipped lunch, unwilling to fight the paranoia in the packed lunch hall. Instead, he spent his break and lunch in the library, finding solace in the silence. It didn't stop the flinches, but it reduced the frequency of the flashbacks floating in front of his mind. Today was a bad day, he decided. Maybe he should call Ben. No, he told himself, don't be weak.

It wasn't until double Chemistry that he had any issues. He sat next to Laura in the lesson; nerves making him jiggle his foot. The teacher had it in for him; the man had taken it as a personal insult that Alex had missed so many of his lessons. He didn't believe Alex deserved any special treatment at all, and wouldn't be impressed that Alex hadn't done the homework, despite being told by the headmaster that he wasn't expected to this term.

"Right, homework on the desk," the man called as soon as he walked into the classroom. The man was strict, gruff, and you didn't want to get on his bad side. However Alex secretly admired the man; he might not be nice, but he was a fantastic teacher. He took no nonsense but managed to make his lessons interesting enough that no one grew bored. Alex had learnt a lot from him.

The man walked around the room, collecting homework as he went. No one spoke. When he reached Alex and Laura, she handed over a roughly scribbled piece of work that she'd obviously done at lunch. He frowned, but said nothing.

"Homework, Rider?" he asked, an eyebrow raised when he saw nothing on the desk.

"I haven't done it, sir," Alex replied calmly, knowing that no apologies would improve his situation.

"Why not?" the man asked dangerously.

"I haven't had a chance, sir," Alex said, meeting the man's eyes. A Chemistry teacher no longer had the power to frighten him.

"You and I are going to have issues," the teacher stated. "I want the homework in for tomorrow morning, understood? Anymore problems and it'll be detention."

"Yes sir," Alex answered, resigning himself to another late night struggling with homework. He didn't think it was worth the effort to complain about the man to the headmaster. It would only make the situation worse.

"Ok," the man called to the rest of the class. "Textbooks out, we're going to make some notes on acidity today."

"He really hates you," Laura said, smirking. Alex nodded, unwilling to reply and risk further trouble. He grabbed his bag and searched for his textbook. Shit, he thought desperately when he couldn't find it. He searched harder, pulling out all of his books just to make sure. Where the hell was it? A sudden image of his desk in his room filled his head, and he could just picture the book there. He'd been using it last night, and had blatantly forgotten to put it in his bag. Bloody hell.

"Everyone got their textbook open?" the teacher asked, scanning the room. He stopped when he saw Alex sitting there, staring at the table in an attempt not to be noticed. The man sighed. "Where's your textbook, Rider?"

"At home, sir, sorry," Alex replied, hearing Laura snort slightly next to him. He didn't need her sympathetic nudge to realise that the teacher was going to kill him.

"Detention tomorrow after school," the man said shortly. "Share with Allen for today."

Laura placed her book in front of both of them and Alex realised that Allen must be her surname. "Thanks," he muttered.

She shrugged with a smile, and seemed to sense that he wanted to concentrate on the lesson. Neither spoke.

When the bell rang, Alex mechanically gathered his things together and stuffed them in his bag. It was the end of the day and nothing bad had yet happened. Told you, he huffed at his mind, only registering a moment afterwards that he was talking to himself. He strode out of the classroom and headed straight to the side road where Ben was waiting. He slid into the car, dumping his bag on the floor.

"How was your day?" Ben asked as he pulled away from the school.

"Crap."

"What happened?" Ben questioned sympathetically, glancing at him.

"My English teacher was interfering, my chemistry teacher gave me detention, and I couldn't concentrate all day."

"Ahh," Ben said in understanding. "Want to talk about it?"

"No," Alex replied sullenly.

"Right," Ben answered, accepting his response. "Takeaway tonight?"

"I'm going to get fat," Alex complained with a smile, grateful for the change of subject.

"We'll get Indian," Ben promised. "Isn't the spice supposed to be healthy or something?"

"Yeah, not sure that's really the point, Ben," Alex laughed. "I don't care, anyway. Indian's good."

"I'll give them a call when we get home. Any work to do tonight?"

"Chemistry," Alex shrugged. "Not too much, really."

"Good," Ben grinned. "We can have a relaxing evening then."

And they did. The leaden weight hanging over Alex gradually seemed to ease throughout the evening, and with Ben's help, he managed to get his chemistry homework done. The man was understandably furious when he realised the cause of his detention, but Alex persuaded him not to pursue it with the school.

"The man doesn't like me, but he's a good teacher," Alex said, and Ben let it go.

That's not to say the evening was perfect, of course it wasn't. Both of them flinched when they heard voices outside the house; every creak of the wooden floorboards made them jump. But it was alright, they sought reassurance from each other. It was nice to know, too, that Blunt was taking their safety seriously and that agents were outside the house. The subtly hidden panic buttons were a comfort and Alex couldn't resist running his hands over them every so often to check they hadn't disappeared. Ben didn't say anything about it, but Alex had caught him inspecting the one in the hall earlier and figured he understood.

They both headed off to bed at around eleven o'clock, muttering quick goodnights to each other. Alex chucked his pyjamas on and slipped under the duvet. The dread had almost completely disappeared by now and he cursed himself for ever being stupid enough to listen to a 'bad feeling'. He fell gently into sleep, hearing comforting snores from Ben's room next door.

Secret police of your childhood

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Skidmarks of sin

Laid you wide open for hell

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The next day dawned in a cloudy sky and Alex woke abruptly from sleep at six in the morning, the bloody poem from English circling around in his head. He hadn't had a particularly bad nightmare, thankfully, and he was relatively alert unlike the day before. He pulled on his school uniform and headed downstairs. Ben wasn't awake yet and so he grabbed some bread from the freezer and stuck it in the toaster. He idly cleaned up the mess from the takeaway last night and switched on the radio. The dread from yesterday had gone.

Ben didn't appear until seven when he stumbled downstairs in a daze.

"Bad night?" Alex asked, passing him a plate of toast. The irony of the reversal of their positions wasn't lost on either of them.

"Not great," Ben sighed, grabbing a knife and spreading some butter on his toast. "Thanks," he muttered, gesturing to the plate.

"No problem," Alex said, joining him at the table.

"Why are you up so early?"

"Woke up early," Alex shrugged. Ben seemed to have no reply, wolfing down his food and then traipsing upstairs for a shower. Alex plonked himself down in front of the TV. This day was already looking better than the previous.

He arrived at school early enough to track down his chemistry teacher and hand in his homework, apologising for his behaviour. The teacher huffed and reminded him about the detention that evening, but Alex thought he could detect a slight softening in the man's attitude.

Form went quickly, although Laura didn't come and speak to him. She wasn't exactly a consistent friend, but he guessed that suited him better anyway. It meant she wouldn't be upset when he disappeared for days or weeks at a time; she'd always have someone else. To be honest, that may be precisely why she behaved like that.

He paid attention in all his lessons, even sticking his hand up to answer questions once in a while. His biology teacher was so impressed that he stopped him after the lesson.

"I'm pleased to see you join in more," the man said, smiling at him.

Alex shrugged. "I want to take my education seriously, sir, and I find biology very interesting." It was only a half-lie, he was being careful about his education, but he had to admit to himself that the biological make-up of proteins and polypeptides didn't fascinate him all that much.

"Make sure you keep it up!" his teacher told him.

The sentiment was echoed from most of his teachers. His English teacher shot him a few concerned looks, perhaps wondering about his abrupt turn-around, but she didn't ask to speak to him. He hurried from English, his last lesson of the day, just to make sure she didn't want another heart-to-heart. Once a good distance away, he ambled towards the chemistry rooms for detention, wondering what he would be made to do.

"Ahh, Rider," the teacher looked up when he knocked on the open door. "Come in and sit down."

Alex did as he was told, sitting at a desk on the front row.

"Since you're so far behind, I thought you could use this opportunity to do some catch-up work," the man told him. "Here's your list of work for today." He handed over a piece of paper and turned back to his marking.

Alex looked down at the paper and groaned internally. The first task was to read and make notes on pages 31-36, then answer questions on the subject, then make more notes, then do an activity on it, then . . . Christ, it was a lot of work. He pulled out his textbook and exercise book and started.

To be fair to the teacher, it may have been a lot of work but Alex did feel it had been beneficial at the end of the hour detention. He had learnt and consolidated much of the topic they'd been studying.

"Right, it's five to five, so you can go," the teacher said at last, glancing at his watch. "I trust we won't have to do this again?"

"No sir," Alex replied, gathering his books together. He muttered a quick goodbye and left the classroom. He headed for the back gate quickly, finding the silence of the school eerie. Plenty of teachers were still in school, but none of them were wandering the corridors.

He was nearly at the back of the school where he'd arranged to meet Ben when he realised that something was wrong. He stood still, trying to figure out what had bothered him, when he heard the slight rustling of clothes again. A teacher, he told himself, but couldn't quite forget the fact that no teacher would have a reason to hide. He slid into a fighting stance, his feet wide and his body balanced. He dumped his bag on the floor, looking around him.

There!

A flash of a blue uniform – a cleaner's – and Alex spun to look. The man leaped at him, trying to grab him and keep him still. Obviously not a cleaner, Alex deduced, sighing, and sprang into action. He twisted his body away, jabbing a punch at him. When that failed to connect, he launched a strong kick, feeling the confirming shudder that vibrated up his leg at the impact. The man grunted, but the fight continued. They fought hard; the man was obviously well trained, but then again, so was Alex. The only question in his mind was the position of the teachers. There were classrooms nearby; shouldn't they hear the noises?

Oh, Tuesday. Staff meeting for the maths teachers whose block this was. His attackers had been doing some recon then, unless it was just an unfortunate coincidence. Then again, the cleaner's uniform suggested they had infiltrated the school. It was so bloody typical of Blunt to forget that the other side could spy as well – where was his protection at school?

Alex scowled as a well-timed fist caught him on the chin and he renewed his efforts. Both were panting, aching, and Alex could feel a throbbing in his leg. He was pretty sure this was the kind of heavy exercise his physiotherapist didn't want him doing.

Just when Alex thought he was gaining the upper hand, a body pressed against his from behind and the attacker in front of him smirked. A cloth covered his face and he struggled desperately, trying not to breathe in. Again, for Christ's sake. Why did all the terrorists in this world have to use freaking chloroform?

He gasped in a frantic breath, knowing he was spelling his own destruction as he did so, but unable to prevent it. The chemical seeped into his brain, and he spiralled down into the blackness.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

We remember your childhood well.

A/N: Well, here you go, another chapter :) I'm so sorry there's another cliff-hanger. I'm hoping another chapter will appear within a couple of weeks. I don't know what you think about the kidnapping/plausibility. To be honest, I knew he had to be taken at some point this chapter but I truly had no idea how I was going to make it happen until I wrote it! I have never done any sort of fighting so I apologise for the vagueness concerning the action.

Again, if you have any questions or whatever regarding English schooling, or anything I have written, feel free to ask! I promise I don't bite :) (mostly).

The poem, as it says in the disclaimer, is 'We Remember Your Childhood Well' by Carol Ann Duffy. She is a fantastic poet and I highly recommend you go read the rest of the poem (the text in here is mainly from stanza 4). It is a disturbing but fascinating poem, just like most of hers! Trust me, it would be worth your time.

Hope you enjoyed this and please review!

Dreams