12.54 AM

My mum says monsters don’t exist. But there is one standing over my bed.

The monster has a dark outside and a dark inside as if it’s been drawn with the blackest black crayon. It smells of dirty laundry and dead flowers.

I pull my Superman cover over my head. If only I was as strong as Clark Kent. I take a big breath and pretend to dive into a pool. I can hold my breath for a looong time. An hour. Sometimes, two.

The house makes funny noises in the storm. Not funny-funny. Spooky funny. The floor creaks. The walls whine. The window rattles as if the angry neighbour is banging on it.

The monster lifts the cover, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Wakey-wakey, Sun! I want the light to tickle my belly. And the hairy man to sing the call to prayer. And my mum to open the curtains and let the colours in.

Sharp nails drag me out of bed. ‘Shh, we’re going on an adventure,’ the monster says. The voice is wrong, like a salty cherry or a dry ocean.

I want to scream, but my tongue is frozen. I’m cold. The monster’s breath is hot, but it only makes me colder.

As the monster carries me down the stairs,

I wave goodbye to my favourite things. My dinosaurs. My cars. My mum. I reach for her bedroom door, but I only catch her perfume. My mum is always there for me. Why isn’t she there for me tonight?

I tell my head to be clever and my heart to be brave.

Then, I disappear into the dark.

Six months before the abduction

Cara made a terrible spy.

When she raised her binoculars towards her new neighbours’ house, her hands shook like palm leaves in a sandstorm. She bumped into the window and nearly poked out her eyes.

For the love of God.

She was a stay-at-home mum, not some secret agent. Her skills included preparing snacks around the clock and applying plasters to ouchies, not running covert operations. Mind you, she also excelled at hide-and-seek, sharpening blades and scrubbing away bloodstains.

Still no sign of her neighbours.

Cara checked her notepad, where she’d recorded the couple’s comings and goings. Times, movements, habits. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t figure out the family’s routine. Fadi often came home late. But Éva? Éva should have been here.