Prologue

                                    

                                          
Harry:
                          
"Harry! Can you run to the store for me honey?" My mother calls from downstairs.
                          
"Sure Mum!" I call back, logging off of my computer and making my way down the stairs.
                          
Fifteen minutes later I pull into the parking lot of the small grocery store near the center of town. The parking lot is empty as I walk inside, which makes sense since it is nearly nine o'clock on a Monday night in January. 
                          
I find the items on my mother's list quickly and check out just as the store is closing. As I'm walking back to the car, I notice a large black van in the parking lot that wasn't there when I went into the store.
                          
Weird..'I think, hurrying to my car. I reach into my front pocket for the keys and as I'm about to unlock the car I hear a small strange noise, like metal scraping against metal.
                          
I realize what it is as suddenly as I feel the object responsible for the noise pressed to my throat, making me still instantly. I feel my curls being roughly grabbed as the man behind me tilts my head back, causing the knife to cut my skin slightly, and making me hiss in pain.
                          
"Make one noise and I slit your throat, Curly, you got it?"
                          
I gulp nervously but I don't dare say anything.
                          
"Good." the man says. And even though I can't see him, I know the son of a bitch is smirking. My eyes narrow to slits and I feel myself getting angry. Before I can stop myself the words slip out.
                          
"Fuck you, you bastard." I hiss.
                          
"Tsk,tsk. Feisty aren't you? But what did I say about making a noise, boy?"
                          
With that my head is roughly smashed into the door of my car. I rebound off of it and land in a heap on the ground, the pain in my temple searing and unbearable. I think I may even be bleeding, because I feel something wet trickling down the side of my face. I grunt in pain and curl in on myself as I feel a few kicks to my ribs.
                          
The last thing I remember before I pass out is the feeling of being lifted and thrown into what I know must be the back of the black van. And then my eye lids get heavy as everything spins around me, and I give in to the blackness.