I Wanna Save You

Chapter 1

•Chapter One•

Hi. My name is Ivy Katrina Rose. I live in Canada. Ontario, to be exact. This is my story of how I was kidnapped by none other than: One Direction.

***

My alarm clock goes off. Groaning, I feel around for the switch, find it and turn the alarm off. I slide my legs to the edge of the bed and get up groggily. I drag my feet to the kitchen and glance at the time.

7:45.

I turn back to my cereal, then whip my head back, staring disbelievingly at the clock. 7:45!? My bus is supposed to arrive at 7:55!

Leaving my bowl and cereal box on the counter, I dash to my room, trying to find an outfit. I pick a plain gray t-shirt, a navy blue hoodie and black jeans.

I run to the bathroom, trying to brush the enormous tangle that is my hair. I manage, my chocolate brown curls flowing down my back. I then pull it into a ponytail. I grab my tooth brush, glob some mint tooth paste on and begin to brush as quickly as humanly possible. I spit, then rinse my mouth out and begin to floss. Once I'm done with the bathroom, I check the time.

7:52.

I pack my bag, zipping it up. I find my bright purple jacket, put it on and then slip into my pair of worn out running shoes.

"Bye M-" I begin, then stop. I was about to say bye to my parents. They flew to Florida this morning at 5 am.

I shake my head, then yank the door open. I close it gently behind me, locking it. Then, I walk up my lane way to wait for the bus. It's already headed down my road. The bus slows once the driver sees me running frantically to catch it. Good thing the driver likes me.

***

I flop down on a couch. School was boring, as usual. I pull out my homework, which is math, when I hear a noise.

I freeze. I'm always paranoid that kidnappers will hide away in my house whenever my parents leave to go somewhere and I'm stuck in the house alone. But that's normal thirteen-year-old paranoia, right?

I listen intently, but I hear nothing else. Relaxing slightly, I pull out my iPod and begin to play my music. I don't put headphones in, since I have none, so it's blasting out loud. I lower the volume a tiny bit, then get to work on my math, which is due tomorrow.

Question 1: Plot triangle ABC on the grid below. A ( 0,0), B (0,3), C ( -2, 3).

I yawn, lazily drawing the triangle and moving on to Question 2. Then, I hear a crash and I know it's not my usual paranoia kicking in. Someone (besides me, of course) is in my house.

I randomly grab something hard. I glance down to see that it's a baseball bat from when my dad and I used to go to the baseball diamond and play. I smile, despite my situation, then focus intently. The crash came from the living room. I slowly approach it, even though I know that's not a good idea. But what can I say? I'm curious.

I peek my head around the door frame and see two figures, both wearing black onesies with the hoods up. It looks like one of them, the shorter one, knocked over the tiny table beside the couch. The other one is scolding the short one.

"How many times did I tell you that you have to be quiet?" the person hisses. I can tell from their voice that they're male, and he has a British accent. I've always loved British people.

"I'm sorry Bradford Bad Boi," the shorter one says. He's male too, but with an Irish accent.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and react instinctively. I spin around and smash my baseball bat into their head. They fall to the ground, groaning. They're wearing a black onesie, too.