The light of day

My time in the papers

Bet you I wasn't in their long.
It's every child's dream isn't it, to be famous. I know it was mine.
My story can't have been interesting, after all there wasn't much for them to write about. Nobody knew anything because I was an idiot and didn't tell anyone where I was going and, more importantly, who I was meeting up with; to be honest I wasn't 100% sure who'd be there waiting for me in our arranged spot.
All they'd have to go on was what I'd told my parents, which was that I was going to the cinema with a friend and would be home by no later than 4 o'clock. Quite amusing actually that they believed me as I'm not a good liar, dad had always said that he knew when I was lying, I always go red and stammer, never finishing what story I was trying to pull off. Maybe it was because he wasn't really paying much attention that morning or maybe it was because I'd been brainwashed that much into thinking that I was going to be okay, that I'd genuinely thought of HIM as a friend and so didn't technically class what I was doing a lying. Either way it was my fault, not HIS and not dad's. After all, I was then one who actually thought the person behind the screen was one not to be weary of.
A couple of months after my kidnapping, I had the thought of my laptop and the messages that were on there. Hours and hours of conversation, teeming with evidence and leads. Reading them would give the police enough evidence to lock THEM all away and possibly start them on their way to discovering my hiding place. However, I soon learnt that hoping was hopeless and that these people are clever. I knew that it'd be easy to find and hack my laptop, the police wouldn't struggle with that part. The thing that hit me hard in the stomach was that it would be easy for my captures to do the same. Pressing a few buttons would erase all messages sent and received, leaving the CSI with nothing and me trapped in this place for a very, very long time.
Therefore that is why the report on my case wouldn't have been worth printing, the police care but the papers don't, they want money and publishing a sob story with no content wouldn't have been a sell out case. Again these people are clever and know how this works by now, they know that my case will have been wrapping fish and chips within a month of my absence from home.
They know what they're doing and they're doing it well, after all, no one has turned up for these other people down here.