Ava ( Seven years old)
I'm not going home.
Ava realises this as she sits on the floor of what appears to be an empty cell-like room, except the walls are pretty and only the floor is damp.
She tilts her head back against the wall, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she silently hoped that the men who'd brought her here would finally let her go. Although she doubted they would.
It had been over an hour now, and the men who'd taken her were nowhere to be found. They had shoved her into the darkness and left, leaving her with only their warnings of quietness to keep her company.
Then men who'd taken her from her ballet studio reminded her of the men she'd sometimes seen hanging around in her father's office. Her father had called them business associates
