You're just dreaming, I told myself.

Noah's facial expressions, the fear in his eyes, his perfect mouth opened up into a wide O, looked like they were made of plasticine. He was being restrained by the strange men in his flat.

I smiled.

And then sleep came and I succumbed to the darkness.

At first Rain thought the place was on fire. There were flames everywhere and it was burning hot. Then he realized it was candles. They were everywhere, on every table. The room stank.

Wow. This is pretty romantic stuff for teenagers, he thought.

The couple, understandably, looked somewhere between shell-shocked and petrified. The girl wouldn't stop screaming. When the officers tried to tear them apart, she launched herself at her boyfriend and screamed harder.

"You can't take him! You can't take him!"

We can. We will. We have to.

Rain felt sorry for her.

She wouldn't calm down so they fired a pacifier at her. Within seconds, she was unconscious, her body flopped to one side.

Her boyfriend started screaming and attacking the officers, but he was far too scrawny to make any impact.

The soldiers shot a pacifier into him too and calm descended.

Anita entered and looked round, taking in the candles and two unconscious teenagers on the sofa.

"Well, isn't this romantic?" she said, before she burst out laughing.

They secured the area. Knocked on a few neighbours' doors, told them a lie about the young boy running a massive underground drugs operation. Bewildered, they nodded, taking it in, excited about telling their friends over cups of coffee the next day.

Rain extinguished the candles one by one. The room began to smell like the moment after a birthday cake's candles have been blown out, with all the wishes floating away in the smoke.

There was one left alight on the coffee table next to the girl. Rain bent down to blow it out but was distracted by her face. She looked peaceful at first glance there was even a little smile on her face. But, as he leaned in nearer, he saw one tear glistening on her cheek. The initial relief he'd felt that his life was no longer in danger was replaced with another emotion, a nastier one.

Guilt.

He sat on the floor and really looked at her. She was a pretty little thing. Her green dress was crumpled and one of the thin straps had fallen off her shoulder. He gently pulled it back up for her and blew out the last candle.

He sensed Anita standing behind him.

"They make quite the pretty pair, don't they?" she said. "You wouldn't think two people so young could cause quite so much trouble."

Rain didn't answer. The boy's face was also peaceful. He should enjoy the unconsciousness while it lasted there would only be pain from now on.

"We did good," Anita continued. "A bit too close to the bone, but I take responsibility for that. I was the one who let this thing run."

She kneeled down beside Rain and examined the girl's face herself. If she noticed the tear, she didn't mention it.

"An interesting couple of days are coming up. I can't wait to see what we can get out of them."

Rain felt a bit sick. He was suddenly unsure if he wanted to be involved in the next stage. On paper, it made scientific sense. In practice, wasn't it...well...wrong?

The lead officer came back into the room. The floorboards creaked under his weight. "We're all done," he said, with an air of self-satisfaction. "What do you want us to do with the targets?"

Anita stood up and nodded towards them. "Take them back to the centre. Make sure they're in separate cars."

The officer picked up the boy roughly, tossing him over his shoulder like a limp rag doll. Another bent down and, more gently, picked up the girl. Her head fell back heavily and Rain saw the tear run backwards up her cheek and fall gracefully onto the wooden floor.

"Let's get out of here," Anita said.

And they left.

The worst bit of a bad dream is that moment when you've woken up and think it's still real. And this nightmare was refusing to shift.

I was lying on an uncomfortable bed attached to the wall. I kept sighing, turning over and trying to wake myself up. I wanted to discover I was actually in my warm bed at home, snuggled under my purple duvet cover, Mum downstairs making brekkie, and a text waiting to be read on my phone from Noah, telling me he loved me.

But the dream wouldn't shatter. Whenever I opened my eyes to force myself awake, it wasn't my bedroom I saw. It was some kind of holding cell. There was a sink and toilet in the corner and a teeny tiny window casting a teeny tiny square of light on the wall. My waist stung. I lifted my unfamiliar top and found a scab forming. Where did I get that? Was there a staple? I vaguely remembered a staple. My head was thudding dully similar to a red-wine-induced hangover. My mouth felt like the Sahara Desert had moved there. There was a beaker of water on the floor next to me but I didn't dare drink it.

I tried to remember how I'd got here and it hurt my head. There was the gig. And then running off with Noah in the rain. When did that happen? Earlier today? Days ago? I had no idea. I recalled his flat, the candles and the sofa.

Noah... Where was he?

And then I remembered the door being knocked in, the men, them taking him. Screaming.

And nothing.

Panic bubbled its way through my intestines. Where had they taken Noah? I looked around my odd little room, trying to work out where I was, why I was here. No clues. I didn't even know how long I'd been unconscious. All I had was the physical throbbing in my stomach, signalling that something dreadful had happened.

I closed my eyes and prayed to every God I'd ever learned about in RE GCSE that sleep would come and take this away.

I woke again from whatever miserable unconsciousness my body had allowed me to fall back into. The square of light on the wall had gone, the only indication it was night. I lay on my back and tried not to let my brain free-fall into panic. I breathed in and out, resting my hands on my chest, and tried to work out what to do. Ten million thoughts rushed into my head. Where was I? What had happened? Was I in danger? Would I ever get out? Was I going to be killed? Would I ever see my parents again? Friends again? Noah again?

Then that familiar feeling of suffocation smacked me. I tried to keep breathing but was only inhaling stale oxygen. I attempted a scream but only a gasp escaped, making me panic further. There was no one here to help, no friends, no doctors. I was going to suffocate to death in this strange room, alone. I inhaled again but still nothing. My throat burned and my vision blurred.

Fight it, I told myself, but my body had taken over. I began to choke. Fire coursed up my throat and I felt tears run down my cheeks, hot and wet.

I tried to scream, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. My body failed me and, once more, the blackness claimed me.

I came to when I felt a squeezing under my armpit, but my vision was too blurred to see anything.

There were voices I didn't recognize.

"Is she okay?"

"I'm not sure. She hit her head pretty hard when she fell off the bed."

"You were supposed to be watching her."

"She was asleep! I only went for a piss. I come back and she's having some kind of fit."

"You're not supposed to leave her. Dr. Beaumont said this could happen. She's in withdrawal."

My throat was burning again.

"Watch out, she's going to blow."

I tipped my head forward, heaved, and vomited onto the concrete floor. Someone was stroking my back but it wasn't Lizzie, and it definitely wasn't Noah. I began to cry. Tears slid down my face, joining the mess I'd made on the floor.

"Hey, kid. Are you okay?"

Too scared to reply, I just continued crying.

"I think she's done. Christ, it stinks."

"Go get something to clean it up. And get Rain while you're at it. He'll know what to do."

Rain? Was it raining?

I felt another tug and was lifted onto the bed. I curled up foetus-style, whimpering, with a foul taste in my mouth.

I could hear the breathing of the person who'd stayed. He didn't try to engage me in conversation yet he did sit on the end of my bed. I curled up further so our bodies weren't touching.

Footsteps.

I heard someone enter the room.

There was a voice. American. "Did she have a withdrawal fit?"

How did they know?

The person sitting on my bed answered. "Is that what it was?"

"You were told to look out for the signs. What was she doing beforehand?" The American voice sounded angry. I didn't know whether to be reassured by this. If he was concerned for my welfare then maybe they weren't going to kill me. But if not that, then why was I here?

"Nothing, I promise. She was asleep one minute, twitching about the next."

"You can go now. I'll deal with this."

The person got off my bed and left. I curled my legs further up under me.

"Poppy?"

The American knew my name. I ducked my head into my arms, trying to hide my face.

"Poppy? Are you okay?"

Of course I wasn't okay. I'd been kidnapped probably by this random American. Why kidnap someone and then be nice to them? Was he trying to get me to have that Stockholm syndrome thingy?

I felt my bed creak and figured he must've sat on it too.

"Poppy. I know you're frightened. I just want you to know that we're not going to hurt you. You're safe here."

I muttered under my breath.

"What's that?"

I kept my eyes closed but spoke. "That's exactly what you would say if you were planning to hurt me. You're just trying to calm me down."

"That's not true."

I didn't believe him.

"Poppy? Do you mind opening your eyes? I'm here to help you."

I didn't want to. But then again, it was the only way to figure out what was going on.

Very slowly, I opened them and let my strange prison come into focus. On the end of my bed was a peculiar-looking person. He was wearing a lab coat over a sloppy pair of jeans and jumper. He had long hair and was wearing one of those wooden beaded necklaces that boys who pretend to surf wear. A bit like the one Noah was wearing. Noah...

"Hello, Poppy."

I death-glared him.

"I'm Rain."

"Where am I? Where are my parents? Do they know I'm here?"

He held out his hands. "Hang on, that's a lot of questions all at once. I bet more than anything you're wondering why you're here?"

I figured he wasn't a threat, yet, and struggled up into a seated position. "Are you going to tell me?"

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "Unfortunately no, I can't tell you. But Dr. Beaumont wants to speak to you and she'll explain everything."

"Are you going to kill me?" I thought I might as well ask. Find out sooner rather than later.

Rain looked shocked. "God no. Of course not. Did you honestly think...?"

He broke off. "Look. You're safe. And your boyfriend is here and he's safe as well."

Noah? He was here? My heart started to thud.

"Let me see him," I said, a quiver in my voice.

Another head shake. "I'm afraid that's not possible right now."

Noah was here! Here? I had to see him. What were they doing to him? The raw panic re-emerged. More bile rose in my throat.

"Let me see him!" I yelled. "I have to see him!"