“He isn’t going to be happy” I mutter to my captors calmly, a potato sack covered my head, only the very faint speckled moonlight came through the brown weave. I had never seen them, but I knew that there were at least two teens, maybe more. I was twelve, only a pre-teen and they were stronger and taller than I was. They had taken me from the playground I where I was waiting for my father. I heard them as they walked across the gravel, but it wasn’t uncommon for me to hear the late night smoker walk across the playground. Before I could see who it was, they had put the sack over my head and forced me to stand. Each time I tried to stop they pushed me on, the gravel turned to dirt. The teens were quiet, but every so often one would let an excited yip out, they would be quickly shushed by their friends.
“Who?” The teen I came to think of the ringleader asked, their voice sounded feminine and raspy as if she had a cold.
“The one you want to meet” I replied through the sack. We reached our destination, and I was forced to a stop, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder and forced me to sit down. I wait patiently for them; I knew what was going to happen. It’s happened before, you see I was tall for my age with a stick like a form, so I was often a target for teens wishing to prove they were worth attention. It didn’t help that I was homeschooled, so no one knew me and being anti-social I never actually leave my home in the day. My father raises me on his own, no one speaks of my mother, I’m not sure if I even have one. Since my dad works at night, I often come along to help.
I felt the bag on my head begin to lift, a small grin crept across my face, for the first time I saw my captors; there were four teens in front of me and as soon as my head was revealed their face went pale
“What is it?” Another teen asked from behind me. I turned my head to them, as soon as they saw my face, void of any features, they too went pale.
“What is what?” I asked in an innocent voice, happy that none of them could see my grin.
There was a sudden crash in the wood, all five jumped in fright and tried to scramble away, their phones flickering with static. Shadows grabbed each of the teens, they struggled to no avail and disappeared before my eyes. A hand rested on my shoulder
“Good job” My father’s voice rang in my head, his voice filled with pride. I looked up at him, his face, just like mine void of any features and snow white, he had on his business suit. I grinned up at him
“Humans really are dumb” I commented “Those five were hoping to impress you” He chuckled
“They got what they wished for then” He took my hand, and together we left for home. Leaving only the potato sack, the phones who still crinkled with static, and a piece of paper with a crude drawing, it was one of my best; it showed my dad and I holding hands, nothing more. My dad tells me parents and cops often search in vain for the kids we collect, of course, they are never found and are just assumed dead after a while. I wonder if my human parents missed me when I disappeared from my crib twelve years ago? Did they search for a newborn or just presume I was dead? I don't think I'll get to know that but I do wonder some days, what would happen if I saw them again.
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