C.L. Taylor

The Treatment: the gripping twist-filled YA thriller from the million copy Sunday Times bestselling author of The Escape


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where I live. I’ve known him for over a year now and he’s never once said anything remotely sleazy or inappropriate. In fact, a couple of months ago he confided in me that he thinks he’s asexual.

      Isla and Sadie didn’t reply to my message. Isla’s a student nurse and works long hours. Sadie’s doing her GCSEs like me but she goes to kickboxing classes several times a week and can’t chat online until quite late at night.

      Now, I tap my pocket to check I’ve still got my phone then rub my hands up and down my arms. I should have worn a coat, it’s bloody freezing. All around me the trees are swaying in the wind, their shadows reaching across the grass like long, bony fingers. I scan the park, looking for signs of movement but, other than leaves tossing and turning as they’re blown down the path, I’m all alone.

      The sound of twigs snapping makes me turn my head sharply. There’s someone about a hundred metres to my left, stepping out from behind a tree. They’re dressed all in black, the face shrouded by shadows. Even from this distance I can tell from his height, broad shoulders and the determined way he stalks towards me that it’s a man.

      I skirt round the tree, my heart thumping in the base of my throat. ZedGreen’s huge. What the hell was I thinking? I need to get out of here. Having ‘Track My Phone’ won’t be much help if my phone’s knocked out of my hand as he bundles me into a white van.

      OK, on a count of three I’m going to make a run for it.

      One.

      Two.

      I freeze as leaves directly behind the tree crackle and snap. He’s running! I take a step to my left, primed to sprint, but, as I do, something hard smacks against my lower back. A strangled scream catches in my throat and I spin round, my hands raised in self-defence.

      ‘Bess! Bess come here!’ A male voice booms through the darkness as a large, brown dog leaps up at me, almost pinning me to the tree with the weight of his front paws. ‘Bess, what are you – Jesus!’

      The man stops short, eight or nine metres away from me, and presses a gloved hand to his heart. ‘Jesus! Sorry, love. I didn’t see you there. You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

      I don’t say anything. I’m too freaked out to speak.

      ‘Bess!’ the man shouts as she jumps up and presses her paws against my stomach, her tail wagging frantically. ‘Leave her alone. Come here!’

      The dog starts off through the leaves and the man ambles slowly towards the park gates. I slump against the tree as I watch him go. This was a really, really stupid idea. Zed hasn’t even shown up.

      I glance at my phone: 7.17 p.m. This couldn’t be down to Lacey, could it? It’s just the sort of stunt she’d pull to try to wind me up. No. I dismiss the thought as soon as it crosses my mind. I’m being paranoid. Even if she knows where Mason is she wouldn’t set up a web page hoping I’d get in touch. She’s too thick for one thing.

      I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, pull my hoody up over my head, shove my hands into my pockets and hurry through the park, kicking at piles of raked-up leaves as I head for the gates. ZedGreen’s probably having a right old laugh at me. Not only did I send him a photo, I actually went to the park to meet the invisible man.

      As I reach the end of the path, I turn round, just to check that I’m not being followed, but the dog walker and his mutt are long gone. There’s no one else here. It’s just me and the empty kids play park. Mum used to take me and Mason there after she collected us from primary school. My brother loved the climbing frame, right until he fell off it and broke his arm. I was more of a fan of –

      One of the swings is moving back and forth on its own. The chains creak as it arches forwards and back, forwards and back. It’s swinging vigorously, as though someone just jumped off. I take off, speeding towards the gate. Someone was sitting on the swings. If they watched me talk to the dog walker they also know I’m alone now.

      I speed past the play park, and up the tree-lined path. A cold gust of wind showers me with leaves and takes my breath away as my boots thump on the tarmac. I’m too far away from the houses for anyone to be able to see me. I need to get out of the gate and onto Redcatch Road where there are cars, houses, people. As I round the corner, I sneak a look back at the play park, half expecting to see a figure on the swing, staring at me through the darkness but the swing is still. Whoever was sitting on it is still in the park. I can’t see them but I feel them watching me.

      My lungs burn and my thighs ache as I run up the small stretch of path to the gate. A car’s headlights flash through the bushes as it speeds along the road. I’m nearly there. Nearly at the gate. Just four or five more steps and I’ll be out onto the road –

      ‘Aaargh!’

      One second I’m standing by the gate. The next I’m being dragged backwards by my hood. I twist and squirm, trying to get free, my right hand clenched into a fist. I’m just about to strike out at my attacker when a soft voice says, ‘Hello LoneVoice, I’m Zed.’

      ‘You’re Zed Green?’

      I stared down in surprise at the small, skinny girl standing beside me with her hands raised as though in surrender. She’s got short hair, clipped close around the ears and a vivid blue or green streak in her fringe (it’s hard to tell in this light). Her eyes are rimmed with black kohl and there is a hoop in her left nostril.

      ‘Yeah.’ She drops her hands and crosses her arms over her chest. ‘Although that’s not my real name, obviously.’

      I take a step backwards. Just because she’s female, and roughly the same age as me, doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous.

      ‘Were you on the swing?’

      She frowns. ‘What swing?’

      ‘The one over there. It was moving all by itself.’

      ‘Jesus.’ She clutches my arm. ‘You don’t think the park’s haunted, do you?’

      She looks so scared that I immediately doubt myself. Did I actually see the swing moving or was it my overactive imagination going into overdrive?

      ‘Oh my God!’ Zed pushes me away and bursts out laughing. ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Of course it was me on the swing.’

      OK …

      This is all one big wind-up. I don’t have time for this sort of crap.

      ‘Hey, LV, wait!’ She tries to grab me by the elbow as I walk towards the gate but I shrug her off.

      ‘Wait!’ she calls, as I weave my way through the gate and step onto the road. ‘I’m sorry. I was just dicking about. Please. I can help you.’

      I turn back. ‘I waited for you for fifteen minutes and you were watching me the whole time.’

      ‘I needed to be sure you were who you said you were. I couldn’t see your face in the darkness and when you and that bloke started chatting I thought it was a trap.’

      I raise an arm to shield my eyes as a car speeds by, its headlights set to full beam. ‘What kind of trap?’

      Zed shrugs. ‘I thought you were both from the RRA. They’ve been taking down my blog posts. That’s why I needed to meet you in person. I can’t share what I know on the Internet, the Government doesn’t want anyone to see it.’

      Ah. She’s a conspiracy theorist. The Internet is full of them. She probably thinks the moon landing was faked too. Or that the US Government staged 9/11 so they could attack al-Qaeda.

      ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ Zed says. ‘I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t have believed it myself six months ago.’ She glances round as another car speeds down the road then grabs my wrist as it suddenly slows. ‘It’s not safe to talk here. Come