Free January by Gabrielle Lord

motionless and ready to attack.
    ‘Gabbi?’ I called. ‘You here?’
    No-one answered.
    ‘Gabbi?’ I called again.
    Nothing.
    I walked further into the house, cautious now, ready to run.
    What I found on the floor near the kitchen made me drop my backpack.
    Uncle Rafe … lying in a pool of blood.

    I rushed over to him. He was unconscious, and blood seemed to be seeping from the back of his head. Had he been shot?
    I ripped open my backpack, thinking my beach towel might stop the bleeding. I was about to ring an ambulance when an awful thought struck me. If Uncle Rafe was injured, then Gabbi too might be …
    ‘Gabbi!’ I screamed, running down to her room. ‘Gabbi?’
    My little sister’s name froze on my lips.
    There she was, lying in the doorway of her bedroom, crumpled like a broken doll.
    I fell to my knees, my ear to her chest. She wasn’t breathing!
    ‘Gabbi!’ I pleaded. ‘Talk to me!’
    I panicked, trying to remember how to doCPR, like we’d been taught at school. Short, sharp bursts of pressure on her chest, pinching off her nose, breathing into her mouth. My fingers trembled, and I tried to calm myself down by remembering to count slowly between each breath.
    ‘Start breathing!’ I cried, watching her body exhale the breath I’d just blown into her. I wanted to ring an ambulance, but I couldn’t leave my sister alone and cold on the floor.

    ‘Breathe! Damn you!’ I shouted at her. My heart was pounding. Gabbi couldn’t die! Violent sobs shook me. Was she responding? I watched her chest—I could swear it was rising by itself now. I pushed tears from my eyes. She had to be OK!
    I heard something downstairs.
    For a second I thought it might be Mum and I was about to call out when I heard the voice again.
    It wasn’t Mum!
    ‘Search the house,’ it said. It was a man. ‘He’s in here somewhere. When you find him, make sure he doesn’t get away.’
    It was my kidnappers and they were after me !
    ‘Please, Gabbi,’ I begged, puffing another breath into her, counting and depressing herchest, ‘don’t die on me!’
    Time was running out. Footsteps were climbing the stairs. Then I heard the sound of sirens coming towards our house. A voice on the stairs called out, ‘Somebody’s called the cops. We’ve gotta grab him and get out of here!’
    I searched my sister’s face, desperate for a sign of life. Then, I saw the faintest blush of colour and a tiny pulse throbbing in her neck. She was breathing again! And her heart was beating! I heard an ambulance siren. It was almost here. Gabbi would get help. Gabbi would be OK.
    I dared not stay a second longer. I kissed my little sister on her forehead and I squeezed her cold hands. I grabbed my backpack and hurled myself through the window and into the nearby mulberry tree.

    The dense leaves hid me from view and I stayed there, clinging painfully to the tree. The search in the house continued. I realised I was shaking and prayed desperately that no-one would see me. I pulled my backpack closer.
    I’d assumed it was the people who’d grabbed me in Memorial Park. But I was wrong. It wasn’t them. Who were these people?
    ‘Look! There he is!’
    I’d been spotted. I could hear them at the window.
    ‘Up there! He’s in the tree!’
    Oh no he’s not, I thought, and let go.
    The branches slowed my fall a little, but I hit the ground hard.
    I jumped over a black Subaru that was parked outside the house, and took off, running for my life, putting as much distance between me and the shouting I could hear behind me, as my pursuers tried to keep up.
    A quick glance back. Two burly-looking men attempting to cross the road against the traffic, and an ambulance and cop car skidding onto the driveway.
    I thought I’d run my best speed last night, but now I broke my own record. I raced across the road. Cars blasted their horns as they braked. Drivers swore at me, but I didn’t care …

    I’d thrown them off now, and I was hurrying down streets