Jenny's story.

'Well...

'I first met Taylor when I was fifteen. He was weird. He came to the school evasive and moody and your generic awkward teenage boy who was new. I heard rumours that he came from a broken home: there were like a thousand versions. Some said his father had murdered his mother, and others thought his parents both had cancer, there was one girl who had sworn he'd been left on an orphanage doorstep. I felt for him: I've never known my parents and even though my adoptive parents are nice you always still have that hole in your heart... We became best friends, and he'd always be coming up with get rich quick schemes or traps for the popular kids- I suppose he was a bit weird, but he has the most vivid blue eyes, they could make me do anything.

'It was a couple of months ago that Taylor started acting a little weird. He started drawing things- burning vehicles, screaming people. He drew daggers and axes and viles of poison. I just assumed he was the same old Taylor, but going through some emo phase. My parents didn't approve-they stopped me going to meet him. I screamed at them that they were wrong, they couldn't see what I could see. They made me angry.

'Taylor sat me down one week and confided in me. He told me...' I looked at Ember. 'I'm sorry, I can't really tell you, he hasn't told anyone else.'

She smiled and nodded. 'It's alright. Go on.'

'Well, he told me this thing, and suddenly everything made sense. He said he needed the money to get to his mother, and that he had the solution. The gallery was strangely not guarded very much at night, and we took the painting easily. Then Taylor got risky. He said it would be funny to take a police helicopter, that way we'd be less noticeable and it would be a middle finger to authority-he hated officials. He had a surprisingly good ability to operate a helicopter, but obviously not that good because...' I gestured around me. 'So yeh. Taylor and I have to find the painting and we have to get out of here.'

The End

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