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There’s nothing to steal in our house. The only thing that I’ve got that I couldn’t bear losing, apart from my dad and my two younger brothers, is my granddad’s catapult. And if anyone tried to steal that, they’d have to steal me cos it’s always on me, always in my pocket and always with one stone ready. No point in having a weapon if you’ve no ammunition. And you always need to be ready to use it. Otherwise it’s just a toy isn’t it. And toys are for kids.
I’m twelve years old. My name is Sime. I’m writing this down in case I’m next. If you find this I might be dead or I might need you to rescue me.
It all began on Tuesday just gone, when I got home from school. We don’t really have keys. The front door is always locked, but only cos we don’t use it. We don’t know where the key is. It’s probably in a drawer somewhere with all the other tat that’s not worth nicking.
So I walked in the unlocked back door just like I always do . . .
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