Chapter 8

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The bowl of popcorn lay empty and forgotten beside me. Louis and I haven't spoken since the awkward hand touching moment inside the bowl.

We stared at the television, watching the soccer game. There was exactly 20 seconds left of the game. Spain was definitely going to win.

As the seconds quickly ticked by, I jumped up off the couch in excitement as Spain beat Germany by only 2 goals.

"A little happy, are we?" Louis asked.

I laughed and sat back down, trying to hide my pink cheeks.

"I just wanted Spain to win," I explained, still smiling over their victory.

At a moment like this, captured, locked up, and alone...Spain winning brought THAT much joy to me. It was all I had wanted at the moment. I wanted to escape so badly, but I couldn't do it. Not yet. But Spain could try to win. Nothing was stopping them. Not even Germany. They escaped with a victory.

I frowned realizing I hadn't escaped victorious. I'm on my kidnappers couch. Definitely not victorious.

"I thought you wanted Spain to win...?" Louis questioned, looking at me. How long had he been looking?

"Oh, I did. It was a good game," I nodded, trying to plaster a fake smile on my face. It easily replaced my frown. I was good at hiding my true emotions. So why did I have a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, that Louis knew I wasn't really happy, despite my 'smile?'

"Whatever," he shrugged. So if he knew he truth, he just didn't care. Fine by me. I didn't like to be questioned, even though I could come up with false answers without hesitation.

"Are the boys still in my room?" I wondered aloud.

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably not though," Louis replied, not looking at me. Thanks for all your help Louis.

"Mind if I go up there, then?" I asked, instead of saying a clever remark.

"Go ahead," Louis mumbled.

"Thanks!" I said, pushing myself off the couch, and heading towards the stairs.

I walked up them super quietly. It was snooping time.

I silently walked past the first door, and scampered into the second room. An Irish flag hung on the wall. So this was Niall's room...

I quickly searched for his phone, hoping it wasn't with him.

I checked the bed, and through his drawers, until finally, I felt something hard in his sock. I delicately pulled out an iPhone. Bingo.

I checked the hallways. Nothing. I could hear voices drifting from my room. Louis was downstairs, and I think Zayn's still in his room. I sunk over to the farthest corner of his room, and started typing in my trainer's phone number.

His number was almost unreachable. It consisted of more numbers than a standardized telephone number, and lacked an area code. Yet somehow, I remembered the whole number perfectly.

I pressed the phone tightly against my ear. I heard a soft ringing, and my heart started beating a bit faster than before.

"Identification number?" I heard a women ask, blankly.

"2206," I whispered back.

"Marie? Marie Summers? Is that you?" The women excitedly called over the phone.

"Yes, yes it's an emerge-" I began, but was cut off.

"I haven't talked to you in so long! How have ya been? It's me! Anna!" She shrieked over the phone.

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