It Started With Hello

Chap. 109

A few hours later...

"Why isn't she picking up? She should be here by now." Blake thought aloud, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He stood outside Emma's house, his eyes fixed on her bedroom window. He bit his lip, pulling his phone from his pocket.

The last message he'd sent her, a simple text letting her know he'd be coming by, remained unread. He was getting worried; she usually replied instantly or at least called him back. How long could it possibly take to paint a living room? He wasn't even sure. The silence from her was unnerving.

He looked up at her window again. It was slightly ajar, a dark sliver of an opening. Maybe she was just up there, sleeping soundly after a long day. He slid his hand into his pocket, his keys clinking against the fabric. A thought, desperate and impulsive, took hold. He was going to climb up there and see for himself.

He grabbed onto the sturdy wooden trellis attached to the side of the house, his shoes scraping against the siding as he pulled himself up. He pushed open the window and slipped inside.
He dusted off his jacket and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Her room was completely silent, with no sign of Emma. The only light was a faint glow from the streetlights outside.

He flicked on her desk lamp, and a small beam of yellow light cut through the gloom. It illuminated something on the bed that instantly caught his attention. He walked closer, his heart beginning to pound a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
When he got closer, he saw two Polaroid pictures. The back of one read "FOR," and the other "BLAKE," written in a sharp, elegant cursive. A cold, sinking feeling washed over him, and he swallowed hard, his throat dry. This was a message for him, a personal one.

His hands trembled as he hesitated. Should he just call the police right now? Or should he go downstairs and get Emma's parents? His mind raced a mile a minute, and he ran a hand through his hair, the panic setting in. Just looking at the handwriting, he had a sickening feeling it was the same as on the newspaper Emma had received months ago.

He reached out his hand and slowly, reluctantly, turned over the first photo. It was Emma in what looked like a crowded kitchen, with partygoers laughing in the background. Bottles of beer were lined up on a counter. A dark-skinned girl stood beside her, along with an Asian girl and Niki, whom he immediately recognized from The Underground.

Emma had never mentioned anything to him about going to a party. He was confused, and his heart hammered in his chest. This made him even more nervous. He pulled his phone from his pocket, found Niki's number in his contacts, and quickly typed a message.

Blake: Are you with Emma? Where are you guys? Is she ok?

He waited, his heart pounding as he stared at the screen. She didn't reply instantly. He let out a frustrated sigh, pushing the phone back into his pocket before he looked down at the second photo. He leaned his hand against the edge of the bed and, without hesitation, turned it over.

It was Emma, but she was alone. Her head was tilted back, her eyes open but with a glazed, vacant look that chilled him to the bone. She didn't look drunk; she looked like she was on drugs, her eyes barely able to focus. He stood up fully, a scream catching in his throat. He knew now that Emma was possibly strung out on drugs and in grave danger.

She could be anywhere; he couldn't tell where just by looking at the pictures. He began to pace back and forth, pulling at his hair, his mind racing to find a solution.

The bedroom door opened with a quiet creak. "What are you doing in here?"
He quickly turned his head to face Emma's mom, Ms. Pear, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. This was the worst possible time for her to see him. "How did you get in here?" she glared at him, her body rigid and accusatory. He didn't have time for this; he had to find Emma. He snatched the photos off the bed and attempted to walk past her, but she held up a hand like a stop sign.

"Ms. Pear, please move out of my way," he said, his voice urgent and panicked.
She grabbed the photos from his hand, her fingers gripping them tightly. She didn't even look at them; she just pointed a finger toward Emma's door.

He rolled his eyes, but she held her ground. "Fine, but you're not taking anything from her room with you."
When they got downstairs, he noticed Emma's dad in the living room watching TV. He looked up, noticing him. "What's he doing here?" he asked his wife, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She shrugged, waving the photos around like they were evidence. "I have no idea, but this is breaking and entering, and I intend to call the police." Emma's dad sighed, rolling his eyes as Blake tried to get the photos from her. She pulled her hand away, keeping them out of his reach.

"Give me those back! Emma could be in danger. I need them now!"
Emma's dad's phone rang, and he stood, excusing himself to answer. Ms. Pear completely ignored Blake, talking over him. "Call the police once you're off the phone."

Blake shook his head, annoyed by the woman's obstinance. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and gave up on trying to take the photos back. "You have no clue what's going on here! You're wasting my time. Emma needs me. I need to find her!" he said, his voice laced with pure panic as he turned his back to her to check his phone.

His eyes scanned the new message from Niki, a pit of dread opening in his stomach. He turned back to Ms. Pear, who was finally looking down at the photos, her face a mask of shock. Niki called him, and he quickly answered, holding the phone to his ear. He wasn't even able to say anything; she just started talking in a broken voice, punctuated by sobs.

"I'm so sorry, Blake. I should have kept a closer eye on her. We shouldn't have ever gone to that damn party, I'm so sorry! We're at the hospital right now. She's in critical condition. We're so sorry..."

He didn't say anything, just listened to her continue to apologize, the muffled sounds of a hospital in the background. Emma's dad finally ran back into the living room, his phone still to his ear. "Emma's at the hospital! We need to go!" He rushed to pick up his keys.

Blake hung up his phone, looking at Ms. Pear. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her eyes still glued to the photos in her hand. Emma's dad ran out the door to start the car "Do you still want to arrest me, or are we going to make sure Emma's okay? What's more important to you, Ms. Pear?"

Her eyes slowly looked up to meet his, a mixture of shame and terror in them. She rushed past him toward the front door. She looked over her shoulder at him, her lips pressed tightly in a grim line. "Come on," she said, her voice now raw with panic, before running out the door to the waiting car. He didn't have to be told twice. He quickly followed after her.