Panic Room... (Paul x OC x Jacob)

Stalker

Present Day- Forks, Washington

I sat on the edge of the couch cushion, staring at the coffee table. More importantly, staring at the phone that currently rested there. It had been going off for the past ten minutes, all texts from someone called "Wolf Boy" with a couple of emojis. I noticed that there wasn't a password to lock the phone and couldn't help but think this girl must be very trusting.

The phone began ringing, the tone surprising me, You're a Fucking Bitch Hope You Know That Shit by Atlus rang throughout the house, the chorus serenading me as I look at the caller ID. "Bitchella" crosses the screen with a multitude of degrading emojis. Bella, why was Bella calling this girl? I thought she said she didn't know her. I wait until the phone stops ringing before reaching over and lifting the phone into my hand.

I internally fight with myself for a couple of moments before pressing the power button, bringing up the lock screen, there's a collage of pictures of her with a bunch of other people, some of whom I recognize as some of Sam's cronies. Most of the pictures were of her and Sam Ulley, some from quite a while ago, others were more recent and tended to have the two of them and Emily, or two girls that I didn't quite recognize that looked oddly like her and Sam both.

As I looked through the pictures, I noticed that she looked pretty much the same in all of them, as the people around her seemed to change, she didn't seem to look much different in any of them, other than hairstyle or makeup. I shake this realization from my head and flick up the lock screen, the phone makes a little noise as the phone unlocks and I'm brought to the home screen.

The home screen is another collage, this one of other people, a few that I don't recognize, Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen, and Bella's ex-boyfriend Edward all smile up at me from the screen. She's the only one who seems to stand out as odd in all these pictures. I conclude that she must be a Cullen and that's why Bella had reacted to her the way she had. She stands out in all the family photos, with tan skin surrounded by a sea of pale. Her eyes are also glaringly different than her family's odd honey-colored eyes.

As I study the pictures, I notice that some of them seem to be old, as if they were taken from an old camera and she'd taken a picture of them or something. I decided it must just be some sort of a filter and swiped left on the screen to look at her apps. I felt like a stalker as I did so like I was invading her privacy. Which I was, so the feeling was correct. I pushed it away and entered her contacts.

Most people had names that made little sense to me, probably some sort of describing characteristic or inside joke related to something. I decided to try her recent conversations. I go to her messages and choose the third one down, opting not to click on one that had a new message that she hadn't read. I see the name "RileyBeers" She's sent him a couple of apparently concerned text messages recently that have gone unanswered.

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

Saturday: Hey, Ri...why haven't you called me back?

Sunday: Riley, this isn't funny, answer the phone.

Sunday: Riley,  if you don't text me in the next five minutes, I'm going to drive to Seattle and murder you.

Monday: Riley. Riley. RILEY

Monday: ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE

Tuesday: If you're dead I swear to God I will kill you.

....

After reading her worried messages, I scrolled up a bit to read the previous messages, wanting some context so I could understand why she seemed so concerned...

RileyBeers🍺:

Hey, Gin, I'm thinking of going to this bar downtown with some friends of mine tonight, you in?

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

Still underage, reincheck? Maybe in a few years.

RileyBeers🍺:

Never stopped you before

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

Yeah, but I've got a lot of bullshit that I've got to deal with right now, helping my friend move out.

RileyBeers🍺:

Ohhhhh, right. Okay, well Jessamine was going to be there tonight, was hoping for my wingwoman.

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

You don't need a wing woman, you need game. Which you don't have, good luck, let me know how it goes.

RileyBeers🍺:

You're a dick

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

And you have one, but ain't gonna be using it tonight. Your point?

RileyBeers🍺:

Fuck you

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

No thanks, I have standards.

RileyBeers🍺:

I hate you

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

Love you too, when you wake up tomorrow, text me, I don't want any more drunk texts, okay? remember last time?

RileyBeers🍺:

Yeah, Yeah, suck my dick.

GinnyWeasel-Bee👩‍🦰:

She won't be.

...

So he went missing after planning to go to a bar with his friends? Interesting, I wonder if he's okay. I close their conversation and select the conversation below it. The messages are between her and someone nicknamed "Wifey", other than talking about Sam and planning a day trip to Seattle that's supposed to happen in three weeks, nothing is interesting here.

I sigh as I continue through the other conversations, finally giving up on finding anywhere to give her phone back there, I continue to her Amazon app, figuring that I could at least copy her address down from where it was saved.

And so I did...