Taken

Chapter Three

  Alicia

The next day

Angie has been acting differently since last night at the bar.

But whenever I ask about it, she either ignores me, walks away, or changes the subject.

I'm used to her melodramatic personality and mood swings, and I tell myself this is all that this is.

Angie tends to be a very secretive person as well, so I don't want to pressure her into talking about something that's making her more anxious than she already is.

But at the same time, I'm really worried about her and can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. 

What did that guy at the bar tell her last night that made her want to leave early?

They had probably talked for less than five minutes before Angie rushed over to us, her glass of margarita still over halfway full, her eyes full of panic and fear.

"We need to leave now," she said, her voice quivering.

I had abruptly halted my conversation with my new friend, Brittany, and Taylor and I had asked Angie simultaneously, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just not feeling very well." Angie's eyes flickered over to the man she had just been speaking to before flicking back over to us. It happened so quickly that I almost thought I had imagined it.

"What did that guy say to you, Angie?!" I said, standing up from my seat. "I swear, if he said anything to upset you or laid a hand on you, I will kick him in the-"

"Alicia, no!" Angie had said, putting a hand on my shoulder to hold me in place. "Please, just... I need to leave now. You guys can stay longer if you want to, but I'm leaving. I have a pocket knife to protect me-"

"We're going with you," Taylor had interrupted Angie, standing up from her chair so quickly that she nearly knocked it over. Taylor picked up her handbag, slinging it across her shoulder. "Let's go, Alicia."

I opened and closed my mouth, not really sure how to respond or what to make of this whole strange situation.

But I had followed Angie and Taylor out of the bar, waving goodbye to Brittany and mouthing a quick apology to her. Luckily, I had already gotten her phone number.

Angie had remained silent on the way back, putting her headphones in her ears and turning the volume up. She had refused to offer up any kind of explanation to her strange behavior, even walking faster when me and Taylor tried to speak to her.

Now, I check the time on my phone. It's 8:03 am.

Between Angie, Taylor, and I, I am usually the first one to wake up.

Taylor is sleeping in the bed next to me, snoring quietly.

I set my bed, before tiptoeing across the room and quietly shutting the door behind me.

I walk across the hall to Angie's room. I twist the doorknob, and it turns in my hand easily. The door creaks open, and I can see a narrow view of Angie asleep in her bed.

I take a few steps into her room, the door clicking shut behind me. Angie mutters something, turning over on her other side, pulling the sheets over her head.

I release my breath slowly, my heart rate slowing.

I take a few more steps over to Angie's bed, careful not to make any noise. I know what I need to do.

I look at her nightstand, but I don't see her phone. All that's lying there is a book and a plastic bottle of water.

And then I see a small black rectangle peeking out from underneath her pillow.