Behind The Glass

Part 2: Save Her

I rush through the supermarket. Sudden flashes of the horrific image sent to me on my phone pop up in my head. I shudder.

Save her. It had said. Save who?

My hand reached for an apple, but I accidentally bumped someone else's.

"My fault-" I looked over to the person. He looked my age, but really tall. His shaggy dirty blonde hair almost covered his lusterous blue-green eyes.

"No, no, it's fine." His deep voice calmly said. "Here," He turned and picked the best looking apple and handed it to me.

"Uh, thanks!" I said, giving him a nice smile.

"No problem," He said, and turned to continued his shopping. I tried to hide that I've seen him before. Somewhere.

******

I stare at the screen, trying to figure out what it meant.

Save her.

I kept reading just that sentance.

Save her.

Save who?! My mind screamed. By now, this picture no longer terrified me. Whoever sent this has a hidden number, so I can't call them, I thought grimly.

Instead, I tried focusing more on the picture, and not the words. In the background, a girl was beaten up and deathly skinny. Her hallowed face sent chills down my spine. She was gripping metal bars, and on the ground lie rusty chains. I wince. This can't be real.

I press power on my phone, and gently set it on my dresser, so that it wouldn't crack any more than it already had. My footsteps echo throught my old house. The floorboards creek underneath me. I am completely alone.

I get funds from my weathy aunt to pay for this piece of crap they call a house. I somehow manage to end up liking it, though. Nothing could pry me away from it. I was raised here. Now I have to raise myself.

My parents died when I was only five years old.

I'm alone.

Does save her mean save me? I think. Possibly, wait, no. Probably not.