Subject #013 | ✓

Chapter 6

I know it's silly and much too soon to assume abduction. I mean, I'm a seventeen-year old teenager. It's a bit ironic that I love horror movies, but it's different when you're living one. After three hours of waiting for one of them to show up, I give up, letting out a long sigh and slamming my head into my pillow. All afternoon, I've tried to distract myself with homework and Netflix. I even cleaned my room.

I switch positions on my bed, pulling my phone out of my pocket to check my emails and missed calls for the sixth time in fifteen minutes. Don't even get me started on how many times I've called them. But every single call goes straight to voicemail. This is so unlike them. My mom always has her phone on so that she can contact me whenever she so desires. My dad isn't good at picking up his phone, but surely if he sees it's me, then he'd pick up. Wouldn't he?

I'll just call one more time...

"Hello, you've reached Angie Hollens. I can't take your call right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Bye!"

My dad isn't a tech person. All his voicemail says is:

"We're sorry. The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail box that has not been set up yet. Please call again later."

The feminine voice shuts off. I drop my phone onto my bed and run a hand through my hair. This is seriously starting to freak me out. My eyes catch on the digital clock on my nightstand. The grand opening of the theater has passed, and I can't help my disappointment. I don't even remember how long I've been waiting for that new theater to open. I pick up my phone again, but instead of going to missed calls, I pull up the keypad. In my mind, I know better. The police won't care unless my parents have been missing for at least twenty-four hours. It's been three hours. Three hours. It's worth a try.

I raise my fingers to the screen, and I notice that they're shaking. Swallowing hard, I type the three numbers. 9, then 1, then another 1. My thumb hovers over the call button. Right before my finger comes down, a crash sounds from the kitchen. I jump, my phone falling through my fingers. I sprint down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. Nothing is disturbed. Everything is how I'd left it. Wait, I take that back. My backpack is lying on the floor, my thermos leaking water into the cracks in the floor tiles. I let out a sigh of relief. My backpack just fell over. Not a ghost. But what caused it to fall?

I push a lock of hair behind my ear, and lift up my backpack, quickly mopping up the wet mess my water bottle made before plopping the rag and thermos into the sink.

On my way back to my room, my eyes brush past something peculiar. A slight blur of yellow crosses my vision, and I stop abruptly. Light. I blink, thinking that maybe this is all a hallucination. When I open my eyes, the light is still there. But how can that be? All the lights were off when I walked in three hours ago. I follow the light, curious. What I see when I turn the corner fills me with consternation.

Sure enough, light streams in through the crack in the bottom of a door that has always been off limits—my grandfather's room. After he died, my parents thought his memory should be preserved for as long as possible, so they locked up the room he used, throwing the only key they had under the door. They made sure there wasn't another copy of the key made. None of us have touched that room for six years. I used to be curious about what was in there, but after a while of trying and failing to get in, I just stopped. Before now, I wouldn't have given this room a second glance. Are there clues to my parents destination in there?

I walk up to the door, touching the handle with my fingertips. The door swings open. I suck in a breath. Holy crap. No one's in the room, as far as I can see, but if the door is open... I hesitantly cross the threshold, forgetting about my parent's disappearance for a moment. The room smells like my grandfather. The feeling that I'm in the same room he died in six years ago fills me with a strange emotion I can't really name.

All the curiosity I have bottled up over the years explodes. I open up some of the drawers next to his bed, smiling at the discovery of the odds and ends that he liked to collect. I run my fingers over them, dust coating my fingers. The next drawer holds clothes. The next one does too. The third one has documents, and the last one has only one item in it. The item is enough to take my breath away, though. It's a golden locket.

Is Jess's finding of the locket coincidence, or fate? What do you think should happen next? Comment your thoughts on this chapter and the previous ones. Chapter 7 will be published tomorrow. Thanks for reading! ;)