I woke up, scared and breathing heavily. For whatever reason, I had no clue. I couldn't even remember what I was even dreaming about before waking up. Shrugging it off, I ran a hand through my hair, looking around my dark room. I looked over at the space next to me, and frowned.
He used to sleep there.
The blankets and sheets hugged my body, tightening there grip as I attempted to kick them over the edge of the bed. Giving up, I leaned over and turned on the small lamp that stood on my bed side table. I took a quick look at the clock, and groaned. Six in the morning. Way too early for me.
I looked around the room, wrinkling my nose at its disorganized appearance. Clothes, both clean and dirty, piled on the floor. Wads of paper surrounded the trash can that sat on the ground next to my working desk. The insides of the small bin were empty. 'I'm not cut out for basketball.' I thought as my eyes wandered around the clustered room, pointing out everything that needed to be cleaned today.
Something buzzed next to me, and I jumped, startled by the sudden noise and the vibrating of the bed. I looked down, and flipped the tip of the sheets over to reveal my phone. It's screen was lit up, and it said 'Call Waiting' on it. My eyebrows wrinkled with confusion. Only one person knew my cell number.
And he was dead.
I let the call go to voicemail before gently picking it up, and looking at the unknown number that had called mine. Then it began ringing again, and, startled again, I dropped it. It fell to the floor with a bang. The impact must have answered the call, because a few short seconds later, there was a voice on the other line, calling my name.
"Vee?" the callers husky voice repeated. "You there? Come on, answer me." I managed to silently peel the blankets off my body, and bend down to pick up the phone. Pressing it gently to my ear, I hesitated before answering:
"Who is this?"
"Vee?" the caller asked.
"Tell me your name, I'll tell you mine." I replied, not telling the mystery man my name.
"Open your front door." he responded quickly. "Hurry!" The line died, and I hung up my own phone. I stood to my feet, and walked out of my room and into the hallway. I slowly inched closer to the door. Once there, I pressed my eye against the peep hole, trying to see who was standing infront of my door. With one hand on the doorknob, the other wandered over to the side, gripping onto the umbrella that leaned against the wall.
The man infront of my door wasn't even looking at the door. He was looking over his shoulders, his gray hood hanging on the top of his head. When he did look back at the door, I caught a glimpse of his golden brown hair. The rest of his face was hidden by the shadows of his hood. My eyes grew wide as I dropped the umbrella in my hands.
No way.
"Your alive?" I whispered as I opened the door. Jason slipped in, and muttered for me to close and lock the door. I did as I was told, and turned to face him. He flipped his hood off his face, revealing the scratches and bruises on his face.
"Oh my God." I said, walking into the kitchen, running a rag under the sink. "Sit down." I ordered, pulling out a chair from under the kitchen table with the toe of my foot. Jason walked in, and sat. I walked over to him, and pressed the wet rag onto his face. He flinthced, but soon relaxed, pressing his own hand ontop of mine, applying more pressure.
"Thanks Vee." he said.
"What happened?" I asked. "Where have you been? The whole world thinks your dead, McCann!" I removed my hand from under his, and crossed my arms across my chest. "I want answers, now."
