Unattended IPhone

1.1K 67 20
                                    

~Ember~

Emily has increasingly grown worse ever since the weird moment in the small restaurant. The tall boy, Luke, watched us with bright blue eyes as she tottered drunkenly out the door. This was weird because she had nothing to drink at all.

Now I'm currently driving us to work, while Emily sits in the passagner seat, her head rests against the window. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap.

"Emily? Are you sure that you want to go to work today? I can call Phil and tell him that I'm dropping you back off at the motel.

"Actually, I think that is a good idea." Emily speaks clearly and I quickly turn around on the empty road. I glance at her pale face and hope that I make it back in time before she vomits in the car.

"Hold on, Em. We'll be home soon." I mutter and keep my eyes on the road as I reach one hand over to gently touch her shoulder. She twitches at my touch, but doesn't say anything.

I wonder if someone did something to her, or if she's just getting sick. But if she was just getting sick, she wouldn't have had that weird outburst earlier. There has to be something else. I wonder if it's about Harry, or maybe even her real family.

My thoughts swirl around in my head as I finally reach the motel and pull up to our room.

"Hey, we are here. Are you okay to go inside by yourself?" I ask concerned that maybe I should help her in at least.

"No, Thanks. I will be fine." Emily says and lifts her forehead from the window. A grease mark from her  is left, clouding up the window. In a slow motion she opens the door and shakily puts her feet out.

"Are you sure? You don't look good." I say and begin to open my door.

"No!" A sudden chill runs through me at her change of tone. This one is angry sounding, it frightens me.

"Okay. Calm down. Just get inside then." I mumble and she lightly scoffs before gently shutting the door behind her. I watch her wobble her way up to the motel door and press her key into the door before going inside.

Something is definitely wrong here and Emily is not sick at all. I just know that it's something I must have said to her. It just had to be that.

I put the car in reverse and headed back towards work. After awhile I realize that I never called Phil. My first reaction is to look in the passenger seat for my phone. However I don't have a phone seeing as Johnny destroyed it that fateful night.

One thing that does catch my eye is the purple gleam of Emily's phone. It must have fallen out of her pocket or something. I pull off to the side of the road deciding that I need to call Phil and give him a heads up anyway.

When I retrieve the phone, it feels light in my hands which is strange for an IPhone. I pushed the home button and the screen lit up with 'Slide To Unlock'.

With Emily being as secretive as she was lately, it didn't make any sense for her to have her phone so easily unlockable. My finger touched to contacts and it opened immediatly. Instead of scrolling through, I just typed in Phil. Of course later I would creep through the phone. I just want to know what she's hiding from me!

Phil answered on the second ring as I pressed the cold phone to my ear.

"Hello, Emily?"

"No, this is Ember. I was just calling to tell you that Emily won't be at work today. It will be just me because she's feeling really sick today. I'm about halfway there." I say quickly and can hear him breathing on the other end. 

"Alright. See you soon." He replies and the line goes dead. I sigh and place the phone in the pocket on my sweatshirt and then continue to drive to work. 

I hope there isn't much work today so I can figure somethings out about Emily and why she's acting so weird. Maybe Phil even knows a thing or two about it. It could be this dreadful town.

About twenty minutes later I'm pulling down the long driveway of the church. The sun is out and shining brightly making it look like a happy sunday afternoon, but when I look a little further to the left I can see that this day in fact is nothing like that.

There, Phil stands with a shovel in hand and a plot map in the other.

Oh, Marcel! 2Where stories live. Discover now