The Cellar Retold

Summer POV

When I got to the club, Kerri scared me when she grab my arm. At first, I thought it could be someone who was drunk. Lewis warned me about those and I knew a whole lot about it myself. Thank god it wasn't a drunk though, I wouldn't know what to do with that. I calmed when I saw her face.

"Have you seen Rachel?" she asked.

You could clearly see that she thought me getting scared was funny.

"Sorry, I haven't seen her. I just got here." I replied.

"Ugh, alright. I'm pretty sure she ran off with her idiot boyfriend. Her phone is off, so we should go and find her," By the tone of Kerri's voice, I knew she wasn't to excited to look for someone who keeps running off with their on and off boyfriend.

"Yeah, um, okay. Which direction did she go?"

She didn't know. Of course she didn't know. This was going to be like a wild goose chase tonight. If Rachel is off with her boyfriend, it will take what seems like years to find her.

"I'll go left, you go right. Got it?" Kerri stated and started to walk away before I gave her my definite answer.

"Yep, got it," I said quietly to myself in an utterly confused style. I started walking down the street to the playing fields, where there is a shortcut to Rachel's house. It got cold all of a sudden. It didn't seem normal for the temperature to seem to plummet in a matter of seconds. Great, something bad is going to happen, I thought. Something bad always happens when the temperature drops in a movie. Lewis and I always watch movies that happen like that. He always is there to protect me though, but right now he isn't. I wonder what he is up to right now. Well, now if I think of it, he is probably worrying about me and won't do anything besides it. I'm surprised he hasn't called yet. With my thoughts in my mind, I continue to walk on the playing fields. I decide to call Rachel to see if her phone is on yet. It goes straight to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Summer. Me and Kerri are looking for you, um, where'd you go? Give me a call if you get this. Bye,"

Easy to say, it was an awkward voicemail. The temperature still seems to be plummeting and I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I start to walk faster and want to get out of the playing fields immediately, but something stops me. I hear someone crying. It isn't a feminine cry, it is a man crying. What would a grown man be doing at playing fields, late at night, crying for? Was he hurt? I felt obligated to talk to him and see if he was ok. With all my courage, I pushed down my fear and started to walk over to him.