Deadly

Chapter 7

"I- Sam," Peter paused, as if his silence would soften the on coming blow. "Sam's missing."

"What?" I yelled into my phone. "He's six four, Peter! How the hell do you lose him?!"

"Hey! Marilyn, I didn't lose him! I wasn't at the bar! I was at home with Ryan!"

"Let me talk to Luke." I demanded. "Or Kyle, or David, or Mason. I don't care, just let me talk to someone who will know where Sam is!" The bathroom at the restaraunt was not small, but I suddenly felt very enclosed and claustrophobic. I felt hot all over, and nauseous- very nauseous. I heard a muffled voice through Peter's phone, sounding like, "Is that her?"

"Yeah," Peter replied to the voice.

"Let me talk to her."

Peter agreed and passed the phone over to the other person. To my surprise, it was James.

"Marilyn." He said calmly.

"James? James, where could he be? He has to be somewhere, someone has to know!"

"Unfortunaetly, I am not that someone. I don't know where he is, but if I hear anything from or about him, I promise you, you'll be the first person I call."

"Let me talk to Mason." I said again.

"You can't."

"What do you mean I can't?"

"I phrased that wrong. You could, but not right now, not on this phone."

"Then let me talk to Luke. Or Kyle. Or David." I felt helpless. How could this have happened?

"They're all out looking for him. I'm sorry, Marilyn, I-"

"Don't apologize to me." I snapped, instantly regreting being rude to this boy who was nothing but sweet. "I'm sorry, James. I just don't want to hear an 'I'm sorry.' right now."

"But I am. I know he's your best friend."

"Yeah, I know, but you know when 'I'm sorry' is said when someone's gone? At funerals."

"I didn't mean to say that he's-"

"I know. I'm sorry, my imagination is going crazy right now."

"I understand. I'll call you if I hear anything."

"There's no need for that, thank you though. I'm coming over, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Marilyn, no, there's no need. I heard you say you're going out, Sam wouldn't have wanted you to ditch the guy for him- Oops, I'm sorry, I did it again."

I was trying to stay positive, but James' kept making it sound like Sam was dead, which only fueled my imagination more. "It's okay.I'll be there soon."

"Marilyn, no-"

"Bye, James."

I hung up the phone and quickly left the bathroom, speeding through the restaraunt and back to my table.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked me when I sat down.

"No, not really. I just really have to go."

Dean's face fell. "Oh. What happened?"

"I'll explain on the way. Come on." I tossed some money next to the drinks the waiter had brought out while I was gone.

"Okay," Dean sighed, grabbing our jackets and following me out of the restaraunt.

----------------------------------

"So he just... dissapeared?" Dean asked me as we pulled into my driveway.

"That's what they're telling me." I said in an irritated voice.

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Yeah, thank you, though." I only knew a little about Dean's past as a hunter, but I didn't want to hear any theories he might have had about what happened to Sam.

"Okay, well, call me if you need me."

"Thank you, Dean. I'm sorry about all this, but he's my best friend, and I-"

"Don't worry about it." Dean smiled. "Rain check?"

I smiled back, nodding as I got out of the car. "Keep me updated!" he called as I closed the door. I nodded, rushing into my apartment.

My imagination had gone from being bad, to horrible. A small part of me had hoped I'd open the door and he'd be laying on the couch, or in my room taking up most of the bed, asking me to make some popcorn so we could watch American Horror Story together. My imagination, however, would not let me invision the picture for too long, because after a moment of hope, the image of a newspaper article with a picture of Sam's body, bloody and grotesque, would cloud my hopeful thoughts, and I was left despondent again.

My hands were shaking badly, and it took a few tries to get the key into the lock, but when it clicked, I threw open the door and started yelling.

"Sam!" I screamed, throwing my keys on the counter and my jacket and purse on the floor. "Sam! Sam, where are you? Sam!" I searched the house three times before calling his cellphone.

"Hey, I'm sorry I can't get to the phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks." Sam's voicemail said to me.

I wanted to scream, but instead of making my voice even more hoarse, I called Peter.

"Hello?" he answered on the first ring.

"I'm in no condition to drive," I said without returning his greeting. "Please come get me."

"On my way, be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you."

"No problem." Peter said, then hung up.

I sat on the couch, pulling my beanie further down on my head to keep me from playing with my hair, and possibly pulling a few strands out, a habit I had developed at a young age, and one I always did when I was nervous or scared. Sam always got annoyed with me when I'd pull my hair, which is why I started wearing beanies, to try to stop myself. At this moment, it was useless, and I ended up twisting the ends of my hair and pulling out the stray pieces until Peter arrived. As soon as I saw the bright headlights, I jumped off the couch and picked up my stuff from the floor, running outside.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked me when I closed the door.

"Is Sam?" I asked.

Peter sighed. "I don't know."

"Then neither do I."

"I hope he is." James said from the back seat.

"Oh, hi James."

"Hi, Marilyn. The guys are still out looking for him."

I nodded. "Okay."

The ride to Peter's house was quiet, and it only gave me more time to shift through my horrible thoughts of possibilites that could have happened. We were only at Peter's house for five minutes when Luke called me.

"Hello?" I answered, breathlessly.

"Marilyn, we found him."

"Good, great! Where is he? Is he okay?"

"He's, uh," Luke paused, and I could tell it was bad news. My heart stopped, and everything slowed down. It felt like an eternity had passed before Luke said, "He's in the hospital."