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Sunday 12th November ~ 3:09pm

Mark's POV:

"3pm?!"

Groaning, I tossed my phone across the bed. The thumbnails were a blur, I had no clue if they'd been finished or not.

It was probably best to not think about it.

I rolled out of bed, shivering as I picked up my phone and left the bedroom.

I was met with a mass of notifications.

Why did I have so many missed calls?

Trudging down the stairs I tried to call Bob back, the TV flicked on as I walked past it. When I got no answer I moved onto calling Wade.

Deep within me dread nagged at my thoughts. Something felt wrong.

"Mark! Mark where've you been?!" Wade yelled down the phone, startling me awake. Lately the world was trying to deafen me for some reason.

"I slept late," I yawned, headed into my kitchen. "What's-"

"Have you heard about Jack!?"

The TV caught my attention.

"Sean McLoughlin was believed to have last been sighted in this alleyway sometime around 1:30am last night, and his apartment was found empty this morning by police who received reports of screaming from neighbours."

I covered my mouth with my palm. No breaths escaped me.

"Mark? Mark are you still there?"

Wade was background noise.

"Police reports say there are no signs of forced entry, but it is likely that this is a case of abduction. Online McLoughlin's fans are in uproar, and it is unclear-"

"Mark!"

I swooned, bile rising up in my throat.

"I'll... I'll call you back, Wade."

I hung up as the screen changed, a picture of Sean filling my TV - smiling like nothing was wrong. His parents were speaking over it.

"Please, please don't hurt our son. He's done so much - so much good in the world."

Tears pricked my eyes.

"H-He doesn't-" Jack's mother paused, stifling a sob. "-He doesn't deserve this!"

I turned the TV off.

It felt like a truck had just ploughed straight through my chest, crushing my heart in the process. My eyes burned.

Jack was missing.

Missing.

A million images of kidnap victims flashed through my mind as I bounded back up the stairs. They didn't tend to end so well.

Plenty of those people die.

Jack could die.

I tore through my wardrobe, the first clothes I laid eyes on ripped out and changed into with rushed movements. I discarded my phone on the bed, Wade's caller ID flashing up on the screen with my ringtone.

I was the last person to hear from Jack. I had ignored his cries for help.

He had needed me and I had treated it like a joke.

I used both hands to wipe my face as I stomped my shoes on, grabbing a jacket on the way out and back down the stairs. My phone was left behind.

It was only going to keep ringing anyway.

I flew out the door, heart set on going straight to the police.

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