The Slender Sickness

Chapter 4: Missing

"Damn it, Matthew, pick up your phone..." I spoke to myself.

I had been trying to text Matthew for several days now, it was now the 25th, and he still hasn't picked up. I fear that something bad happened to him. Something... Though, I could just be scared over nothing. Maybe he dropped his phone or something, or maybe he's busy right now. But... I still just had a bad feeling.

I set my phone down on my very familiar coffee table, and sat down, looking at my TV. The news was on, talking about the disease again.

..."It's getting worse..." I muttered to myself, worrisome.

The illness is getting more viral, it's spreading more. People in Greenland are infected now, apparently. And they still aren't even close to creating a cure for it.

The news reporter continued speaking to the camera, telling more new, terrible things about the disease.

"It is reported that some of those infected simply vanish without a trace. And-"

I turned the TV off before she continued speaking, deep in thought... 'I have to see if Matthew's alright.' I thought. Yes, it's dangerous to go outside. But Matthew just vanished like the news said. Matthew's been my best friend for so long. I can't just, not do anything, right?

I don't know what else to do. I have to see if Matthew's okay. I've been trying to contact him for around 6 days now.

'I'll have to drive to his house.' I thought as I stepped over to my front door, and peered out the window to the right. Not a soul in sight right now. Everyone's in their homes, hiding from the illness.

I sigh and look to the right of the door. My kitchen was there, of course. I step into the room and walk past the big counter. The backdoor leading to my garage was there, and I pulled the doorknob and walked in.

There, my car was. A brown Toyota Corolla set right in front of the garage door. I get my car keys and unlock the car. Opening the door, and climbing inside, I put the key in the ignition and start it up, ready to drive to Matthew's house.

...

...

Soon, I was on the street where Matthew lives. Driving through the neighborhood, no people were outside, obviously. I pulled up to Matthew's house, a nice orange-colored suburban home in a decent neighborhood.

I got a little anxious, getting out of my car. I didn't want to get infected or anything, as Matthew did say it spreads through the air. But I had to make sure Matthew's okay.

I had a small suspicion about that guy in the red mask and black hoodie I saw just 6 days ago. And my suspicion just grew when I noticed the shattered window right next to his front door. My heart skipped a beat and I felt... frozen for a moment, unknowing of what exactly to do.

I step up to the shattered glass of the window pane and peek inside. There was sharp glass all over the floor on the carpet, and everything in the house seemed trashed-up and messed-with. The pictures of various members of his family on the wall were crooked, some pictures having large gashes in them as if someone sliced them with a machete. The couch was scratched-up, the white stuffing or whatever it's called, --was all over the floor.

There was no sign of Matthew, though. The lightbulb overhead looked burnt-out, too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a slight bit movement, a creak being heard from the floorboards. My eyes darted to where the movement came from to just see, Matthew's little black-and-white cat, Zoe, --just sitting there, staring at me.