“Can you hear me?”
I let out a little yelp. The woman’s voice had come in, loud and clear, patient and toneless. But it sounded… off. There was no other noise on the phone. I put the receiver next to my ear again, cautiously this time.
“Hello? Hey, do you know whose phone this is? I found it sitting outside and – “
By this point I was getting pissed. Was someone playing a fucking game with me? I tossed the phone back on the couch. Enough of this, I would deal with it when I got home. Or maybe I’d let Anna deal with it. She was better at this kind of stuff than I was.
With that thought in my head, I headed out the door and into the night
The club was pretty fun. It turned out that Anna’s friends all happened to be guys, with one in the mix who was exactly my type: tall, with dark hair, forceful and confident, and a little controlling. I know, I know, I’m asking for trouble. But a little trouble is good once in a while. Plus, he and I hit it off right away. He sealed the deal when he took my phone, found my number and plugged it into his phone….
“I’m taking you out on Saturday. You better be ready at 8!”
I felt a thrill up my spine. Oh, hell yes, I would be.
I crashed at Anna’s place. We spent the rest of the night watchingshitty horror movies that we’d already seen a million times and making brownies. Well, actually, just the brownie batter, which we then ate raw. We passed out around 4AM and I went home around noon the next day – thank goodness I didn’t have any Friday classes.
It wasn’t until after I’d already showered and made myself some breakfast that I caught sight of the phone once again. I don’t know why, but just looking at it made me uncomfortable. I decided I’d bring it to the cops that day.
I was about to throw it in my purse when the screen lit up. Also See: 10 mysterious planets outside the solar system – You’ll be shocked seeing this! (With Pics)
New message: one attachment.
I slid the phone open. The text was from a restricted number again. I shivered.
I opened the attachment.
It was a picture. A picture of…me. Taken from inside the club when I was talking to Mr. Bad Boy. It was a close picture, too, taken no more than a few feet away from me.
I dropped the phone to the floor. I could practically feel my face draining, a white pallor settling into my cheeks.
My heart was racing like mad, but my brain went into practical mode.