The Pianist and the Author

The Phone Call

"There, there, Samantha," Blake comforts me as he gives me a friendly hug. A few minutes ago, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

We searched my room. I told Blake and Matthew to look for her phone while I was really looking for her purse.

"Her phone is gone," Blake concluded. So is her purse, along with her stories. That means she must have brought them all along with her. Thinking back, does she ever go anywhere without those stories? She always held on to them, as if she was afraid someone might have stolen them. She probably even slept with them.

"Why don't you just call her?" Matthew suggested after a while.

"I..." I facepalm myself, "Why have I never thought of that?"

I dialed her number quickly.

"Please pick up, please pick up, oh god don't be dead, please pick up..." I pleaded into the phone. Matthew and Blake approached me silently while listening along.

"Beatrice!" Samantha's voice resonated through the phone. Never had I been so happy to hear someone pick up their phone. Blake and Matthew mimed clapping next to me.

"Samantha!" I cried out with an extreme amount of joy, "Where are you?"

"Being kidnapped," She answered.

"Um... I hope you're joking?"

"I'm not, Beatrice," she answers in a panicked tone, "I don't know what to do,"

"What? You're kidding, right?"

"I have no clue where I am or what I'm doing," she continues, her voice starting to quaver.

Please let it be that she is only joking, please let this all be a simple prank, please let this be a dream.

"Samantha? You're joking, please say you're joking," I cried.

"It's not a joke - AH!" Samantha's voice shook.

"Take the phone away," a muffled voice grunted from the other side of the line, "Kill this stupid bitch,"

"We need her alive though," a sharp female voice pierced.

Then a thud. A shatter. A glitching sound.

Then silence.