You Have 86,400 Seconds To Find Me

Chapter One

2:36pm (Before the Countdown)

   Macy never showed up at school today.
In the six years that I have known Macy, she has missed exactly two days of school.
The first day Macy had missed school was way back in the seventh grade. I remember it was on account of her catching some sort of twenty-four hour stomach virus that made it physically impossible for her to come in.
That, however, had not stopped her from trying.
I remember Mrs. Sales telling me how she basically had to strap Macy down into her bed, just to keep her from trying to sneak her way out through the bedroom window, backpack in hand.
That was how much Macy Sales hated missing school.
The second time Macy missed school was the day her father passed away, six months ago. I had taken the day out as well. Not because I had a close relationship with Macy's father, but because I could tell that Macy had needed me, even if she hadn't said so herself. And even then, she was right back in her usual seat, bright and early the following Monday.
Macy was not the kind of girl who needed people.
She liked hanging out and having fun, she had friends and family, sure. But, she didn't need anyone.
Macy was the kind of girl who didn't cry and call for her Mother when she fell off her bike and twisted her ankle. No, Macy would find a way back home on her own, even if she had to crawl, just so that she wouldn't have to call anyone for help.
It was this that had always worried me.
When I arrive at Macy's house, I notice that her Mom's car is not in the driveway. Odd, considering Gale typically works the night shift during the week and is usually home, relaxing by the TV at this time. I figure that maybe she just ran out to the store for provisions and Macy is upstairs, lying in her bed, probably moping because she's sick and her Mom made her stay home from school today. I let the uneasiness in my stomach settle as I dig in my bag for the spare key Macy had given me, incase of emergencies.
The first thing I notice upon walking into the foyer is that the Welcome mat under my feet is slightly crooked, like always.
I know you like things straight, Max, but there's really no point in fixing it, Macy had joked the first time I came over to her house after school. It was mid-way through our sixth grade year, a couple of months after I moved to Rhode Island from New Jersey.
"Why not?" I had asked, because Macy's responses always amused me. I had only known her for a few short months but I could already tell we were going to be great friends.
Well, because as soon as you fix it, I'm just going to move it right back to the way it was, she said, a wide smile creeping across her face. Now, come on! I want to show you my room.
Just like that first time, I bound around the corner and take the stairs two at a time. Macy's room is the second door on the left, the one with the: You have reached Macy's Room. Do NOT enter without permission. (Or Else!) sign on it.
"Hey, Mace! Can I come in?" I yell through the wooden door, not wanting to enter without permission because, well, or else. After a few seconds of silence, I knock and yell again. "Macy, are you there?" I try, a little louder this time, as I rest my forehead against the door.
Still nothing.
"Okay, well, I'm coming in!" I warn, figuring maybe she is asleep and didn't hear me call for her. I am surprised though, when I open the door, to find Macy's bed made and no Macy in sight.
Puzzled, I pull my phone out of the front pocket of my hoodie and take a seat on the edge of Macy's bed, plopping my backpack down next to my feet. I shoot her a text.

   Hey, Mace. I'm in your room, don't kill me. I used the spare key. Where R U? Thought you were out sick today?

   I put my phone down on the bed and walk over to Macy's desk, hoping maybe I can log into Facebook for a little while, since I have nothing better to do while I wait for Macy to return. Lucky for me, Macy forgot to lock the screen on her way out. Score!
First, I check my Facebook page. Nothing new going on there. Then I log into my Gmail account, making sure to fully log out of my Facebook account first. Macy would kill for the opportunity to hack my page and put up a status about how awesome she is. Correction: how awesome I think she is.
I am shocked to find that I had five new e-mails. Two of them are from my guidance counselor about my SAT scores. One is from my grandmother, one is a random Facebook notification, and one is an e-mail from MaceeSales19@yahoo.com.
I immediately click it open, surprised to find that it had been sent to me no longer than ten minutes ago, via mobile. It looks as though it is a video message, with a message attached.