Playing House

Chapter 1

September 19th, 10:52 p.m.

"Carly." My voice was a frantic whisper in the darkness. "Carly, where the hell are you?" I stormed through the dark house, throwing open doors and yelling out to no avail. Carly didn't answer me. I wandered into the kitchen where we had left our backpacks only to see that they had disappeared from the kitchen table. I groaned, looking under chairs and even in cupboards for the missing bags.

I straightened up again, huffing dramatically and crossing my arms over my chest in a pout. "Okay, Carly. You're scaring me. Mission accomplished. Can you come out now?" I said.

I looked around, waiting. I tapped my foot impatiently on the linoleum floor. I called out for my friend once more. No answer. Rolling my eyes full-circle to mask the fear creeping up the back of my throat, I walked into the mudroom, shoes squeaking against the floorboards. I wrapped my hand tightly around the knob of the front door and twisted it. The door didn't open so I checked the lock. It was unlocked.

I twisted and pulled the knob again. Nothing. Twisted and pulled, twisted and pulled. Still closed. Getting more antsy by the second, I bounced on my toes and whined.

"Carly, come on. This isn't funny anymore. It wasn't funny to begin with. Come out so we can leave. Please. Carly. Carly!" My voice rose with every word. I got no response. No footsteps on the stairs, no call back, not even the hysterical laughter that came in clutch with Carly's stupid pranks.

My breathing hitched when I heard a soft thump from the floor above me. I looked over at the staircase with hopes of seeing Carly but there was no one there. I decided to tour the house once again, thinking that perhaps Carly's plan was to make me find her. And to watch me lose my mind when I couldn't.

I started with the second floor. I went up the stairs slowly, one hand on the banister and the other folded across my stomach as a means of protecting myself. There was no telling what was there in the darkness.

The house was silent. It was still. I didn't like it. Being on edge would only make it harder for me to focus on finding Carly; I wouldn't be able to think clearly. So I turned on my phone and played some music as I walked down the hall, checking each and every room, calling Carly's name repeatedly. With the phone now in my hand, I had the bright idea of calling Carly. Even if she didn't pick up, I would be able to hear her phone ringing from wherever she was in the house. The sound would lead me straight to her.

I pressed her contact and held the phone to my ear. It rang and rang. I didn't hear anything else.

I didn't hear Carly's end. Maybe she muted her phone, I thought to myself. Maybe she knew I would call her. I was about to end the call when someone picked up.

"Hello?" I said quickly, clutching the phone tighter and tighter until my knuckles were white. I heard nothing. It had stopped ringing. Someone had picked up, I was sure of it. "Carly," I said quietly. "Carly, where are you? Can you hear me?"

The line crackled. My breathing got heavier, my chest ached. I felt sick listening to the silence. I started to say her name again when Carly's voice finally came through the speaker.

"Get away from me." The sound was muffled, as if the phone was far away from her. "Get away from me!" Carly screamed and sobbed.

"Carly! Carly, are you alright? Where are you?" I knew then and there that whatever was going on was not a prank. Those cries were real. They were painful. Following the choked sobs was loud panting and muttering. Carly's panicked breathing came through, now closer to the phone.

"Kiera," she whispered, her voice strained, "get out of here. Get out of the house."

"I can't. The door won't open." I bit my lip to keep myself from bursting into tears.