Calling Carter.

The next morning I was woken by a frantic Adam. “Silah, Silah, have you seen Kala?” He asked me urgently.

I was awake immediately. “No,” I answered curtly. “Where is Layny? And Carter? What time is it?” I was not wasting any time. I had a bad, bad feeling.

Adam was the only one with me in the lounge. “Carter went to tell Layny. She was about to go to work.” He said. “I’ve txted Daniel and Luc. They’re ditching school to come help look for her.”

I nodded. “Keep talking to me,” I ordered, “I want to know everything. When did you wake up?”

“About five minutes ago,” he answered. It looked like it. His hair was messy and he looked really tired. But, not only did he look tired, he looked really, really worried about Kala. I know how he felt. My stomach was tight and painful. I needed to find my best friend.

Carter strode into the room. I don’t think he was fully in the room; he seemed to be really distracted, and while he was ably to dodge inanimate objects, he hadn’t noticed Adam or I. Layny was right behind him, tears streaming down her face. I quickly came and gave her a hug, and she clung to me. She said something, but I couldn’t understand her.

“Pardon?” I asked softly.

“He has her, Silah, he came back and he has her,” Layny sobbed.

Oh.

“We’ll get her back, I promise, Layny. No matter what. I’ll get her back to you.” I knew I would do anything. Even if Carter spazzed. This was my fight too.

“Ah, Silah?” Adam called to me. His voice was panicky. I gently got Layny to sit down, wrapped one of our discarded blankets over her and went to stand beside Adam, who had opened the front door and was looking at something stuck to it.

“What does it say?” I asked. It was a note. And I knew who it was from.

I told you you would regret it. But now you’re making her suffer. You’re as bad a friend as you are a daughter.

I crushed it in one fist, pissed. With a snarl I turned and smashed my fist into the solid oak door. Not the smartest thing to do, but I felt better. Until Adam pointed out that my bandages were getting soaked, cause my stitches had been ripped out. Fuck it. I didn’t care. That bastard had my little sister. Maybe not by blood, but by everything else.

I stormed out of the house, telling Adam to stay put. He stared after me, frozen in shock, then looked at the bloody handprint I had left on the door.