Taken

Chapter 12

I awake with a gasp, my eyes darting around me as I take in my bearings. It takes a few moments for my brain to register the fact that I am laying on my bed and not in some strange forest with a light goddess named Beata. My eyes close at this pleasant thought, my rapid breaths beginning to calm along with my pounding heart.

            When I reopen them, I haul myself up and into a sitting position, rubbing the sleepless night out of my eyes and glancing at my alarm clock to see that I only have a half an hour to get ready and to school before the final bell rings.

            I'm on my feet in a heartbeat at this realization. I mutter curses under my breath as I quickly make my bed and toss the journal into its hiding place. Within fifteen minutes I'm dressed in my uniform, my hair a mess of tangles that I happen to wrangle up in a slapdash bun. My bag is over my shoulder and a bagel rests in my hand as I jog out towards my bike. I bite into my bagel, keeping it in my mouth as I slide onto my bike and begin pedaling towards school.

            I make it to school just in time, but all throughout the day I have a feeling that I am forgetting something, something important. I finger the locket around my neck, my thoughts taken by that nagging feeling that tugs at my gut.

            It isn't until I get home that I realize what it was.

            The journal.

            As soon as this realization dawns on me, I sprint up the stairs, taking them two at a time as my mind clouds with worry.

            When I put the journal in its hiding place this morning, I jammed it in there and just placed the wood haphazardly on top. Now I realize that the journal was poking out, its red leather-bound cover plain as day in my simple aqua and white colored room.

            I practically dive at the hiding place, ready to shove the journal down and replace the wooden piece when I stumble to a stop, my eyes widening at what I see before me. I expect it to be how I left it this morning, but it's not.

            The wood is perfectly in place as if it was never moved. My room is still a hastened mess just the way I left it this morning. The only thing that was moved was the piece of wood.

            Oh no.

            I rush forward, tossing my bag aside and sliding towards the piece of wood, having to use my hands to stop myself before I slide past it. I try digging my fingers in between the pieces of wood to pull it up, but the gap is too narrow. I sit up on my knees and lean back on my heels as I scan my surroundings for something to fit in between the wood.

            My eyes fall on my aqua ruler that sits in the small cup on my desk. I hastily climb to my feet and grab the ruler before crouching back down and sticking it in the crevice. Wiggling it back and forth as well as side to side, I try to lift up a small part of it so I can use my hands to pull it out of place but all I manage to do is break my plastic ruler.

            With a groan, I yank the broken half out of the crevice and debate on how to get this stupid piece of wood out. All of a sudden I feel as if a light bulb pops up over my head as I think of the crowbar that is hidden on the top shelf in the garage.