It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 23

Day had seeped into night as I watched the sunset from the porch. I had always loved sunsets, as clichè as that sounds, it was when the sun and the moon could say hello to each other.

Just once.

Before the Earth rotated and the horizon eliminated the image of one of them. They would patiently wait until they could see each other the next day.

It was beautiful to think of. Kind of like a sad little love story in nature.

But the moon had completely shone in the sky by the time I strolled down the road, my trashed Converse on as I walked onto the sand.

Voices were muffled in the distance as I climbed the hill. The others were a bit in front of me and with the dark of night the only source of light was the large pile of wood burning bright.

I was used to these kinds of parties, this one was no different, though the only thing to note was that we were in a completely different state, with people we didn't know.

Someone had dragged a cooler down here so all of us grabbed drinks before heading off to do our own thing. For Cal and JJ that meant finding girls, for Kayla and Elliot that meant sneaking off, for Finn and Jackson that meant being bombarded by girls.

For Hannah and I that meant wandering around. We talked with multiple people at a time, no one knew who anybody was. It would be nice to meet a few new friends down here.

Though no one seemed to interest us, we continued to walk around and do whatever.

It had been about an hour later when I was stopped as Hannah held onto my arm, her face occupied by her phone. "Look at this." she laughs and flips the screen towards me.

It was a text from Finn.

Help me.
Please.

I looked back at Hannah who had an unfazed look on her face. "Are you going to respond?" I ask.

She shrugs and turns the phone back to herself. "I'm mad at him, remember?" she mentions what Kayla said earlier.

I smile. "Look at you," I push her shoulder. "Growing some thick skin."

She laughs and another notification chimes.

Hannah. Please.
I'm begging you.
We're**

"Who's we're?" I ask, hovering over her phone.

Before she can even respond I hear my phone ringing with an unexpected tone. A facetime? From—I laugh as I look at the caller.

My murder victim.

I don't know what compelled me but I hit the accept button. The call connects and his face–well, as much as I can see of it anyways, pops up on the screen.

"Hello?" I ask with a little enthusiasm in my voice.

"Emery. Help us." he says in such a low voice his mouth had to be by the speaker.

I can hear the sound of the girls around them, obnoxiously loud, and excruciatingly painful to listen to. Even through the screen.

"Can you two get us out of here?" he asks, his lips barely moving.

I look over to Hannah who has this little grin on her face. "Ask him about the special word." she mouths to me.

I raised my brow at her. Bold Hannah. I like it.

"What's the special word Riley?" I give him a taunting response.

My grin grows as I hear him groan. "Seriously?"