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I arrive at Preston's house at twenty past eight, and maybe I'm overreacting

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I arrive at Preston's house at twenty past eight, and maybe I'm overreacting. Only ten minutes had passed without his text message before I left my flat, but it's never that late; he's never sent it later than three minutes past the hour. It sure as hell is never twenty minutes late.

I don't realise that my knocking has woken Margot until she's already ushered me into the house. I'm asking her when the last time she heard anything from Preston was, and she's squinting back at me as she yawns between words, her blue hair yanked into a dishevelled ponytail. I apologise for waking her, or at least I think I do–I definitely intend to–before racing up the three flights of stairs to reach Preston's room.

There's no music. There's always music.

I'm knocking like my life depends on it, but it's to no avail. I try calling him, but he doesn't pick up the phone. As eight-thirty approaches, I stop being polite and just try to open the door, but it's locked. Margot's watching me from the bottom of the stairs, now fully alert as she picks at her nails.

I don't know what to do. What the hell do I do?

'Preston,' I say through the door, and I'm trying to hide the panic in my voice, but I can't imagine it's very convincing. 'If you don't let me in within the next five minutes, I'm going to call emergency services.'

It takes barely ten seconds for my phone to vibrate with a message.

Fine go away

I blink at Preston's message. No. No, there's something wrong. He doesn't text like that. Not in incomplete sentences with awkward grammar and no punctuation. It's like he rushed it, or had no energy to exert anything very sensical–just the bare minimum to get me to stop.

I take a deep breath, then shut my eyes as I say, 'you need to talk to me, okay? You don't have to let me in, if you don't want, but you need to talk to me.'

I glance down at Margot, whose eyes are wide as she whispers, 'is he okay? Did he message you?'

Okay feels too uncertain, so I reply with, 'yeah, he messaged.'

Relief visibly flashes through Margot's face, and I wish the level of my own relief could match hers. She remains at the bottom of the stairs as I knock again.

'I'm going to call emergency services otherwise, okay?'

It got a text message out of him the first time, so I figure a second threat might prompt him into speaking. I's not an empty threat, either. I will call them. I wait a few seconds, but nothing, then another few. Still no sound from him.

Just as I'm about to call through the door again, there's a click. It takes me a moment to realise what it is, or maybe I just don't believe what my ears tell me. But no, he's unlocked the door. I stare at the white wood for a few seconds, then reach for the handle before hesitating.

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