Primo Albricci Goes To Sleep

ii

I don't believe in coincidences. I never have and I never will. I gave my phone number out on this random website―along with the rest of my personal information―then my laptop got infected by some weird virus that makes it play random videos, and now I'm receiving a phone call right after all of this has happened?

I mean, it could be my parents calling me or maybe Leighton or Mike or another one of my friends. Maybe there's an emergency, but that seems so far-fetched since I've been like a hermit for the past week. I haven't contacted anyone, deleted the majority of my social media accounts, and made it clear to my friends that I need some space to get myself together now that we're out of high school.

I look down at my phone and the number that appears on my screen confirms my fear. I don't recognize the number at all; it's format is different than the usual ten numbers that American phones have. I consider letting it ring, but I need to know that this one time this is just a coincidence.

"Hello?" I say, answering the phone before I have chance to change my mind. There's no reply, but I hear someone breathing steadily. "Don't call back."

I quickly hang up and sigh, relieved. Okay, that was mildly creepy, but it's happened before. Telemarketers call and don't speak before hanging up. It's nothing too crazy.

I tentatively step out of the dining room, still a little shaken up, and walk down the hall towards the living room. After a sufficient search for the remote, I find it in between the cushions of one of the couches and click on the television. The ten o'clock news is on, and the reporter is talking about the mayor's speech at the new library built a few miles away.

Suddenly, a picture of an attractive teenage boy appears on the top right hand corner of the screen. I immediately recognize the messy blonde hair, the sparkly blue eyes, and the small birthmark on the left cheek. It's Mike.

I quickly turn the volume up. "Eighteen-year-old, recent high school graduate Michael Lahey was found dead in his home in Marina Del Rey this afternoon. His family has no idea who would want to hurt this fun loving, young man. An investigation is―"

"Oh my God," my voice trembles and tears begin to streak my face. This can't be real. It can't. Mike's not dead. No, no, no.

My phone rings again, disrupting my jumbled thoughts. I try to control my breathing but fail when I see it's the same number calling. I hesitantly answer. "What part of don't call back don't you understand?"

"Natalia Tselikovskaya?" The person asks, completely ignoring me. I'm blindsided by the person saying my name without even the slightest mispronunciation.

"Y―Who is this?" I'm not going to lie, I'm a little apprehensive. It's five til eleven, telemarketers don't call this late, do they?

"Who I am doesn't matter. Let's just say I'm a friend of a friend of a friend of your father's." I can almost see the smirk on his face.

I let out a humorless laugh. This has to be a prank, and honestly, I'm not in the mood. "Oh, really? And should I be scared?" My tone is dripping with sarcasm.

"You think this is a game, bambina?" He replies, sounding viscous as ever.

"Who is this? Were you the one who played all of those videos on my computer?" I ask. "Very nice, but you should've saved it for someone more gullible."

"What does being gullible have to do with all of this?" he asks. "Speaking of that video, you do realize that you've witnessed a murder, right? You're an accomplice."

"You're lying," I say between clenched teeth, it's the only thing I can do to keep from crying right now. There's no way that was really murder, right?

"Google it, piccola." He sounds like the most satisfied creep on the Earth right now. "If you don't believe me, take your chances. Go ahead, call up the police. Tell them about a murder that's occurred on the other side of the planet just last night. See how well you explain that one."

I turn off the television, and run my free hand up and down my face. The tears have dried on the my face, but I'm nowhere near calm. Mike's dead, and I've apparently just witnessed a murder?! This has to be a nightmare. Please wake up.

"What do you want?" I ask in a low voice. I don't want my fear to be too apparent.

"We want you."

We.

"And if I don't go with you?" I ask as if I'm actually considering it. "What are going to do? Kill me too?"

"Kill you? Not so soon, you're too valuable right now." Too valuable? Who is this guy, and what is he talking about? He must have the wrong girl. "You're already linked to a murder, and your best friend has been mysteriously executed. You want more, yes? How about the sixty megabytes of child pornography on your computer's hard-drive? If someone were to send an anonymous tip to the police . . ."

I gulp in utter disbelief. Everything that's happened today has been completely calculated. How long has he been planning this and why me?

"No . . . no, you're just going to have to kill me." I angrily reply. This is all a joke. It can't be serious. I quickly hang up before he can say another word.

I stand up and start pacing across the living room, everything feeling a thousand miles away. My phone doesn't ring again which is a giant relief. Maybe that guy really was just a random creep and I gave him too much attention. Two things are for sure, though: Mike is really dead and I'm throwing away my computer first thing tomorrow morning.

Mike's dead.

The guy I've known since the fifth grade. One of my best friends. The guy who gave me my first kiss. I can't believe no one has contacted me about it. I have to visit his family, I know they must be beyond devastated right now.

I throw on a quick outfit, and grab my bag before exiting the pool house. I'm about to run off into the night when I realize that I forgot to lock the door. I turn around, digging in my bag for my key. Suddenly I feel a hand cup my mouth. Sirens go off in my brain and I try to scream but of course, it comes out muffled.

"I'm taking you whether you want to come or not, Natalia."