Kidnap My Heart

Chapter Fourteen: Emma and Will

“No. You passed out.”

“Are you sure? I feel dead. Is this heaven?” Will paused. “I hope not. This looks like our bathroom.”

“That’s because it is our bathroom. Let’s just get you back to your room.”

“No!” His reply was fervent and immediate, and it was music to my ears. The seed of doubt had been planted. He would never fully let it go unless he found out it was just me, of course, and even then he’d want to hear it from my own mouth to make sure. At least, that was what I assumed from what I’d seen of his emotional breakdown thus far. “I can’t go back there. I can’t run.”

I actually had to place my hand over my mouth at this point to stifle my laughter. Oh, God, this was good. This was too good. Sweet, sweet revenge—I loved it.

“Then you can sleep on the couch.”

“The ghost has been there too,” Will said. His voice had turned into a whisper.

“Jesus Christ…” Eric’s tone made me think he’d officially lost his patience, and I didn’t blame him. “You can sleep in my room. Let’s go.”

I guess Will was alright with this because the next thing I heard was the slamming of the door. I waited about thirty seconds before bursting with laughter. “Oh, my God,” I said, stumbling out of the walls and back into the room, still laughing as I sat down. “What a loser.”

Considering I was an eighteen year old girl who’d just been kidnapped by two bumbling imbeciles, you’d probably assume I spent my nights crying myself to sleep. This was not the case, especially not that night. That night, I actually laughed myself to sleep. Yes. One minute I was laughing, the next I was conked out. I guess you could say I cried with laughter, but that wasn’t really the same thing.

I woke up to Will and Eric conversing in the bathroom. At first, my groggy, half-asleep brain couldn’t comprehend why they were both in there at the same time. Did they have no sense of privacy? Then reality set in and I realized they were probably just using the mirror. I guess they’d cleaned up my lovely little message. Too bad. I could’ve had another laugh if they’d left it.

I quickly slipped back into the walls. I had become a pro at that. I had to do it every time someone came in, just in case they decided to check that stupid room, which did happen a few times.

“I don’t need to deal with this shit,” Will said. “First I have to deal with rage, and now I’m being haunted? This is ridiculous.”

Look who’s finally owning up to his anger issues. What a proud moment this must be for you, Squilliam. I nearly snorted with laughter. I wasn’t sure where that nickname had come from, but oh, my God, was it awesome.

“Speaking of rage,” Eric began. “I was talking to Taylor this morning, and she hasn’t heard anything from her. I mean, if she’s still here—”

“Of course she’s still here. My bed didn’t saran wrap itself.”

Wait. Will hadn’t been referring to his anger issues when he’d said he had to deal with rage—this wasn’t too surprising, really, considering his arrogant attitude. He’d been referring to me. I was Rage.

Apparently, my new nickname was one of the many things I’d missed in my absence. It just went to show how often these guys talked about me. Will’s life revolved around me and his fear of ghosts. What a pitiful life he lived.

“Will you let me finish?” Eric sighed melodramatically. He must have been a theater geek. “If she’s still here, why hasn’t she contacted Taylor or tried anything? This would be the perfect escape, but she hasn’t tried anything.”