Caspars P.O.V
I hold the hot delivery box, which held our pepperoni pizza inside, tightly in my hand as I finally reach the front door to our apartment.
But as soon as I grab my door keys from my coat pocket, I feel a horrible churning in the pit of my stomach.
Something is wrong.
Something has happened.
I get this feeling all the time.
It's almost like a déjà vu, like a warning.
I got it five minutes before I got a call from Theodora last month, when she got into an argument with her boyfriend.
I got it five minutes before joe jumped out and surprised us all on our last show at amity fest.
But this time it's worse. So much worse.
I slowly unlock the front door, and step in.
I see two policemen.
And in front of them sits Joe; but it doesn't look like him.
He looks like a ghost. Pale skin, red eyes, tired and weak-looking.
A scared little boy.
And that's when my stomach dropped a hundred feet.
I throw the pizza box on the nearest work surface. The policemen turn to look at me. Joe doesn't budge.
He just sits there, staring at the floor, not blinking.
"W-what's going on?" I manage to choke out.
One of them stands up, and walks towards me.
"You are...?" They begin,
"Caspar lee. His roomate-" I gesture to him, he still hasn't acknowledged me.
"I live here."
They nod and look back at Joe.
"We'll give you two a moment." One of them whispers to me, they place a hand on my shoulder before giving me a sympathetic smile and walking off into the kitchen.
I look back at the police before glancing at Joe.
I stand there for a while, before hesitantly sitting down at the dining table, opposite him.
I examine him.
He looks lost. He's not here, he's somewhere else.
Like a little boy that's just been separated from his family.
"Joe?" I whisper as softly as I can, but he still flinches at my voice.
He says nothing.
"What's happened buddy? You- you can tell me."
I watch him for minutes, in the silence, I can hear the policemen whisper to each over, and the sound of pen to paper.
They talk quietly, but I can only make out a few phrases at a time.
"10:09am"
"Middle of the woods"
"Bruised forehead"
It's when I'm concentrating back on joe, when I hear a name, emerge from the kitchen.
"Zoe"
And it's at that moment when joe makes his first sound.
A whimper.
I look up at him, a single tear rests underneath his right eye as another falls from his left, his body shakes as he silently sobs.
I reach out to grab his hand but he beats me to it, he grabs my arm tightly, and leans into it, soaking it with his tears.
It takes him a while to say it.
And by this time, I can already guess what has happened.
His breathing gets louder and faster, louder and faster, almost hyperventilating, as he manages to open his mouth and choke out:
"Zoe's gone!"