Page 102 of Creed

Horror stories of people—especially pretty young women—being abducted and sold into human trafficking, never to be heard from again, fill my head.

Miguel steps closer to me, hesitantly and cautiously, because I don’t know him, and he’s a big dude. He reaches down, picks up my water bottle off the floor, and hands it to me.

Antonio comes and crouches in front of me. “Just breathe, Ollie.”

“How are you so calm?” I choke and dig my nails into my palm, trying not to burst into tears.

“I’m not.” Antonio exhales hard. “Just better at faking it, I guess. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

“If she comes waltzing in that door with a big grin because she got some tail, I’ll kick her ass.” I swipe at my tears.

Antonio chuckles, and Miguel grunts with a smile.

“How about you try to get some sleep?” Antonio stifles a yawn.

“You guys should, too. It’s got to be morning in New York time, and you’ve been up all night.”

“We’re going to go check in at the hotel. You’ll be okay here?”

I nod. “You’ll call me if you hear anything? Like, call me right away, regardless of the time?”

“Of course.” Antonio stands and groans, rubbing his left knee. “Hit my thirties and my body is going to shit.” He laughs, and I half laugh, half cry. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Try to get some rest, yeah?”

I nod, even though I’m sure I won’t sleep.

Antonio grabs his jacket off Sophie’s bed and slips both his phone and Sophie’s into his pocket. Miguel opens the door for them, and I stand from my bed.

“Make sure you lock your door,” Miguel says as they leave.

I lock it behind them, then sit on the foot of my bed, staring at Sophie’s empty one, and finally burst into tears.

I hardly slept after Antonio and Miguel left. I'm out of my mind with worry about Sophie and that I might miss her coming home.

My hip aches from lying on my side, curled into a ball, staring at her bed. My thumbnail is chewed off.

A knock on the door makes my heart stop, then it restarts at the beat of galloping horses as I throw back the comforter and bolt to the door.

Maybe Sophie forgot her key.

Or maybe it’s the police coming to tell me she’s dead.

My hand shakes as I grip the knob without turning it, and my breathing turns ragged.

“Ollie? You in there?”

It's Zac. Not Sophie.

I rest my head against the door, my knees wanting to buckle as more worry falls onto my shoulders.

Opening the door, I stare at Zac through blurry, tear-filled eyes. He shuts the door and hugs me awkwardly.

“So, I take it no word from Soph yet?”

I push away, sniffling, wiping my nose, and going to get a tissue from Sophie’s desk. Staring at her untouched pillow, my voice quivers, “No.”

Zac sighs and sits on Sophie’s bed. He looks like shit. His normally neat-styled golden-blonde hair is askew, and his eyes are bloodshot. “She’s fine.”

“Oh, and you know that how?” I huff, stomping over to my bed and sitting on it cross-legged.

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