The devil you know

"Mom, I'm home!" I yelled as I throw my bag

down by the shoe rack and kick off my beat

up sneakers. Making my way to the kitchen, I

am greeted with the smell of Pozole and

beans. "Oh, hi honey, how was your day?" My

mother questions, her voice laced with the

thickest Boston accent. "Alright.

Cookin' dinner already?" "Yeah, Me and your

father are going on a date night with our business partners Smiths, I made you guys lasagna! It's in the fridge" She grinned. "Thanks

mama." I say and she plants a kiss on my

forehead.

With a smile I make my way upstairs into my

bedroom. Expecting nothing more than the

familiar lavender walls littered with posters

and paintings, and the comforting sound of

the a/c being on on I was caught off guard

because my radio was blaring and I usually

turn it off when I leave for the day. When I

walked into the room I sense someone has been

here. Someone unfamiliar. A few things are

misplaced and my bed is disheveled. My

brother might have done it. Thinking I took

something of his. As I turn to shut off the

radio I realize their is a messily crumbled up

piece of paper on my bed so I make my way

over there. I don't usually crumble up paper

but rather put it in a binder or neatly arranged

on my desk, so the piece of paper was easily

spotted by my keen sense of misplacement.

Picking it up I unravel it carefully, the cracks

and pops of the paper moving fill the now

silent room. Once it is fully unraveled

it reads:

"Hello Carla,

This letter is in regards to your

belovedfriend Max. Max is fine, he is

alive. He is doing quite well actually. I

know you have been worried sick

since you were a child, I've been

watching you. Ive been waiting for

this moment. If you want your friend to

stay alive you will come and pick him up.

He is a pain in the ass to be honest

with you, and you are the only person

who hasn't given up hope that he is not dead. I'll explain more over the phone.

Your first assignment is to go to the local gas station on the corner of Main Street and buy a prepaid phone

and put minutes on it.

Here is the

number you will need to call to reach

me...Good luck

-Anon

524-578-1535"

My stomach jumped to my throat. Making me

feel as if I was about to fall from the worlds

steepest cliff side. The butterflies in my

stomach from the thought of being home

alone have just been shot. And their corpse

are coming up my throat right now. I run to

the bathroom directly across the hall and

spew it all out. Shaking and out of breath I

slump down the wall onto the floor by the

bathtub. I hear my heartbeat in my skull and

the world gets dizzy. Just as I was about to

take a deep breath I hear a knock at the

bathroom door. "Hurry up I need to piss!"

Rob. "Shut up a second." I say and stand up.

"Are you puking your guts out cause you look

fat?" My brother says. "Fuck off!" I yell back. I

look at myself in the mirror. I look as bad as I

thought. My skin a paler than usual and my

hands are shaking. With a shake of my head I

brush my teeth really quick and flush the toilet.

Heading back to my room I close the door

and pick the note of off the floor. Reading it

over and over again trying to see if anything

about where Max is would be hidden between

the ink and the yellow paper. Just a I was

about to put my shoes on to head to the gas

station my phone rings. "Carla, hey what you

doing?" It was my best friend Justin. "Not

now. Meet me at the Gas station on the corner

of Main Street I have something I need to

show you." I tremble and hang up the phone.

Slipping my shoes back on, Robert heads

down stairs. "Where do you think your

going?" He says. "Rob, you are a year and

four months older than me I don't have to tell

you where I am going." I huff. "Fine, don't

die." he lets it go, but he doesn't know how

easily it is for me to do just that.

Knowing that this person...the person who

left the note for now we will call Anon is

watching me put me in a paranoia state of

mind the whole drive to the gas station. Once

I got there, paranoia turned to nervousness.

What if Justin thinks I'm crazy and I wrote

the note so people would believe me that Max

is still alive? What if he thinks this and tells

everyone, the whole school, all my friends at

work and so on.. I need to stop with these

thoughts. They will not help the situation.

With a deep cleansing breath I take my key

out of the ignition and open my car door.

Justin is sitting on the parking thingies

looking through his phone. "Hey," He says as

he beams with excitement. "What did you

need to tell me?" I don't know whether its

him or the fact that I feel like I am constantly

being watched now, but it seemed as he was

yelling. "Shh.Get in the car." I say and walk

to the drive side of my mom's 1996 Honda.

I then tell him about the note that I found on

my bed when I got home from work today,

and then I tell him about the feeling I got

when I walked in my room and how it was

unfamiliar. He got just about as shook as I

did. "Okay, this is some NCIS shit right here

we should call the cops." Justin says. "I know

we should but he kinda says in the letter that

if we do that he'll make sure Max is well..I'm

guessing dead." Just talking about Max again

is breaking open wounds I have not yet

healed. Justin knew Max just about as long as

I have so I'm glad he was the person I turned

to.

"Well I guess you should call the number

then." He suggests. I take out my phone and

dial the first three numbers, then the second

and then the last four. Each ring that passes

my heart jumps further and further up my

throat. Finally someone answers. The voice is

almost not human. It sounds so deep its so

hard to understand what they say. "Ah, you

must be Carla I see you calling." Chills run

down my spine. "What do you want." I

tremble even though the statement was

meant to come out very stern and affirmative

it came out as a squeak. "You. I want Clara."

The voice says. Its laced with sadness almost,

but I know enough from law and order SVU

than to fall for that emotional trap. "Where is

Max?" I inquire. "You'll know soon enough.

Ill call you tomorrow some time. Keep this

phone near." With that, the phone call ended

and all I heard were dial tones.