Maci | The Call

Pin balling down the claustrophobic corridor, I slam into the bathroom door and stumble inside, barely making it into a stall before my legs give out. The lock rattles as I twist it, and then I'm collapsing onto the grimy floor, the cold, wet tiles seeping through my jeans.

Panic surges through me, sharp and suffocating. This isn't alcohol. I've been drunk before. This is something else.

My body is alien and unresponsive. I try to swat at fluorescent lights buzzing like a swarm of bees in my skull. I feel myself slipping away, mind tethered by a single fraying thread. My hands shake and I claw at my purse, digging for my phone. My fingers are numb with a thousand tiny pins and needles.

Finally, I feel the smooth metal in my hand, but even holding it is a Herculean effort. My vision swims, the screen blurring and bending as I fight to open my messages.

Message Emma. Message Emma. Just get to Emma. I chant it in my head, trying to force my failing body to comply.

When the messages app finally opens, I nearly sob with relief. My hands shake so badly I don't even look at the screen, my frantic thumbs stabbing at letters. It has to be the last thread, Emma, telling her I'd meet her at the bar. It has to be.

'Water. Please. Something wrong.'

Seconds drag into eternity, or maybe it's just a few heartbeats, I can't tell. Time feels slippery, impossible to grasp. Then, the phone vibrates in my hand. An incoming call. Relief washes over me so sharply it's almost painful.

Emma. It's Emma. She got my message.

I fumble to answer, tears spilling over as I press the phone to my ear.

"Emma?" My voice cracks on a sob.

"Where the fuck are you?" The voice that comes through the line isn't hers. It's rough, urgent, and unmistakable. Thorne.

No. Impossible. It isn't be him. I can't trust my short circuiting my brain.

"Who is this?" My words slur, my tongue thick and heavy in my mouth. Speaking feels like dragging myself through quicksand.

"Maci." The voice sharpens, panic barely contained. "Where the fuck are you?"

The raw intensity of it cuts through some of the haze, and I shudder. This isn't a prank. It feels real, too real. But why would he be calling me? My thoughts jumble, crashing into one another like shards of broken glass.

No way that's Thorne, he wouldn't panic, especially not over me. No.

"I don't know. Leave alone," I mumble, another sob escaping. I can't deal with this. I can't even deal with myself.

My thumb trembles as I end the call.

The phone vibrates immediately; I hit decline without even looking, my chest heaving as the fog coils tighter, pulling me under. The world tilts again, and I slump further against the stall wall, my body feeling too heavy to hold up.

The bathroom door creaks open, the sound distant and distorted. Footsteps echo, quick and frantic, accompanied by muffled cursing. Whoever it is stumbles into the stall next to mine, rattling the partition with their hurried movements. I'm barely aware of it, my head lolling to the side as my vision flickers.

Then, a familiar voice hits the haze, sharp and trembling.

"Shit. Maci!"

Emma.

Her wide eyes appear over the top of the stall, her expression morphing from confusion to pure horror as she takes me in.

"What the hell is going on? Thorne Wintermere just called me. He said not to let you leave and that he's on his way."

Her words take time to register, the weight of them landing sluggishly in my fogged brain. Thorne? Called her? My head throbs, trying to process how he's involved, but it's like trying to grab smoke.

"What?" My voice is barely a whisper, the syllables slurring worse now. "How are you floating?"

"I'm not floating, you idiot," she snaps, her voice tight with panic. Her hair swings wildly as she shakes her head. "I'm standing on the damn toilet. Jesus, Maci. What's going on? Why is Thorne calling me acting like he's about to tear the entire world apart?"

I want to answer, to say something that makes sense, but the fog pulls tighter, and everything spins faster. My grip on reality slips further, her words echoing distantly as I fall deeper into the void.

"I don't know," I manage, my voice a muddled mess of slurred syllables.

The floor beneath me spins like a carousel, my stomach rolling with every tilt. My hands press into the tiles, to stop the sensation of being flung into the void.

"I don't feel right. How does he even know where we are?"

Emma's face shifts, the confidence and sass she always carries slipping away, replaced by a raw fear that if I were in any other state, would have adrenaline tearing through me.

Her lips flatten into a grim line.

"Fuck, I have no idea, but he sounded… intense. Maci, stay with me, okay? I can't get this damn door open. Don't close your eyes. DON'T YOU DARE FALL ASLEEP!"