Twelve

24) Three

Two weeks had gone by since Tiana's death.

Two weeks had gone by, with Zach looking over his shoulder every few seconds, wondering if he was next. He remembered telling Marco that he felt like there was no way the killer was going to target Zach, but it was extremely hard to maintain that energy in the wake of Tiana's death.

He still didn't want to believe that Clark, his best friend, could be the killer. But if he didn't believe it was Clark, it only left Marco or Imani, and Marco hadn't had a phone when Zach had gotten the text about Tiana's death.

It didn't seem very likely it was Marco. It wasn't Zach. And Zach truly didn't believe it was Clark, the suspected fourth person.

That left one person.

Zach had avoided Imani since Tiana died. If Imani was able to kill her supposed best friends, clearly no bond mattered to her. And if she could take down Louis, clearly no physical bond was going to stop her either.

And Imani carried a gun with her most places now. If she didn't have a gun, she was sure to have a knife one her.

So either Imani was the killer or she was going to kill the killer.

Neither thought was too comforting to Zach. As far as he was concerned, Imani was the plague. Of course, he couldn't say any of this to Marco, who was dead set against anyone trying to prove Imani being guilty. Marco was completely devoted. If it were any other subject, it would almost be kind of cute.

Zach hadn't felt anything besides fear and depression since Louis's death. Needless to say, Zach hadn't had a good few weeks.

Zach shook the sleep from his eyes as he sat up and waited for them to adjust to the lighting. It took a few seconds to hit him, but when it did the pounding headache he had hit him like a truck.

He tried to stand, but his legs were too shaky and his breathing sped up. He slumped down against the concrete wall.

Concrete wall.

This wasn't his bedroom.

Almost immediately, everything hit him. The concrete wall wasn't his bedroom. He wasn't at home. The pounding headache- he'd been knocked out.

His breathing sped up again, but this time not from dizziness. Zach was scared.

If he wasn't safe at home, where was he.

All he could remember was walking inside after school and falling asleep, in jeans and Louis's letterman jacket, facefirst on his bed. He felt his cellphone in his pocket and waited no time pulling it out.

He made to call someone, but stopped at the lack of bars of service.

What the fuck did 'No SIM' mean?

It didn't matter. It meant he was stuck.

Zach stood up slowly, using the cement wall to sturdy himself.

Glancing around the room, he noticed that it was mostly empty besides a few random pieces of debris here and there and a three foot stool in the corner. The door sat on the far side of the room, and was undoubtedly locked. Zach wasn't sure he wanted to know what was on the other side of the door.

A small window sat near the top of the wall, closer to the ceiling than it was Zach. If Zach was maybe three feet taller, he would've been able to reach the window and climb out, but it was hopeless.

There was nothing he could do to escape.

"They left that stool for a reason," Zach mumbled as he tried opening the door, which was locked, as expected.