Haunting-Adeline

My phone buzzes again, aler ng me to a text message. Opening the app,
I see the Daya has texted me several mes.
DAYA: Are you awake?
DAYA: I’m really upset right now and could use a friend.
DAYA: Will you come over?
DAYA: I’d really appreciate it.
I frown, both confused and worried. We haven’t spoken since we parted
ways earlier, a er the police collected all of our evidence. She had to go to
her niece’s birthday party, and I haven’t spoken with her since.
Tapping the Call bu on, I bring the phone to my ear and sit up. The
phone just rings before the automated message comes up.
My heart starts to pound as I swing my legs over the bed and pad over to
my dresser, rummaging through the drawers un l I find sweatpants and a
hoodie.
I call Daya’s phone two more mes, and by the me the automated
message kicks on, I’m panicking.
Swiping my keys from by the front door, I rush out of the house and into
my car. It’s sprinkling outside, the rain pa ering lightly against the windows
as I race down my long driveway and towards Daya’s house.
During the drive, I call her phone several more mes. But she never
answers.
When I’m a few miles away, I no ce headlights behind me closing in.
Glancing in my rearview mirror, I step on the gas further, a sinking feeling in
my chest.
Something about this isn’t right.
Daya would never text me to come over and then ignore me.
And the car behind me is becoming dangerously close, nearly
disappearing behind the back of my car.
“What the…”
I’m violently jerked forward, my head nearly smacking off the steering
wheel. A startled scream slips free as my car starts to spin.
I regain control of the car, stepping on the gas harder and a emp ng to
gain some space between us. I scramble for my phone but realize it’s on
the floor of the passenger seat.
It must’ve flown from my hand when the van crashed into me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.