Kidnappings and Love Triangles

I've been to Zoë's house so many times; I know exactly where to go. I quietly dash up the creaky wooden stairs, turn left at her door. She sits curled up on her mattress, a little island in a sea of blankets and stuffed animals. Zoë rips her eyes from the pages as soon as I cross from the hallway to her carpet. Even though I notice she did what I asked, fear and hesitance leaks from the deep wells of her pupils. I, like her, am dressed in the colors of midnight, almost invisible in the weak light. She stands up in front of me, a full five inches taller than my minuscule form. I haven't seen her since the big fight, but we both knew this situation required us to put aside our aching hearts.

"Where is he?" Zoë's whisper tries the hide the shaking desperation, but I hear it loud and clear.

When I don't answer, she steps closer to me. I back away from her presence, recent changes had affected my view on other humans.

"Annalyse, I beg you, where is he?" She doesn't try to hide the anger or fright this time, so I have no problem answering.

"Two miles south, according to my research, it's very marshy and very hilly." She narrows her eyes at my words.

"What research?" I sigh in exasperation. Now was not the time to dig into the motives behind my searching.

"He was my love, too, you know," I say it so quietly, and with so much heartbreak, it sends a shockwave to Zoë's bones.

"Well, we all know who he picked, now don't we?" I spin around so quickly; I whip her with my ponytail. I'm quick back down the stairs and to my truck. It hums with unnatural energy against the backdrop of night noises. We get in without a word, and off we go into the darkness.