Sorry als de kwaliteit vreselijk veel minder is dan de voorgaande stukken. Heb een beetje een writers block.

I wake up the next morning in my bedroom. Iím lying on top of the sheets, still wearing my dark blue dress. My shoes are sprawled in the door opening. What happened? And god, what a headache. I manage to drag myself out of my bed and into the kitchen. Where did I leave those damn painkillers? I search around the kitchen and bang my head into one of the cabinets. Shit! Today was most definitely not my day. I finally figure out Iím out of painkillers and settle for a cup of coffee. Itíll do. While I sip at the warm beverage I try to remember last night. Itís all very blurry and it annoys me. I know Liam must have brought me home, since the last thing I remember is smelling his favorite cologne. But other than that. Nothing. Absolutely nothing after arriving at the party. I decide a call is in order. As I grab my phone out of my evening purse I notice that he hasnít left a note or a text. How strange. Liam, Liam, Liam. I find his name in my contact list and dial the number. But as the first shrill beep of the dial tone reaches my ears I begin to worry. What if something happened to him? He would be fine right? Impatiently wait for him to pick up but when his voicemail activates I stop the call. This wasnít good. I had a feeling something wasnít right. No, something was incredibly wrong.

As fast as I can I get dressed and grab the car keys. I should go to his apartment. See if heís alright. In the car I try to call him another time. Voicemail, again.

ĎLiam? Pick up, Liam. I have no time for your games. I need to know if you are alright. Please be alright and please just call me, okay? Iím coming over right now.í

I drive like a madman, honking and swiveling. The feelings of worry overcome me and I can hardly pay attention to the road. I know itís dangerous, but I canít help myself. Something is wrong and I want to find out what right now. The drive seems endless and I get more and more agitated by the minute. Letís just hope heís in his apartment, drunk, hung over, high. I donít care, as long as heís safe and alive.

I pull up in the parking lot next to his flat and race up the stairs. Please let him be home, please please.

KnockÖknockÖ Nothing.

Shit! No, this canít be happening. I knock once more, twice. No, no, no. I hastily grab my phone out of my bag and dial Liamís number again. Please just pick up the phone Liam, I beg you. With one ear to the phone and the other to Liamís front door I listen for any sign of life from Liam or the phone. Nothing. Alright, so going to the night club it is. And boy, I didnít want to go there at all. But I would, I had to find out what was giving me the chills down my spine and the worry that made my heart burn.

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