Author's Note: Hey, sorry fans for the delay. Thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate those who would take that extra second. As for the others, perhaps you will review so I'd know your thoughts?
This is a really short chapter, but it is followed by another in one or two second, so I have more than made up for it :D
Heart beating rapidly, Riven rushed towards Musa's room, vague memories of his last visit there flashing through his mind. He still wasn't sure about anything. Everything had happened so fast- he had hardly been able to get over the range of emotions he had been subjected to in the past few hours—jealousy, discomfort, amusement, anger, betrayal, shock, disgust, and now fear. He ran through the list, mind trying to get rid of the booming of his heart in his ears.
What happens if you don't find her there? A small voice asked him. He would most certainly go crazy. Already, he was covering the distance in a quarter of the time he would actually take if walking, and it wasn't fast enough.
When the door that led to her room came into focus, Riven paused only for a second, wondering what he could say, or do. This is no time to feel awkward, he scolded himself, Jared could be in there right now, killing her! He knocked softly on the door. He reflected sadly that this was the first time he was actually visiting her, uninvited. And now, when we are practically strangers.
"Musa!" he called, voice slightly choked with fear, "It's me! Open up, this is serious!"
Silence.
Fists began to bang on the door now, a little desperately.
"Hey! This is no time to be playing around! There's been a murder!" he yelled, now a bit angry. Was she trying to avoid him?if so, she had picked the worst time to start doing it.
No sound came from her room.
Riven's imagination had begun to play tricks on him. He imagined an empty room, and Jared chasing the musical princess through the forest. Or- Musa being tied up inside with Jared having gagged her, and doing unspeakable things to her. Or- she already being dead somewhere…
A stab of pain caught his attention, as he looked down at his hands—they were bleeding, and there were splinters of wood everywhere, some painfully jabbing into his skin.
I should have just broken the damn door down, he thought, cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner. Walking a few paces back, he studied the door, before another thought ran through his mind. I may be rash, but I'm also practical, he told himself, grimly. His hand went to his pocket, and he removed the sleek, black phone that had started all the mess, in the first place.
He dialed her number.
One ring. Two. Thre… "Pick up, pick up," he mumbled. He growled as the phone continued to ring, and then stopped. "The number you have called…" the pre-recorded voice said, before he clicked off and dialed again. He cut it off at the third ring. So, the door, he reasoned. His heart rate must have doubled, and sweat flowed freely down his face. Throat dry and mind racing, he finally realized why he didn't want to break down that door.
Chances were, that Musa would be lying dead in there. And it would all be his fault.