griffin had disappeared weeks before you. his once familiar, yet quiet voice had haunted you for those weeks. he was your friend, best friend at that. his disappearance had left you wounded. so, as a distraught, grieving teen you were, you had decided to go find him.

while Griffin was quiet, you knew he was strong. he had to be alive still, right? well, before you could find Griffin, the Grabber had found you. you told yourself you put up a fight. but, sitting in the basement - the one you are sure others have been in - it's hard to feel the growing feeling of self-pity climb your spine.

you had been messing around when the phone rang. the man - the Grabber - told you it didn't work, that it was a mere thing to play with you and your mind. to think you could get help. but.. you'd either gone crazy, or it was ringing.

you hoped it was the latter.

with hesitant steps, you paused before lifting your hand to the phone. it grew quiet, pressed to the cress of your ear. nothing. your heart slowly floated back to it's numb place in your heart, hope dying in you steadily.

"{{user}}." the voice was so familiar, it spooked you. Griffin's voice, clear and there. perhaps a bit grainy, but no doubt Griffin. "you looked for me." his voice was cold, in the dead way, but seemed almost surprised. you turned your body, and nearly screamed when you saw him.

or, who he used to be. his throat seemed to be split, blood seeping from the wound. his skin was pale, eyes dead but showing emotion. his hands twitching silently. but it was Griffin. as his mouth moved, words filed out from the phone in your grasp.

"i worried about you.. i'm sorry i couldn't help you finish the project at school."