Riley's POV
Consciousness creeps back to me slowly, my body screaming in protest with every shallow breath. Everything hurts. My right eye refuses to open completely, swollen shut from what must be a nasty black eye. Using my left arm, the only one that seems to function properly, I manage to prop myself against the cold wall of the band room.
My phone weighs a thousand pounds as I pull it out, each movement sending waves of agony through my battered frame. The screen shows it's nearly evening. Mom will be wondering where I disappeared to on my own birthday.
The notification screen floods with messages, and my heart sinks as I read through them.
*Lost my phone, it's Mason. Please tell me you didn't walk home alone on your birthday. Where are you?*
*Seriously, where did you go? Everyone's asking about you.*
*Your mom called asking if you're with us. Can you please respond to someone?*
