I had not heard from Michael in 3 days. I couldn’t think straight. I kept looking at the phone and waiting for him to call me. I looked out my window, hope to see him. I kept imagining him bursting through the door and apologising, saying it was all a misunderstanding and that everything was okay. But logically, everything wasn’t okay.  He was gone and I didn’t know for how long.

On the fourth day I decided that I wouldn’t wait around anymore. I grabbed his car keys and left the house. I decided I’d go and inspect his house. I arrived out the front. His mum was at work so I had the house to myself. I didn’t want to worry her that her son went missing so I told her we were going to a friend of mines house for a week. I unlocked the front door and entered his house. It smelled of cigarette smoke and wasn’t the neatest of all houses. No wonder he was hesitant about me coming over.

After fifteen minutes of inspecting his house, I finally found his bedroom. His bedroom was surprisingly neat.  His room was definitely a teenager’s room. The walls were painted a cool blue and he had posters of Ferraris and other cars on his wall. His bed was double king sized and was black and blue striped. There was a desk over in the corner and his laptop was on it. I walked over to his laptop. I opened it and of course there was a password. Crap. I thought for a moment. Maybe it was his mum’s name? I typed in Rebecca and it failed. Maybe it was me? I typed in April and again it failed. I thought harder. Maybe it was his dad’s name. I typed in Richard and it opened onto Michaels Facebook profile. Looking through it, he hadn’t been on since 4 days ago, a few hours before he disappeared.

Closing the laptop I looked though his desk draws and found nothing of use. Still I kept searching until one of his drawers didn’t open. I stood struggling to open it for a few minutes till I realised that it was locked. I tried both of the keys left over and one of them unlocked the drawer. Inside was an old scrap book. It was a dusty crimson colour and had a black frame on it. I picked it up and opened it. Inside was an encyclopaedia on supernatural beings. The front page said that the book belonged to Richard and that he wished for Matthew to have it, should anything happen to him.  Michael had told me that his father died, but he rarely talked about it.

I decided to take it. I’d return it to him straight away. In the meantime, maybe this book will hold the answers to why an angel would suddenly disappear.