The ringtone's songful melody sounded sharply through the house, disrupting the strange peace of the empty home. It was not a large house, and Izzy was able to find Trevor's phone rather quickly. Oddly enough, it sat in the middle of a hallway, where it was plugged into a wall outlet and sat on the floor. The carpeting had muffled the phone's vibrations, but the ringtone had still been audible enough. Though she thought it a bit strange that his phone was sat here in the middle of the house, rather than in his room, Izzy didn't pay much mind to it. That was until her foot caught against something in the dark, nearly sending her sprawling over.

The sound of ruffling paper informed her that she had just kicked over a stack of books accidentally. It had only been a few inches high, and so the meagre light afforded by her phone's screen hadn't revealed it. She pointed the light at them, hoping to pick them up and remove the evidence of her intrusion. However, pointing her phone's screen at the floor revealed more. Next to where the books had been was a small stack of clothes, all neatly folded. White shirts, khakis, even rolls of socks and other undergarments. Trevor's clothes, obviously. A case for his glasses sat nearby. Next to that was a sleeping bag, carefully rolled up and tucked aside, next to a precisely-folded comforter and a pillow that sat atop it.

Trevor wasn't home, this much was clear. He (and his phone) could not be sleeping in his room, because he didn't have a room. His parents made him sleep in the hallway.