madeline.
he said he gave up a long time ago, but i’m not too sure if i believe him.
my phone rang. i knew who it was.
before i could speak, a voice trembled and crept from the other end.
“i don’t want to be awake any more.”
“mark.”
silence.
“mark?”
“i don’t want to be awake. any more.”
his voice crawled and seeped like sludge pouring through telephone wires.
“are you tired? can’t you go to bed?”
i knew that was stupid to ask. i knew what he was saying, and i knew what he was going to say next.
“i…i took some pills.”
everything froze. i pressed the receiver hard against my ear. i could feel the palm of my hand become clammy. my face was hot and for a second i thought that maybe mark had a good idea. and then i felt sick. my insides felt heavy and wet. and i felt no remorse or concern whatsoever.
“mark. what did. why. what did you take?”
“i don’t know. i…i”
i could tell mark’s mouth was dry and sticky, and he was having a difficult time forming any kind of coherent thought. i wanted to hang the phone up and pretend that he had never called in the first place.
“i took a lot. 20, 30. i don’t know. i don’t want to be awake any more.”
“you’ll never wake up, mark.”
i could hear mark sobbing, slowly and softly. he was sniffling and i could tell he was just waiting for me to say something, anything, like i had the answer.
my voice broke and became a whisper in a half-hearted attempt to try and convey some sort of care or sympathy for his plight.
“mark. mark. you’re never going to wake up.”
“tell her i’m sorry.”
before i could respond, mark let go of his end.
the receiver clicked with the weight of the world.
i loosened my grip on the phone. i pulled the it away from my ear and stared at it like maybe somehow mark’s voice would still be echoing inside.
i placed the phone back on the hook. i unplugged it from the wall and slowly wiped my sweaty palms on the front of my t-shirt.
then i went to sleep because at least i could go to sleep and not have to worry about never waking up.
