Superposition (Starting Position Sequel)

Chapter 24

(Two chapter updates: 24 & 25)

The following days were the worst since Elliot and I broke up. Like I imagined, the time we shared on the bus only cut the wounds deeper, and even though my healing had been minimal, I was now forced to start over. In some ways, the wounds seemed much deeper than before.

I couldn't focus in any of my classes, which was strange as studying had been a tried-and-true method of distraction for me up until this point. But it didn't work. No amount of concentrating on a lecture or reading a textbook eased my aching mind. I kept thinking of the vast difference between Elliot's expressions on the bus – joyfulness to hurt – and how they had shifted almost instantaneously; it made both feel real at the same time, and reliving the scene on the bus was unbearable.

It was hell. Pure hell.

Though I wanted to skip it, I still ran with the club at our next practice. Ian, who didn't know the entire story but did know it had to do with Elliot, persuaded me to go, and proclaimed that a good run might cheer me up. Endorphins, he had stated jokingly with a seriousness gleaming in his eyes.

There were no endorphins to be found on my run.

I tried to comfort myself by thinking that things couldn't get worse. And, really, how could they? They were terrible as they were, and it was hard to imagine a world in which my life could take another step downward; I already felt like I was at the bottom of some pit. It sucked, but at least I was at the bottom. Now I could begin working my way back up again.

The world, I realized later that night, had an agenda to prove me wrong. And prove me wrong, it did.

x

I awoke to my phone buzzing. Prying open my eyes, I snatched the vibrating phone, catching the time on my alarm clock. 1:18am.

Focusing my phone before me, I blinked until I could decipher the name and the picture of the person calling. It lit something deep inside me, and the world around me cleared. Propping upright, I ignored the order I gave myself and answered the call immediately.

"Elliot?" I asked. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Ben?" she said against the backdrop of buzzing commotion, a mixture of voices and music.

"Elliot, what are you –"

"You didn't answer my question, Ben," she said, a slur now obvious in her voice even with all the background noise.

"What – Elliot, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ben," she drawled. "I'm fine – not that you care. Why would you care? We're not together anymore."

I sat up higher and braced my body against the headboard. "Elliot, what's going on?"

"I wanted to – hiccup – call you and tell you myself."

"Tell me what yourself?" I asked.

"Tell you that – tell you that I'm done."

Something large formed in the back of my throat; unsuccessfully, I tried to gulp it down. Lifting a hand over my temple, I said, "Done with what, Elliot?"

"You!" she shouted, and suddenly the noise in the background faded. The sound of a door closing echoed through the receiver. "I'm done with you."

My already knotted chest wrenched tighter.

"You don't get to be the one to end it, 'kay? I'm ending it."

"Elliot, where are you – let me come and –"