It Ends With a Text (Sequal to It Began With a Text)

Prologue

     It ends with not a text, but a call unanswered.

     The boy pressed the call button again and again, seeing the minutes in his periphery going down on his computer at an agonizing pace, so slowly and at the speed of light.

     "Please, please, please, pick up!" The phone went to voicemail again and the boy's head fell into his hands. He felt them go wet with tears.

     "I'm sorry, I really am..." There was a lot he had to be sorry for already, but the mistakes wouldn't stop there.

     It ends with not a text, but a call ignored.

     The boy's face brightened up at the new but welcoming face on the screen in front of him. At the speed of light, he began to speak, not in the language he was supposed to but he would fix that soon enough. Very soon.

     He felt like a new person. He didn't recognize the person speaking so animatedly, a huge smile on his face, but all he knew was that life was easy for this boy now. He was happy for this boy.

     The ringing of his phone became a dull buzz in the background. He saw the caller ID and pushed down the streams of anger that threatened to make his face fall. Now wasn't the time. Now was the time to see what more this boy could do because now, of course, there was nothing he couldn't do.

     The ringing eventually stopped but the boy didn't regret it. He would actually be smiling for a long time before he learned to regret it.

     It ends with not a text, but an interview.

     The interviewer frowned as she flipped through the boy's papers. The boy shuffled nervously in his sheet, catching on immediately that something was wrong. Nothing should have been wrong. He double-checked.

     The interview left him alone in silence for longer than she should. She broke it with a heavy sigh, glancing at the boy with an almost pitying look.

     "Your grades are very good and your extracurriculars look solid."

     The boy waited.

     "However..."

     He could barely breathe.

     "Certain matters come up in your history that look quite concerning."

     The boy sat stone-faced, forcing himself not to muse over the past, of the only thing he could have screwed up, that he swore he made right so long ago. A university interview room was the last place any of this should be coming up.

     He wasn't prepared for the woman's answer.

     "Now, we will still look into your history, if that's what you wish, if you believe you've been falsely accused. But you do see the issue that bullying allegations bring up for our university's reputation, don't you?"

     It ends with not a text, but a warning.

     The chime was so soft, it could go unnoticed. The boy could check it whenever he pleased, skim over a ramble of words he had nothing to do with, and go about his day as if nothing had ever happened. Nothing about this notification was supposed to have the potential to change lives.

     The number was unrecognizable and the words, even more so.

     Watch your back. You're going to pay.

     It ends with not a text, but a confrontation.

     The boy felt shadows descending upon him. Shadows with vaguely familiar faces. Faces he saw for a moment and now saw forever.

     One of the shadows smirked. "Long time no see, kid."

     He wasn't one anymore, hadn't been one for a long time, unfortunately.

     "What... do you want?" he chose to ask, while his nerves remained intact.

     The smile of the shadows grew wider. The one at the front of the pack pulled up a phone, a single face on the displayed photo.

     The boy wasn't surprised. But that didn't stop the terror.

     The shadows spoke again, one of them, but they all blended together. Their voices sounded like exhilaration, maybe even freedom, and the boy hated himself for recognizing it all too well.

     "Look, we think you know our friend here, and we also think you don't want him hurt. So do as we say, and we'll consider his favour repaid, okay?"

     It ends with not a text, but sirens.

     The boy heard them again, for the first time after so long. After eternity, really.

     But the door creaked open and he could no longer drown them out. The noise swallowed him whole as red and blue shifted past his eyes and clashed at every odds possible.

     A man looked down on him and smiled solemnly. His eyes wavered, carrying so much, maybe even the hint of a guilt that seemed to be destroying him with every step he was still able to take in the world.

     "I'm so sorry. If I could turn back time, I would fix everything."

     But the boy knew enough about sirens to know that they were here to stay. And he was an idiot for ever thinking otherwise.

     It ends with not a text, but a finality.

     It was typed out over the yells echoing through the walls, over the ringing in the boy's ears. He sat with his back hunched over, shoulders tensed in pain as he awaited the shattering of glass, the slamming of doors, the stains of tears on the kitchen floor. He knew it would never come. The two people downstairs knew the line, loved him enough, shockingly, to respect it.

     That made it worse. Like walking on thin ice that would never break, but would always leave him cold and hollow. There was no escape. He typed out his text with frostbitten fingers.

     If nobody cares enough to talk anymore, so be it.

     He closed his laptop with a slam and felt tears melt down his face like icicles. Still, he wouldn't regret this for a long, long, time. The war down the stairs ensured it.

     It ends with a text.

     A simple one, really. Only one of them got it. But it calmed storms.

     I'm okay.

     They weren't. But it was a small comfort. A ripple in the ocean, if they wanted to get poetic, because maybe it would distract them from being pulled under any second.

     Beginnings are long but endings are quick. Like a lightning strike, because someone always, always, gets hurt.

     All there's left is to drift through life, some happier than others, some even happier than ever. All there's left is to tip over the dominos and watch it all fall down.

     But life just isn't that simple, is it?

     Because as the curtains close, one by one, an ending is written, but something new, strangely, uncomfortably, new, is just beginning.

     This is only the beginning and years pass before they even realize it.