Free Fall || Dylan O'Brien Fanfiction

five: falling

Ana told Luke that she was pregnant pretty much the second he walked in the door, and he was so happy that he tripped as he was running to hug her. Luke has the metal lip ring, and when he fell he hit it against the floor so hard that it bent. He busted his lip, and Ana and I both had to sit down from laughing so hard. He pulled the damaged metal out of his lip, and he looked so conflicted. Of course, he was happy, but he also seemed genuinely concerned that he broke his lip ring, and that there was a ton of blood on the floor.

I left so they could have some time alone, and as I was leaving, Ana said, "Luke, we can't celebrate with sex when I'm pregnant! Can we?"

-

The next night, as I'm shuffling down the concrete sidewalk on my way home from work, I get a call from my mother.

Yes, this is a normal thing for most people. Most people are very close with their families, and welcome calls from them.

I'm not one of those people.

Seeing her name on my phone screen makes me cringe. There's been lots of bad history between the two of us since my dad died. I also haven't spoken to her in years.

The last time she called me, it was to remind me what a worthless piece of crap I am, and how I killed her husband, and how I'm going to end up on the streets, and that I can't come see her for Christmas. Or Thanksgiving, or Easter, or her birthday, or my birthday. That she'll disown me if she ever has to see my face again.

Why? I don't know. I think the behavior is plain psychotic.

Of course, I'm not the kind of person who actually believes people when they say things like that to me, but when it comes from your own parent, it hurts. I'd also just decline the phone call, but that would probably make her hate me more than she already does, and like I said, it hurts when someone you care about says something like that to you.

"Hello?" I mumble into my phone, squeezing my eyes shut. I'm in one of the coffee shops on the street, on my way home from work. I take a deep breath.

"I can't believe you, Juliette!" she spits. "I can't believe you're such a piece of shit! I bet you're too stupid to realize how worthless you are. This world doesn't need people like you! The world doesn't even want people like you! You don't even have a real job!"

I don't say anything. I don't want to start crying.

"See, look at you. Too stupid to defend yourself." She paused. "Have you talked to your brother lately?" She asks me like she already knows the answer. Like she's mocking me.

"No," I grumble, getting annoyed. I haven't spoken to my brother in years, since I went to collage.

"That's right," she tells me sweetly. "I deleted his number from your phone years ago." It's sickening to hear my own mother sound so pleased about this. She deleted my own brother's number from my phone, and I had no idea. Every time he called me, I didn't answer because it was an unknown number. Well, that's if he called me at all.

"What do you mean, you deleted it?" My voice cracks, and it makes me want to punch myself.

"I didn't want you poisoning him, or his son."

Silence. I wipe my tears away with the back of my sleeve.

"Oh, that's right, you didn't know about that, did you?" I can hear her smiling. "Do you want to know more? Too bad, because I'm not telling you. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it took you so long to realize you didn't have his phone number, though. You're a collage dropout. You don't know shit. And you know what, child? You were just a mistake. My life would be so much better without you. You ruined everything. Why do you even call me? You know I hate you! We both know you're worthless and stupid and slutty! Why don't you just kill yourself? You sho-"

Her words feel like a kick in the ribs. I set my phone on the table. I can hear muffled yelling coming from it, even though my phone isn't on speaker.

I rub my raw eyes with my sleeves, trying to wipe the tears away. Then I drop my head into my hands, feeling defeated.

Not for the first time, I think that maybe she's right.

I don't want to fall down that hole again.

Stop crying! I tell myself. Stop it! Stop being so weak!

I set a five dollar bill on the table next to my half full mug and storm out of the coffee shop, wiping desperate tears from my eyes as I stumble through the crisp air. I wish she was being ridiculous to hate me, to blame me, but she's not. It was all my fault.

I had just gotten my learner's permit, and I was driving home from the store with my dad. I'd driven in a couple vacant parking lots at midnight, but it was my first real time driving on the road with other cars.

I was steering around a curve, and a car had its bright lights on; they blinded me just long enough for me to drive off into the other lane, where the car smacked into us. It hit the passenger side directly, which caused our car to flip off road and into a thick grove of trees.

After suffering major head and neck injuries, my father died at the hospital because I wrecked.

I walked away from the accident with a scratch on my arm and a bruise on my chest from where the air bag hit me.

It was the absolute worst night of my entire life.

I've almost completely pulled myself back together when I reach my apartment. I fumble through my bag for my keys as I march up the sidewalk. I'm hardly paying attention to where I'm going, so it's not much of a surprise when I run smack into a fellow human being.

"Sorry," I mutter, keeping my head down. I try to continue towards the door, but there's suddenly a hand around my waist, pulling me close...

"Juliette, are you okay?"

Dylan.

I close my eyes and burry my tearstained face into his warm chest. Everything comes rushing back at once; I can't help myself. I'm shaking with silent sobs, and Dylan doesn't pull away, he just pulls me closer. "It's okay," he whispers repeatedly into my ear. He rubs my back with one hand and my hair with the other.

I fall silent after a couple minutes. I wrap my arms around Dylan's neck. "I'm sorry," I tell him.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he replies gently, and it makes things seem okay. "Come on, let's go inside."