Long Distance Call | tayley ✓

7 | Alone

{tw!!! self-harm mentions}

[Taylor]

"And just down the road, yeah," I keep my eyes glued to my phone's screen as it leads me to the apartment building that I'll be calling home from now on.

Kat pulls right in front of the entrance of the building. I look over to her, my teeth digging into my lower lip. "Thank you. Hey, uh, it's cool if I call you sometime, right? I don't know anyone else here, obviously," I trail off. She nods.

"Anytime, Taylor. I'll be a bit busy for the next week or so. But don't hesitate to call!" Her smile is enough to light up our dim surroundings, a smile in which I return.

I exit the car, gather my things that I had put in the backseat, and weakly give Kat one final wave of goodbye. Within seconds, she's off, her car soon turning the corner so that she's completely out of my view. Holding my bags, I make my way to the front entrance of the building. It's a bit more than I should have settled for, but, hey, I'll be making more money than I did back at home in Nashville, where I was employed as a recreational soccer referee. I didn't make all too much, but I made some money, nonetheless. I made enough, especially considering didn't have many responsibilities, so that I was able to save up. I've already exchanged plenty of my US dollars to the national currency here. A lot of the money that I had made previously went towards buying myself a car, which I realize wasn't too smart considering I won't be driving it much.

Now I sit in my empty apartment. Great, this'll be fun. My family had sent over furniture a bit before my move, and it's supposed to be delivered tomorrow. Will it be? I hope so.

But I do have a lot of clothes. I unpack some of my belongings, most of them. Many things are meant to be here, along with all my furniture. Also, a car. Need a car. I was planning on leasing one, so I'll make sure to do that.

The night is quite an adventure. A bed? Nah. Screw that. I throw a bunch of clothes into a pile on the floor to form some sort of makeshift bed. Falling asleep certainly isn't easy, either. I sleep on the carpeted flooring, clothes beneath my body and head.

It's past two in the morning when my eyes finally close for the final time of the night. If not for my utter exhaustion, it would surely be near impossible to sleep as soundly as I do. A bed would beat whatever this makeshift kind of bed thing is, but it's surprisingly more comfortable than I imagined it would be. It's my exhaustion making me believe that, I know it. If I sleep here, in this spot on a night where I'm well-rested, I won't be so comfortable.

—

I wake half past eleven, the busy cars disturbing my peaceful slumber. For a split second, I forget where it is that I am. And then it hits me. Here I am, in England, thousands of miles from my family and friends. Staring up at the ceiling of my apartment, it suddenly feels rather difficult to breathe. If anyone were here, I'd shake my feelings off. But here all alone, I let it be. A few soft noises leave my lips as tears stream down my face.

Five or so minutes into the crying, I hear the ringing of my phone. Who the fuck. Leave me alone. I reach for my cell and hold it up to see who's bothering me at this time.

Kat is. Okay, fine. I wipe eyes, and clear my throat so that my voice doesn't come out shaky, to show that I've been crying.

"Hello?" My voice comes out deeper than intended. But from what I can tell, I sound fine.

"I understand that you may be busy today, getting used to the move and whatever else you've got goin' on. But if you can, how'd you like to come down to a bar that my friends and I enjoy going to? I can introduce you to them," her pleasant accent is prominent with every word she speaks. I sigh and take a moment to consider things. Public outings certainly aren't a thing I'm big on, but not having friends here isn't going to help make my future here all too enjoyable.

I realize I've been thinking about this for too long when Kat speaks up. "You still there?" she asks, and I'm snapped back to reality.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I'll go. Text me the details? Where it is and everything. I'll see you," I can hear her about to say something else, but I hang up anyway. Good job, T.

I stand up from my makeshift bed, already regretting that I slept that way. My back would be screaming at me if that were possible.

Making my way out of the living room that I had chosen last night as the perfect temporary sleeping location, I enter the bathroom. In the mirror that is above the sink, I'm instantly reminded of all the things I find to be imperfections within myself. My hand runs down my front, pausing at the deepest scar. It's right above my navel. My hand traces the now white line, and I'm quickly reminded of how it came to be.

It wasn't all too rational, now that I look back on it. But neither is self-harm in general, is it? It came to be in my sophomore year of high school. My team had made it to the final round of the playoffs — the game right before the championship. We were up by two goals until I allowed our opposition to score two goals in three minutes. With less than a minute remaining, I allowed a third one. We lost and I wasn't let off easy. My dad was angry, my teammates were mad, the coach was mad. Some of my teammates wouldn't even talk to me.

In all reality, it wasn't entirely my fault. The defense hadn't done a good job of keeping the other offense away. And yes, I should have blocked them. And that's how I thought of it at the time. My mistake was all I focused on. I was so angry with myself that I took it out on myself. And now I have that scar, the one that was deeper than the others of that night, a constant reminder of what I'd done to myself.

I don't spend too much longer dwelling on my past. I walk out of the bathroom, back to where my bags lay in my boring living room. In the section of one bag where I had chosen to keep my toiletries, I retrieve a small tube of toothpaste, my toothbrush, hairbrush, and the small bottles of shampoo, body soap, and conditioner I had brought along with me.

I spend a few minutes playing with the shower, trying to figure out how in the hell it works. After some time, it turns on. When my hand goes under the water, I discover it's a lot hotter than I'd like. I crank it some more, too cold. Finally, I figure it out. Though a bit too chilly for my liking, I'll deal.

Following my slightly uncomfortable shower, I get dressed. That outfit consists of a baggy, black North Face sweatshirt, a pair of black jeans, and black vans. I contemplate wearing a hat, but decide against it. Let the curls free, I decide.

As if perfectly on time, when I'm about to leave my apartment to go out to get myself a vehicle, my things show up. All of my furniture is brought up and I sign for it. Lucky for me, most of it is carried inside the apartment, though left in the living room. I thank the men that had carried the furniture inside, tip the movers generously, and wait for them to leave. By the time they're gone, it's nearing 2 PM. I text my mom.

Taylor: Hey, mom. I really miss you already. I hope I don't bother you and wake you up. I don't want to make you text or call me all too much, because those costs won't be all too much fun to pay. I love you, it's scary to be all alone.

I send the message and sigh. Moments later, I receive a reply.

Mom: we miss you so much, Tay! You woke me up, but don't feel bad about that, I needed to get up anyway. And I'll talk to you however much I want, I don't care about the cost. Love you, T.

I smile after reading her reply. But then I recall the fact that I'm without her. I sigh.

I feel so alone in this place.