Stalls ✔️

T E N

Click here: http://w.tt/1MgFQgC to read Wren's perspective, which my friend is writing. Vote and comment! -Mable Faviago ©

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It was a sleepless night. I couldn't stop the thoughts buzzing around my undeserved mind. My eyes had adjusted to the pitch black surroundings. Distinctly, I could make out the shadow of my blinds cascading across my sky blue walls when cars drove by with their blinding headlights.

I slipped my phone from my bedside table, gripping my lips with my teeth, as my hand slid across the prickly spikes of my cactus, and dialed Wren's phone number.

"Hello, this is Wren and I can't make it to the phone right now, but-" Wren greeted playfully through the phones speaker.

To interrupt, I giggled in a hushed tone. "Come on Wren, I know you answered the phone."

"Alright baby girl, you got me," I heard a smirk form on her lips (it is possible, I promise you). "Are you alright? Is something wrong? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I couldn't sleep.. I have a lot of stuff on my mind right now, but I was wondering..." I paused.

My eyes darted across the seemingly monochrome room to check for any human life form on the landing; it seemed to concern my parents just how many hours after dark I spent on my phone. When it was clear, I continued, "What exactly are we?"

"I'm not exactly sure what you mean, Al." She spoke in a questioning tone. I heard a can crunch raucously. Therefore, I figured that she was wide awake via the bulky supply of Monster and video games.

I pulled out all my confidence, all my grace and capability to utter seven significant words. "I'm saying, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course I will." She stated. A humongous smile formed on my lips, my stomach bubbling joyfully. "One condition though," she added.

"What's that?" The minority of the smile faded gracefully into the midst of night.

"You let me take you to the school counsellor tomorrow, like you promised me a few weeks ago, please?"

"Would it make you happy?" I replied doubtfully.

"Extremely." She paused, dying in the game. She bellowed fiercely, like the roar of a tiger.

I pictured her mentally, with her back arched against her bedroom wall uncomfortably; her phone between her shoulder and her mop of raven hair. I imagined the control clutched tightly between her fingers and her eyebrows arched in complete game mode.

Eventually, she spoke again, "Sorry about that. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, alright. Meet me outside of the art corridor at dinner time then?" I arranged. A sigh seeped from my dehydrated lips.

"Sure, goodnight Alana. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She spoke tranquilly.

"Okay. Goodnight Wren." I whispered, and cut the line.

Back to the silence, back to the thoughts. I'd have to face hell again tomorrow, and every person in between the spectrum that I wanted to eradicate from my memories of tonight. I wanted to forget every single moment from tonight, except for one. That one was obvious.

I knew I wasn't going to the counsellor in aid of myself, but for Wren. I wanted that so much not to be true, but it was. Who knows, though? Perhaps this could be the first few miles on the road to my recovery. Perhaps.