writers. / harry styles ( DISCONTINUED )

six

The Call
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s i x ;

My hands were shaking as I held the phone to my chest, feeling my racing heartbeat through my fingertips that were damp with my tears from minutes before. I wanted to slow my heart down and slow my breathing before I talked to Lydia. I didn't want her to think I was even more unstable than I already was.

Louis' eyes were burning into me like poison against my skin. I only caught his eyes once, but that glance revealed so many emotions that he was keeping in. Sadness. Anger. Nostalgia. He was scared, worried, and one more thing.

   He felt love.

   I was thankful for him and his years and years of loyalty to me and caring for me like a twin brother, though we look nothing alike. He was the closest thing I had to family now, and even before what happened, I still thought of him as some of the closest family I've ever had.

   "Her number is programmed in the phone," Louis whispered, his eyes glancing down at the phone still clutched to my chest before meeting my eyes once again. He saw exactly what I was thinking like a goddamned mind reader. "Don't be scared. I promise I'll be here for you through whatever happens after this phone call."

   I nodded, filling my air with lungs and exhaling before taking the phone from my chest and beginning to scroll though the phone's contacts.

   'Lydia W.' was written there in the L section. I pressed on her contact and let my thumb hover over the 'Call' button for a tedious amount of time before finally psyching myself up and pressing down on the screen, bringing it up to my ear.

   My hands were shaking still, but my heart was beating at a normal pace and I was confident my voice wouldn't crack on me mid-conversation; or so I hoped.

   Before long, her sweet, lovely voice rang though the phone. Usually calming, but this situation made her answer have the opposite effect. "Hello, this is Lydia Wills, how may I help you?"

   I paused, swallowing down the nervous lump that had formed in my throat. "Hey, Lydia. It's me, Marcella."

   And with that, a gasp rang through the phone as she answered. "Marcella Roland? Mars?"

   I nodded for a split second before remembering she couldn't see me and answered with a small, delicate, "yes."

   "Oh, dear. It's been so long since I've heard from you. How have you been?" She asked, her voice holding a bit of excitement but also tried to stay calm and collected, like most psychiatrists usually would. Lydia was almost like a helpful aunt to me at one time, before she left and I was cut off of my treatment and put on my meds. But, soon after, I lost those, too. It was pretty bad, to be honest.

   "Um," I caught my breath, sighing deeply into the phone, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Not so good, actually," I said, exchanging a look with Louis who was sitting intently across from me, listening closely. He wanted me to be fully honest with her, and I wasn't going to let him down.

   "Oh, why's that?" Lydia asked, I could hear rustling in the speaker and I could tell she was pulling out a pen and pad of paper. Or maybe even her journal.

   "Well, I..." I trailed off, making eye contact with Louis again to get some sort of strength to spit the words out. "I had an episode yesterday."

   Lydia fell silent, scribbling with a pen was the only thing I heard for many seconds.

   "Oh, Mars," she said with sympathy and maybe a hint of pity. I sighed, smiling the best I could but failing miserably, making Louis and I both exchange a sad look.