A Loser With A Cellphone (Alex Standall)

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Alex had those nights sometimes - Where the house was eerily quiet, both his parents were at work, and he couldn't be arsed to meet up with his friends. That left him home alone with nothing but his thoughts, and they often sprung out of his control before he even knew where they were going. But, like clockwork, they always ended up in the same place: Hannah's death. And the part that he played in it.
Alex hated that everyone tiptoed around what had happened, as if to make it easier on themselves - Hannah died, not Hannah committed suicide. But Alex knew the truth, and it was a weight that he carried with himself day in and day out. He was a prisoner with a chain wrapped around his ankle, and there was no way of escaping. The sadness, of course, was a side effect, and one that was making itself present more and more often.
One that never went away, because he was finding that his friends didn't really give a shit. That he was a little disgusted to even call them friends. A mental record of the tapes played over and over in his head, and he was driven to the brink by realizing how many ways things could've gone differently. Realizing that, if he hadn't written her name under best ass - if he had simply managed to say hello to her in the hallways sometimes - she would still be here.
He carried a murderer's guilt, and he found himself longing for the death penalty. After all, why did he deserve to be alive after all of the terrible things he had done? The way he was looking at it, he didn't, but he didn't have anybody to talk to about it. Nobody but...
He looked down at his phone. Surely it was too soon to try and call her again, right? But he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts anymore. He didn't know what would happen. So, hands trembling, he pressed "call" to the only person he could trust.
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I'm so sorry that I forgot to update yesterday!! But oh my gosh, 8k reads? Thank you for everyone who votes & comments, I see and appreciate everything x