Alex's breathing pattern became distorted as he thought about Faith coming over. He should never have told her, that much was sure - He regretted it with every raggedy breath that he managed to painfully take in.
He lay in a fetal position as if in physical pain, gripping a pillow against his chest. He knew that he would have to move soon - It was one thing to tell somebody a small snippet of what you felt over text, and an entirely different thing for them to see it play out face to face.
He supposed that he could try and do it now, make it simple, have it be over, but that left too much room for flaws. He didn't want her to see him like that, and he didn't want to make the wrong shot out of fear. Even now his hands were shaking. If he tried, he wanted it to work. He didn't want to live to see how people would react.
And although he had tried to make it sound as if it was still a choice via messages, he had made his mind up - On the day of his deposition, he would shoot himself with one of his father's guns. At Monet's, the other reasons had discussed what they planned to do, and some of their reactions physically repulsed him. They would never learn, he knew, and he felt like the scum of the earth for ever dedicating his time to be with them. To be friends with them. To know that he was one of them. To know that he had killed his friend.
He had killed Hannah Baker, because, truth be told, he hadn't acted like much of a friend to her at all.
He had killed Hannah Baker, and now he was going to kill himself.
--
I finished planning out all of the chapters (cri) and there's gonna be 100 in all
we're so close to the end 😪
but you guys have honestly made this story so much fun to write and I lOve yOu aLl
YOU ARE READING
A Loser With A Cellphone (Alex Standall)
Hayran Kurgu"Hello?" "Who is this?" "I found your number on the bandroom floor..." started: may 12, 2017 finished: september 17, 2017
