A Loser With A Cellphone (Alex Standall)

97

Alex's phone had been pinging with texts and calls from Lyric all day, but he couldn't bring himself to pick it up. He knew that if he read them, he would change his mind. And maybe that should've been reason enough for him to break his plans - For him to go to school, to do his stupid deposition. But that would also mean subjecting himself to a lifetime of mulling over his mistakes, of day after grueling day of misery, being surrounded by people who only made him feel more disgusting. He knew that he could just cut them off, but he no longer had the energy to do so.
The night before, his father had told him that he was proud of him. The words had felt like being stabbed in his chest - The golden, coveted words rewarded from his dad, but words that he did not deserve. There was nothing for his father to be proud of. His son was a coward, too afraid to tell Hannah's story, too afraid of live his own.
He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night, and time was beginning to blur together. He had been procrastinating the task, but it was time to get his shit together. He didn't want to make a giant show of it like Hannah did - He would go quietly, as living proof that as much as people liked to put on a great show that they cared now that something terrible had happened, they didn't really. He wouldn't write a note, or a list of reasons.
His head pounded as he got up off of his bed, listening to his own breathing, feeling his chest move up and down. Somewhere within him, his heart was beating. And he suddenly knew, without a doubt, that he had to at least give Lyric an apology. He didn't care about anyone else on earth, but he owed her that much.
Along with her increasingly frantic messages were a slew from Zach, including a string asking him to call him. He couldn't bear talking to Lyric, but maybe, just maybe, talking to Zach would prove to him that suicide wasn't worth it. That the other reasons why had done what was right for Hannah. Because, he had decided, that was the only thing that would stop him from putting the gun to his head.
He typed out "Please call," and waited for his phone to ring.