Left With You

Chapter 1: Day 0

It rang.

I hopped off my chair to pick up the old landline phone, it's bright red colour being one of the only things of colour in the not-so-white-washed-anymore apartment.

I heard his voice through the phone, something i definitely wasn't expecting.

"Brielle?" His voice was strained. And he was calling me. Something wasn't right.

"Jonathan? Who the hell-"

"I need you to listen to me, Brielle." His voice was calm as it always was. But then again it was strained. Something wasn't right.

But i brushed it off.

"Brielle, I need you to listen. Joanne and Greg..." He paused.

"What? They what?" I continued to obnoxiously blabber on.

"This better not be some kind of prank."

It probably was some kind of prank, it was Jonathan after all. Since when did Jonathan ever call me? But although these thoughts were running through my mind, somehow, i could already feel my throat closing.

"They...got into a car accident. They're gone."

I stood there. The words didn't make sense. I repeated them in my head.

They're gone.

Gone.

What does that mean?

All i could see was the word 'gone' flashing across my eyes repeatedly. Coming and fading, coming and fading. I could hear myself speak in the background, though i didn't really know what i was saying.
I think it was along the lines of "Stop joking around, you sicko" as disbelief joined both cynicism and sarcasm.

And once i managed to get all the words out my contracting throat, it closed completely and i couldn't talk, and it hurt, and there were tears. Tears tears and tears and i wanted to slam the old phone down into it's base, but my eyes were blurry and every sound i made hurt me and instead my body slammed to the ground, collapsing as the strength was sapped from my legs. I let go of the phone as it dangled from its cord. Its red red cord, the red red phone, bright red all over Joanne. On her face, on her clothes, in her hair, crimson blood everywhere. I was going to be sick.

She was dead.

I was going to be sick, i was going to be sick, i was going to be sick.

I choked on my sobs and almost vomit. It was hard to breathe, so hard to breathe. But what about Joanne? Was it hard for her to breathe? What did she feel? What happened to her right before she knew she was...gone?

There were continued muffled sounds through the lifeless phone hanging by a wire. It sounded like my name was being called, shouted through the phone. I didn't care.

There was banging on my door. I didn't open it, i didn't care. The door opened by itself. Someone barged in, i didn't know who, i didn't care. Someone squat down beside me, putting his large arms around my shoulder that shook vigorously beneath the heavy sobs and cries. I looked through my frosted eye to see Jonathan.

That's weird. He was just on the other end of the line.

I could still hear myself weeping, each sob hurting me more so than the previous one. Had i been crying for an hour? It hurt.

He took me into his arms, i couldn't even fight back, i didn't want to be hugged, i wanted someone to tell me i was overreacting. What are you doing, Brielle? Why are you crying? Jonathan lied about them being gone. They're not dead, of course they're not. She can't be. You know that, he's a liar. A filthy liar.

"You're a filthy liar," i croaked out, pushing him away.

I blinked the tears that were welling up to grant me a clear vision, though no matter how hard i blinked the tears away, everything still seemed a little blurry.

He looked back at me. I couldn't tell if he was crying or if that was just me. Whether it was my tears that made it seem as if he had tears in his own eyes, or whether they were really his own.

He didn't quip back. He looked hurt. He probably looked just like what i was looking like. At that moment we were probably the most similar we would ever be, mirror reflections of hurt.

Then i caught a glance of the red phone again. I threw up.