*~*~*~*~*~*
She sat on the floor, phone in hand, fingers shaking as she dialed a number.
Biting her lip, she tried to calm her nerves.
"C'mon..." she mumbled under her breath as the phone rang once, twice, three times. After 6 rings, it became clear to her that whoever owned the number wasn't going to pickup.
The ringing stopped and she was met with a friendly voice.
"Hey! This is Tyler, I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!" Beep.
She let the phone drop from her hand as she sat and stared off into space.. Her frame shuddered with every intake of breath, from trying to hold back tears. Looking at the long mirror that sat beside her, she was disgusted by what she saw. Normally shiny soft blonde hair was now matted and greasy. Her eyes puffed out and were bloodshot. Makeup was smeared in different places, and she couldn't even remember when she had applied it.
With frantic hands, she picked up her phone again, and dialed the same number. There were eight rings.
Click.
"Hey! This is Tyler, I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!" Beep.
She took a swig of vodka, too lost in her own thoughts to cringe at the burn of it running down her throat. She was never a big drinker. She dialed again, determined to get an answer.
"Hey! This is Tyler, I can't come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!" Beep.
"FUCKING PICK UP!" she screamed at nothing. She threw the now empty bottle of alchohol at the wall opposite her. It smashed into thousands of pieces and scattered around the room. Ridding herself of her anger, she settled for simply sobbing. She was crying so hard that it caused to her puke up what little remained in her stomach.
Finally having enough, she forced herself to stand up and walk into her kitchen. It was filled with dirty dishes that were beginning to mold, and bugs were coming in throught the window and feasting on the spoiled food.
She went to the bottom drawer and reached her hand into the back, where she felt the cool metal of her handgun. Pulling it out, a hysterical grin formed on her face. She walked into the living room, which was just as dirty.
Sitting on the leather couch, she took out her phone and dialed a last time.
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Ring...
Click.
"Hey, this is Tyler, I can't come to the pho-"
She shut the phone.
Putting the gun up to her head, she whispered, "I'm coming for you." before pulling the trigger, and blowing a hole through her skull, spraying blood and brain matter everywhere. She fell limp onto the coffee table, which was empty except for a single newspaper, open to a page with a picture of a smiling couple with writing underneath it.
"Monday October 8th, couple Tyler Henderson (30) and Abigail Peyton (28) were in a horrible car accident on a highway in the outskirts of town. Henderson was killed immediately on impact, while Peyton lived, sustaining minor injuries. No charges will be placed."
~*~*~*~*~*~
