It was June, a bright sunny morning. Dillan woke up that day, feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep. He was sitting in a small bedroom, in a small house, that was much too elegant for its size.
The phone rang. "Agghh, who could this be?" He looked for the phone, but it was sitting on the table. It wasn't ringing. It was... in his head, he realized.
"what's going on... how...?" he asked himself. It only grew louder, despite his attempts to ignore it.
He heard a voice. "Oh, Dillan, you know what this is." It was too familiar. It laughed dementedly. "I am the evidence of what you've been trying to hide for years..."
"What? No... it can't be..." the ringing continued.
"You remember our happy times? When we lived together? But, no... you abandoned all of it. That last phone call before my fate... you never answered it. But, hey, I can wait."
"No... this can't be..." He stumbled around the house, and the ringing grew louder in his ears. "How..." He was hoping to find a way out of the madness, the memories of the blood-stained walls and the guilt-filled years of his terrible past flooding him. It was as if he was the ark, and his secrets the great flood God placed on the earth. But he knew it wouldn't go away. His wife, and his secret, he realized, were to be with him forever. He couldn't run, nor could he hide. But despite this, he ran away from his now empty home, only to fall and curl up, trying to stop the insistent ringing. He did so on his wife's grave, not far from the house where they used to live together. The house was before fate took over, and before the endless years of suffering that followed his wife's death.
The voice turned to anger. "You know what you did to me... and now, it's time to pay the price. You made me fall, and now, after all this time, i'll do the same. Be prepared for an avalanche."
"No... Please..." he stuttered, the ringing only grew louder. He felt something burst, though he still heard the insistent repetition. "I didn't mean to... It... wasn't my... fault..."
He felt the life shatter out of his fragile body, and his soul seemed to rip apart every time he heard the bursting sound of his phone. His life was coming to an end.
---
A week later, the police found him, dead, curled up, his head in his knees. He had been bleeding internally, and his eardrums had been shattered beyond any recognition.
No one's found out since then. It was labeled as a suicide.
