The Phone Call

Part 2

Fifteen Years Later

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"Hey Betty," a man says bending down to kiss his wife on the cheek.

She sits still and emotionless. "Fifteen years ago I killed my daughter," she whispers.

The man feels tears in his own eyes, "fifteen years ago, my daughter tried to kill me."

"It wasn't her trying to kill you, it was that monster," the woman tells him in a shaky voice. She remembers the funeral, lying to everyone that her daughter tripped and hit her head against a rock. Everyone dressed in black, her young daughter lying in a coffin with closed eyes. The woman had gone up to the open casket, not even trying to hold back the tears. The broken part of her daughter's head was covered by flowers, so you couldn't see the ugliness. The woman had whispered her apologies, telling her daughter how much she loves her.

To anyone looking on, it was a distraught mother, looking down at her child's body. Except something strange happened, she could have sworn her daughter smiled at her, a taunting grin. The woman had given a loud mangled cry. But when she looked back down, her daughter's dead lips were in a straight, formal, line.

"That monster is gone," her husband tells her now. The woman looks up at him, her face is pale, but no tear stains grace her face.

"I know," she tells him standing up shakily. "I'm fine," she says, as he puts a hand on her elbow to steady her.

The man pulls the woman in for a hug. She almost smiles, she almost forgets about her daughter. Almost.

"Will you try to get better with me?" the man asks, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Yes," the woman promises. They stare at each other for a few seconds.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The phone interrupts their silence.

They pull apart, and the man picks up his phone. An unfamiliar number is calling. He answers.

"Hello?" he asks.

A female voice comes over the phone, "hello, is this the CEO of Greendales bank?" the voice asks.

"Yes," the man says glancing at his wife.

A heavy breath came over the other end. "Okay, I'm going to need to schedule an appointment with you. You see my parents died in a car accident today.. I'm hoping to get that money transferred to my account."

The man nods pulling a pad of paper off the counter. He hands it to his wife, "write down the info," he mouths. She nods, pulling a pencil from her pocket.

"Great," he says in a cheery voice. "You'll just have to tell me your bank account number and we can transfer it right now if you'd like. That way you wouldn't need to make an appointment."

"Really?" the voice says pleased, "well in that case I'll just do it right now."

The man nodded, "sounds great," he replied. "Can you tell me your name and age please?" His wife's hand hovers the pencil over the paper ready to jot it down.

"Elise Blackwood," the voice replies, "I'm 19 years old."

The woman's hand freezes as she's halfway done writing the name. The man doesn't respond. The line is silent.

"Hello? Are you still there?" the voice asks.

The man and woman don't speak.

"Jonas!, the bank isn't responding," the voice calls to someone on her side.

The couple hears a man's voice now on the line. "Hello?" the new voice says.

The woman is the one that speaks this time as she speaks, "your dead," her voice wavers.

Again, the line is silent, until the female voice on the other side speaks, "I'm not dead, I said my parents died in a car accident today, that's why I'm trying to transfer their money to my account," the voice speaks slowly as if speaking to a toddler.

"Hey, Elise, just hang up, maybe call someone else to help you," the man on the other end says.

"Sure," the female voice replies.

Then the call ends abruptly, they had hung up.

The woman slowly turns her face to her husband, "I killed my daughter."

The man shakes his head, "your daughter just talked to us."

They sit there in silence pondering that thought, silent tears slipping down their cheeks.

"It was probably a prank call," the man decides. "Stupid kids, trying to get a laugh out of us."

"Yeah," the woman says. Her voice is soft.