Halfway through the phone number, I lost my nerve and jabbed a single finger against the red button. I shoved my phone aside, but couldn’t quite find the gumption to chunk the thing against the wall.
I threw it against a pillow instead. A tiny second passed.
A calm one. Because it was filled to the brim with relief. Even though that time would pass, I could find a second of solace.
I lunged for it, caught it even before it ended its trip. I held it tight in one hand. It creaked, clicked, and strained with my unhinged grip. I stopped before there was damage. I brought the screen to light.
The number. Only a couple of digits, but each tap of the screen created a rush through my body and mind.
The last number cycled.
The message played–
The screams–
I recognized every one of them. And sifted through to find the one that mattered.
I heard it. I froze. Listened to it again and again. Occasionally launching the phone due to my own cowardice.
The screams–
This time was for that extra bit of push, to solidify my own desires, to drill into my soft tissue that I should have handled everything from the beginning.
The screams–
They were all gone.
Except for me.
The screams–