The Call

The Call
February 7, 2007

She was going to kill herself.

It was decided. Life was going so badly. School was a mess, and her social life was in the trash along with her broken dignity. Her friends had abandoned her, and her family was totally clueless. Even she didn't know who she was anymore. The bedsprings creaked as she sat back on the pink bedspread. She reached into the small, white pill box.

25 pills. Enough to cause a lethal overdose in an elephant. She tipped them out onto her hand, the split-colors tumbling out onto her pale palm. There they were, her gateway, her escape.

She plugged one into her mouth, chasing it down with another one, and a gulp of water. The drowsiness began to take effect. Her mind swirled with memories of her friends. Her family. Her life, her sadness, her despair all seemed to fade away at once...

She poked another one between her reddened lips. The capsule pushed past teeth, rolled across her tongue, and fell the unfathomable distance into her throat. She took another one.

Her eyes began to tear up. Thick salty drops fell onto her palm, and she tasted the tears with the next pill she swallowed. Her hands began to shake. Another one.

Another one. And one more. Each pill was harder to swallow. Her throat clogged with tears, her body shaking violently as she rocked herself back and forth with increasing rapidity.

One more would be a lethal overdose. The point of no return, the invisible line that seperated life from death. She looked at the pill. Her only chance to turn back.

She swallowed the pill.

The phone rang. At first, she thought it was her fading mind, her grip on the concious world slowly loosening its hold. But no, it was really the bedside phone, ringing away like Death's messenger. For whom the bells toll...

She sat, cross-legged in her loose nightgown, legs awkwardly and haphazardly slumped. The phone rang, and rang. It rang, until she could bear the tension no longer, and snatched the phone up.

With her quickly failing life, she whispered. "H-Hello?"

A burst of static squealed from the other end, and the soft buzz of a disconnected line met her ear. With a sob and a sigh, she turned to hang up the handset.

"zzzzzzDOzzNOz-AAAA-HELLO?" A voice screamed from within the phone.

"H-hello?" With the unexpected link of human contact, she was suddenly desperate to talk to someone, anyone, before she passed on. "Hel-Hello?"

"zzzzzISzzzDON'TzzzzNOzzzz" A voice emanated as if from inside a long tunnel. "zzzzzzzCALLzzzNOzzzAzz- DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO -"

And with that, the line died. She set the handset down by her side.

She sobbed, confused and scared, once again, a young girl. Then she picked up the phone. Tapping the disconnect switch, she dialled emergency services.

"He-Hello?" She whispered, her voice a mere shadow. "I- I took some pills, and- and I think I... I think I need some help..."

***


10 years later, she walked into her new apartment condo. Her boyfriend lugged the boxes behind as she set her handbag on the new countertop.

"Just set them down there. Thanks a bunch hon, I'm going to go snoop around." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before bounding upstairs.

The rooms were all empty, vacated by the previous owners. As she walked through the blank hallways, the children's room jumped out at her. If all went well, there would be someone to fill that spot in just a few years. She twisted the engagement ring on her finger anxiously.

There was also that other part of her too. She stood in the doorway of the kid's bedroom. For a second, she saw a younger version of herself, planted on a pink bed, dressed in a thin slip: gaunt, forsaken, ready to die. She shuddered, and the vision passed.

For years, she had always wondered about that mysterious call that had not only saved her life, but had given her a second chance. She had never told anyone about it, not even her closest friends. But she was ever grateful. Unspeakably so.

Passing into another room, she was surprised to see that not everything was gone. The previous owners had left an object in the middle of the room, attached to the wall by a thin cord. A single telephone, of the antique variety. Spin-dial, made of brass, very ornate and unique.

Playfully, she took a seat beside it. She admired the designs, the shapes and spirals, the hook of the handpiece and the rounded edges of the base. Then she picked it up and held it to her ear.

A soft voice came through the line. "H-Hello?"