one missed call

one hundred - five

he knocks on the door and waits 3 seconds before entering.

"north..?" he stares.

"sit," she gestures toward the couch by the window.

he continues staring before remembering his will to move.

"you're shocked."

"well yeah."

"i listened to your voicemails."

"oh."

"did you mean them?"

"what?"

"did you mean them? every one of them?"

"yes, every single one."

she sighs. "i've just been watching. watching. and watching. why won't everyone just let me die?"

"you've been conscious the whole time?"

she looks down at her slender hands. "real: i was in a coma. not real: i was unresponsive."

"how could you do that, north? putting everyone in more hell even longer?"

she looks back up. "it felt like being dead already. and that's all i wanted from the beginning, to be dead."

"why? what is so desirable about death to you?"

"it's... it's just this urge—you wouldn't understand it anyways."

"so tell me."

"we both know we shouldn't even be talking to each other, never should've after... you know what."

"i know alright. but i know something else too, something i knew since we were nine, before the whole nathan tragedy, before we stopped being friends, when i became anonymous, when you got hit by that truck and until now when you're awake. i love a girl who hates herself so much it's unbearable to stick around and watch but i do stay, north, because that's what loving you is gonna be, painful but... just. i love a girl who's sitting right in front of me." he blinks, "but i'm afraid she will never believe me."

she stares up at him and cries "why won't you just let me die?"