A/N: Alrighty, something new. It's taking me longer to get my novels up due to the Powers That Be (i.e.- the Olympics and packing for England), so this is going to fill the gap while it lasts. No planned updating schedule, but there will be multiple chapters. Anyway, hope you enjoy. =)

Phone Call

She gets the call at 8:24 pm. The tiny blinking clock in the bottom corner of her computer screen tells her so. She picks up the receiver, says "hello," prepares to estimate how much this is going to set her back on her chemistry homework. A calm voice – a voice she doesn't recognize – echoing in her ear, telling her something… something she doesn't want to hear.


Her stomach turns inside-out. She feels sick. Vision is failing, lungs are collapsing, everything in her body is shutting down like lights during a massive power outage. Thoughts climb aboard a merry-go-round and all she can think is –

Gone. Fingers unclench; phone falls and hits the floor: thud. The sound feels like her heart hitting the bottom of her ribcage.

Everything is black, she can't move. Now everything turns white, she can't stay still. Up, out of the desk chair, knees snapping to a military march. Two steps, roadblock: bed. Forty-five degree turn. One step, roadblock: closet. Forty-five degree turn. Three steps, roadblock: wall. Forty-five degree turn. Door…

Her eyesight mutilates the hallway: narrow, wide; dim, bright; short, long; empty, full; gone, gone. Strings dangling from the ceiling like tatters…tatters…tatters of life. Life is gone. Gone.

Doors. Two doors. Two adjoining doors, which one to pick? Pick which one? Outside, inside? Left, right? Left. Nothing is right. Through the door. Dimness. Darkness. Death. Doors. Left, right? Right. Right is better. Everything's alright. Silver sliding lock. Slip. Snap. Still. Silence.

She stares, silently, into the shadows…shock fades, silently, into the shadows… standing, silently, inside the shadows…sobbing, softly, into the shadows…shattering sorrow…gone, gone, gone.

Hands press onto the walls for support, left foot forward, back against the closed door. Still she is sobbing: gone, gone. Her stomach churns again, another wave of nausea. Maybe she'll throw up into the toilet. Maybe it will make her feel better. Maybe nothing will make her feel better. Nothing will make her feel better. Nothing. Gone.

Happiness. She had happiness. They were happiness. They are gone.

She is choking on tears, locked in a miniscule cell with Misery: unable to move, no way to escape. Her hands are glued to the walls, her feet to the floor, her back to the door, she screams. Shrieks. Sobs. Time passes: tick, tock. Her watch is chiding her: tick, tock. Telling her it's time to get off the phone and get back to chemistry homework. Break's over. She breaks the watch. The watch they gave her. Breaks her heart. Her heart is gone.

Wrenching her hands from the walls, her feet from the floor, her back from the door she turns. Slides the silver lock – back. Opens the swinging door – back. Through the door, into a brighter dimness. Through the door, into a brighter dimness. Right, left? Left. Nothing is right. Through the left door that was once the right door, going somewhere, going out there, gone.

Night. All is dark. All is deep. Like navy blue oil paint. Like death. Dark like death, cold like death, gone with death. Wind freezes tears on her face: specks of shattered ice. Shattered. Wind sings a morbid lullaby, stepping in for the cloud-covered moon. Almost… She is almost as high as the moon. One more inch and she will reach through the gray mist and touch its pale face…face pale with horror. Standing on a balcony, frozen fingers clamped on the tarnished rail, watching blindly. Night. Never-ending night. Night never ends. Ends. Never. Gone.

Which foot first? Right, left? Right. Right is better. Everything will be alright. Now the left. They left her. She will leave. Leave now. She stands upright on the tarnished rail, disregarding what is left. They are – gone. Gone. Happiness is – gone. Gone. Love is – gone. Gone.

Her life is –