The Voicemail, Part 3
Title: The Voicemail, Part 3
A/N: This is an unbeta’d quickie continuation of a series written with @kateyes224 . Please read parts 1 and 2 listed below, so that you have an idea of what the hell is going on.
With each step she takes, shooting pain jolts through the center of her heels as she finally enters her dark apartment. There’s a staleness to the silence now, a product of entering single-living territory again, a lifestyle of chosen loneliness she hasn’t experienced for many years. Each minute of her thirty-six hour shift sits heavily in her lumbar region, aching with ferocity as she shrugs off her coat and slings it over the back of a rarely used dining room chair.
Her phone pings loudly, its alert slicing through the quiet to announce a missed call and a voicemail. She glances at the notification, fully expecting to see another summoning from the hospital, and she grips the chair as her knees buckle.
Her cheeks flush pink with brewing embarrassment as she thinks back to a few weeks earlier, snippets of a drunkenly induced voicemail she had left him run muddily through her mind. She had been drinking that night with the sole intention of getting drunk, an impulsion she hadn’t conceded to since her rebellious teenage years, and played his voicemail thirteen times, having memorized each line around the seventh or eighth. Each time she hit ‘replay’ she was another vodka and splash of cranberry juice deeper, soaking in every venomous word he spoke.
She has no memory of thumbing through her contacts and finding his number, or pressing the ‘call’ button. She doesn’t remember hearing it ring or being directed to voicemail. The words that had erroneously poured from her liquored mouth, however, come back in hazy fragments.
“I wanted to abort my son. You know why? Because you were gone.”
“How do you find a way to be everything and nothing to me at the same time?”
“I hate that I love you. I hate myself for loving you. You’re like a disease.”