My phone is sitting on the ground.

It’s screen has been replaced, light sparkles over the clear surface. The whole thing has been put back together, I can barely tell that it was broken. But it’s mine. Marya brought it. She brought it for me. Somehow, she managed to put the broken pieces together and leave me one last gift, one last surprise before I say goodbye.

A wordless sob slips out of of my mouth and I slip my phone in my pocket to stop Mum from seeing it. If she sees it, she’ll take it away. I slip silently upstairs and lock the door to my bedroom, drawing the curtains before I yank my phone out of my pocket and hold the button until the screen lights up. Before I have a chance to click onto my contacts, a little message pops up on my screen.

Alyssa,

It’s Joshua. I was in the classroom the day you found out about your illness. Marya told me about the leukemia, you didn’t tell me, don’t worry. You probably remember me, and you might still be mad at me, but I’m sorry for anything I might have said. My dad repairs electronics for a living, so I saw this on the floor and asked him to fix this. I hope it’s okay with you. I told Marya to give it to you next time she saw you. ">

-Joshua

((0784407825))

I stare at the phone in cold disbelief, running my hands through my hair and trying desperately to get feeling to wash over my numb fingers. It wasn’t Marya. It was him. It was the freak from the classroom, the one who kept insisting that he could fix my problems, that he could be the one to save me, but he couldn’t. No one could. A cold burst of air dribbles down my back, and I pull my knees up against my chest, flipping the message away, and stopping my finger a mere moment away from clicking on Marya’s name.

I want to so desperately...but I can. I can’t call her, can’t find the words to say, the strength to say them. If I call her, she’ll believe that I have something more to say, that what I said earlier wasn’t my final word.

But it was.

I had said exactly what I needed to say. I had sacrificed everything for her. I can’t give up now, I can’t take back my words while there is still hope for Marya to live and thrive without me.

I click off my phone. With a single beep, Joshua’s message, all evidence of my old texts with Marya fade into an inky blackness. I stuff the phone in my old desk drawer, and force myself to heave myself through the next day without looking at it, trying with all my heart to resist the temptation to keep going, to keep my life confined within the walls of this house just as I am. Trapped.

I can access the outside world now. The real question is if I want to.

Or will I live here for the rest of my life, afraid, fearful, never willing to take the next step to defy Mum and live to be who I really am?

But who is that?

Is it someone beautiful, someone able to make a difference in the world? Marya thought that. She told it to me so many times. But Mum always acts like I’m a curse. Like I don’t matter to her so much, that she can only care about me if I make myself useful to her with chores and cooking. I just wish she would look closer, look deeper in me, see more than just a mistake, but a girl who needs a Mummy. A girl who feels so completely alone because she’s lost the only friend she ever had.

A friend who called me Lyssy.

I wonder if anyone will ever call me by that name again.

A whisper, a silent goodbye, a tribute to the one who changed everything. A hope, a dream, a memory that will never fade away. All I can give to the one who changed everything. All I can give to the one who was a friend.

Joshua will never be what Marya was to me.

Several days later, I shove away my fear and jab the number into my phone that I know will change everything. The same number that Joshua mentioned on his message. A number that I know will lead to him. A month ago, I would have done almost anything to get away from him, but now he’s the only one I can get to. The only one who I trust myself to contact without giving into the temptation of forming a connection. The only one who might possibly be able to help.

It’s late, Mum fell asleep a long time ago, but I’m still awake, sitting on the edge of my bed, grabbing my phone out of my desk and hesitating only a moment before typing, Thanks for fixing my phone.

It’s a while before he responds, and I almost click off my phone and assume he hasn’t seen it before my phone beeps a reply.

You’re welcome.

My heart gives a strange wiggle inside me when I read it, I’m really contacting him. Finally, I’m part of the outside world, my grip is stretching beyond the home that I can see. But I never imagined, never wanted it to be to Joshua. I quickly type back the only thing I can think to say. Why are you doing this?

A reply appears in almost no time at all. I just want to help you, Alyssa. Please let me do that. And I want to make up for what I did in the classroom earlier. Because I know I must have done something wrong, even though I promise I didn’t mean to.

Look joshua, I know your trying to be nice and all but its not helping

Seriously, it wasn’t a big deal. My dad does this stuff for a living. *hugs*

I stare at the ‘hug’ for a moment and grit my teeth, trying to resist the urge to send him a string of curse words like I know Marya would. He thinks he can just walk up into my life and try to fix everything, but he’s wrong. Not a single pathetic hug from him will change the death that’s coming for me.

Another beep, and a new message pops up. What does your Dad do? ">

I know he’s just trying to sound friendly, but the worlds have a sudden sting to them that takes my breath away. Struggling to sound casual, I manage to jab back a quick reply.

Don’t have one

A long silence on the other end, then, Oh.

I run my hand through my hair and stare at the screen long enough for one more message to pop up. I’m sorry.

Don’t be. Its not your fault or anything

I click off the phone before I see his answer, and mute it so that Mum won’t be able to hear it. The words, the horrible efforts make my throat burn with sickened pain. The joy, the small delights of the world have faded away, this is all I have left. And it’s worse than nothing at all.

I don’t even get a chance to put the phone away before the door bangs open.

I scramble to put my phone into my desk, but I drop it and it clunks to the floor. That’s how she finds me, fumbling to find the phone and hide the evidence of the texts behind my back, stubbornly refusing to look up at her. “Alyssa,” she says in her harsh, cutting voice. “What are you doing, dear?”

“Nothing,” I lie, sliding the phone under the desk and standing up quickly, tilting my head up to look directly at her. “Just picking up my…” I struggle to find something on me that I would have dropped. “Pen.”

Her eyebrows fly up, and she steps closer to me, placing two fingers on my chin and bending down to look at me with a tiny smile quirking at the corners of her lips. “Well then, Alyssa, I hope you won’t mind if I take a look at this...pen.” She bends down onto all fours and shoves me out of the way, reaching her hand under the desk and staring at me with her black eyes burning with hatred. She yanks out the phone and stares at it in shock, looking from me to the phone, and back to me. My heart is burning a hole right through my lungs, I can barely breathe with fear and shame.

Her voice is carefully measured when she finally speaks, quiet, a little too quiet. “I thought you told me this was broken, Alyssa. And still at school.”

I barely manage to hiss a response. “Marya brought it. A boy at school fixed it,” I say, glowering at her and struggling to unclench my fingers. “You can’t shut me out anymore, I’m still here.”

She drops the phone to the floor without a world, staring at it with cold, cruel eyes as it bounces across the wood. “You can’t do anything about it,” I cry loudly, staring at the phone with sparks of anger coursing through my body. “You touch this phone and you prove you’re the monster that Marya says you are.”

She raises her head, and I stumble back when I see tears stark against her black eyes. She’s staring at me, her eyes crinkling together in a way that almost seems to care, almost seems to want to help me. For a moment, I feel a strange sense of connection with her, and then she tosses her hair over her shoulder and raises her leg, bringing her sharp high heel down right on top of the phone. A loud crack, a bang, a shattering sound and for the second time in two months, pieces of the phone shatter across the ground.

“No,” I scream, leaping forward and staring up at her with horror contorting my face. “No, please don’t.”

“Alyssa, I love you,” she whispers, stepping towards me and yanking me towards her. “I love you more than they do. Please.” She reaches towards me, and I don’t have time to pull away before she pulls me into a hug.

I rip myself away from her in disgust, her hot breath still curling on my neck. Every part of me is screaming, pain is spinning through me, my skin glowing cold like the first breath of winter. And tears. Tears spilling down my cheeks, plinking on the floor, a hot sticky mess dripping onto my trembling cheeks. For the first time since I found out about the leukemia, I cry.

And then I’m flying backwards, tears still flowing out of my cheeks, the world spinning into a blur of wet colours, pounding on the floor, screaming until my voice aches like a fresh wound. Snot dripping from my nose, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe, forever and ever and ever, terrified to stop. Every part of me aches when I finally stop, curl into a ball, and sink into a tangled messy wreck of sleep.

Tears are still streaked across my cheeks when I wake up early the next morning. It’s still dark outside, Mum is still asleep, and I know what I have to do. I’ve been putting it off for so long, but I have to, it’s coming, I have to do it now, I can’t wait any longer. Can’t sit here in Mum’s shadow while she destroys everything I have. They say I’m still alive, but I know I was dead long ago.

The leukemia will help me now. I never thought I would have said this, but it’s all I have left to cling to, and I know I will. I grab onto my sickness with everything I have left and begin to run. My feet pounding on the steps, I shoot down the stairs and fumble to open the door and step into the cold, blunt night air. A knife from the kitchen is in my hands, I’m done with waiting, done with waiting patiently for the end to come. Every day, it gets nearer, every day the end threatens to swallow me up with it’s mighty jaws and I can’t fight it anymore. All I can do is give in. And I’m so sick of sitting around while it makes its way to the table to eat me whole. It’s over.

I’m away from her then, the door swinging shut behind me and the old oak tree at the end of the road looming out in front. It’s quiet now, everyone’s asleep, I run off the road and into a patch of trees where I know that everything is quiet, sinking down to my knees and closing my eyes as the moon whispers a word of goodbye on to my neck.

I am going to die tonight.

Memories race through my head. Running on the beach with Marya, belting out songs at the top of my lungs, screaming in the rain, dancing around, laughing so hard my stomach hurts, nights sipping hot cocoa and counting the stars, screaming, dancing, crying, loving, being real. Moments, little moments, each one small but each one precious, lovely, beautiful. I’m terrified, terrified to die, terrified to give up.

I press the knife to my arms, and press ever so gently until just a little drop of blood pops out. A sting burns through me, but I barely notices it, just staring at my arm as the blood begins to drip out and patter on the leaves below. It’s a tiny wound, but the blood is already flowing out much faster than it always does, much faster than I know it should. It’s the leukemia, I know it is. This shouldn’t normally happen, the blood shouldn’t still be flowing, but it is.

This is going to be far too easy.

Everything fades into a blur, hacking away at my arms and legs with the knife, blood everywhere, dizziness, falling backwards into the tree with tears flying down my cheeks, widly shrieking, screaming into the night, but still I can’t stop slicing away at my arm, slicing, cutting, my light fades tonight, it’s over tonight, I can’t stop now, can’t stop the blood from flooding out, still I hit my arms, more blood bursts out, more screaming, more crying, more howling my sorrow to the moon above. Everything is spinning, I can barely breathe now, blood is flooding out, my body is drenched, my clothes soaked with scarlet. It’s almost over. It’s almost done.

“It’s finished,” I whisper into the night as everything fades into the suffocating blackness of unconsciousness.