Dinah Jane Hansen imagines

17-Gone

Hey… It’s me again.” Y/n breathed into the receiver.

Silence.

She was slowly getting used to it.

The girl stretched her legs up into the small coffee table in front of her as she settled more comfortably on the couch. The phone still tightly pressed against her ear.

“I know, I’ve been blowing up your phone these past few weeks.” She admitted a bit embarrassed. “But can you blame me?”

More silence.

Such deafening silence.

Silence so loud, it was physically hurting the small woman on the couch.

But she was strong. She could take the pain.

“I was just calling to hear about your day actually.” She spoke into the phone after a brief pause. “But now that I think about it, it’s kind of a dumb question.”

She huffed out a low chuckle, her eyes falling to her lap where her left hand was picking on the seams of her old sweatpants.

“When are you coming home?” Her eyes closed slowly when she felt her own voice start to waver lightly. “I made dinner. I put your plate away in the fridge again for when you come back.”

Silence…

Camila swallowed.

“I’ll probably be asleep when you come home–” The young woman choked on the last word suddenly. She closed her eyes tightly and let out a shaky sigh.

“I’ll be asleep when you come back.” She tried again. “But you can wake me up, okay? I want to see you.”

More deafening silence.

“I miss you.”

A single tear rolled down her rosy cheek against her will.

“I love you.”

No response.

“Please say something…” Y/n pleaded through her streaming tears. “Dinah…”

The lump in her throat was making it difficult to raise her voice above a whisper, but she she gathered her strength and spoke a little louder.

“Dinah.”

No… Response…

“Dinah.” She said even louder ignoring the satly taste of her tears on her mouth.

…

“Dinah!” She yelled desperately.

“DINAH!” She screamed out into the silent phone and the empty house.

The name echoed soundly from wall to wall, going all around the dark house.

Deep, shaky breaths…

You have reached the length limit of a voicemail. The voicemail is full.

Y/n finally pulled the phone away from her ear, taking one final look at the contact picture she had of her wife.

“Come home.” She said firmly, before pressing the red button, letting the line fall dead.

She sat there, on that couch. Not crying. Not sad.

Motionless. Emotionless.

Even the creaking of the front door couldn’t take her out of her trance. The soft footsteps approaching.

Even the comforting hand placed on her shoulder elicited no reaction.

“This isn’t healthy, y/n.” Lauren's melancholic voice broke the horrific silence.

“She’s coming home.” y/n calmy replied. “I send her a voicemail, she’ll hear it and she’ll come home.”

“y/n…”

“She’s coming home.”

“y/n, it has been 3 weeks.” Lauren tried explaining for the thousandth time since the tragic news had been received, but it was like talking to a wall.

For y/n there were no bad news. It was simply a mistake.

Her Dinah wasn’t dead. There was no accident.

“y/n, Dinah isn’t coming home.”

“She is.” y/n countered swiftly, her eyes focused in space in front of her.

“No, she isn’t.” Lauren  informed.

“Why? Where is she?” y/n asked with furrowed brows, still not looking at her best friend.

“She’s… In heaven.”

“But…”

“y/n.”

“She always comes back to me.” y/n protested.

“Not this time, honey.” The taller woman sat down next to her friend, pulling the distraught girl into her arms.

“Dinah isn’t coming home?” Lauren whispered into her friend’s shirt.

Lauren had to hold back her own tears as she shook her head. “No.”

“Never?” Y/n's throat had started constricting again, the wetness filling her eyes quickly. “Never again? I won’t see her?”

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Y/n had no more questions left. For once she wanted to go back to receiving no answers, back to the silence.

She wanted to scream and sob and trash and throw. But she couldn’t.

Now all she could do was stare aimlessly as tears stained her face with the pain of her loss…