Sleeping at midnight is never a good idea. Especially when even sleeping forever wouldn't cure the tiredness I feel.
The phone rings downstairs and I ignore it, thinking it's just another of those spam calls.
It rings again and I groan, dragging myself downstairs. I'm so tired it's unbelievable.
"Hello?" I say groggily.
"Morning Amy! Or should I say... Good afternoon, Amy, it's one in the afternoon. Sleepy-head."
"Shut up, Kyle, I slept at twelve."
"Smart one," he laughs.
"Not funny."
My cellphone lights up luminously. Jesus Christ, more messages. I don't look through all of them anymore. It hurts too much, and I like thinking that I've grown up past that. I hope.
"Can we talk about something?"
"Uh-oh."
"Please?"
"Okay. So... What?"
"Bullying?"
"Okay. Cyber?"
"Um, yeah."
"So how can I help?"
"Can you stop it?"
"I wish," he says wistfully. "But I'm not capable of such, Amy, I'm afraid.
"But what can I do about it?"
"Ignore it."
"I can't."
"Then... Don't."
"Helpful much, Kyle. Great advice."
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
"Maybe talk with a teacher of your principal."
"Do you realise the last time I went to school?" I ask sarcastically.
"Um... No?"
"It was a rhetorical question, dumbass."
"Uh-oh. How long, Amy...?"
"A long time..."
"..."
"..."
"How long is a long time?"
"Um.... Over three months?"
"Jesus Christ, Amy! You're sixteen and you like don't go to school?"
"I don't see the point."
"I see...."
"Yeah."
"Well... I've got to go now."
"Okay."
"Bye."
"Bye."
I hang up first.
YOU ARE READING
melancholia ✔︎
Short Storyall i need is a reason to live. a reason to keep living in this hell you call life. because melancholia is just too hard to control all alone.
