Voicemail // Kabby

January 23

"Hello, this is Abby Griffin. Sorry I missed your call, but if you leave me a message and your name I'll try my best to get back to you as soon as possible. If it's work related, please try contacting my work number. Thank you!"

BEEP

Marcus chuckled as he put his right blinker on, shifting lanes. "Abby Griffin? How many times have I told you that you need a new voicemail greeting?"

His left hand on the wheel of the car he was driving shifted as he flicked his blinker off. In the dim lighting of the streetlights, a silver band on his ring finger glistened. 

"I guess it isn't fair to say that when I still haven't changed your contact name either. Abigail Kane has a nice ring to it though, doesn't it?"

The low hum of a car speeding past his shifted his attention to the road in front of him rather than the phone in his hand. He watched as the same car skidded a few feet then straightened out.

"We've been married nine years, almost ten, and we still haven't changed the small things such as a voicemail greeting and a contact name. It's not that big of a deal, but you know how much I love finding something to bug you about."

Snow fell at a good pace around the car as Marcus continued home for the night. It was nearing ten at night and the sky was pitch black.

"Anyways, I'm calling you to let you know I'll obviously be home a bit later than usual. Work at the office got busy with a new case on a carjacker that came in at the last minute. Plus, the roads are terrible tonight so I'm taking my time."

He slowed to a stop at a red light, the snow falling heavier and faster. He chuckled a little. "Then I really shouldn't be talking on the phone either then, should I?"

The light turned green and he looked both ways at the intersection before slowly going forward again. His tires spun in place for a second before the car began moving.

"I won't be much longer. I just wanted to tell you that so you're not wondering where I am."

He came up to a four-way stop, his tires crunching to a stop in the snow. He looked all ways before going. His back tires spun and the back end of car swerved to the side. He straightened out his car before proceeding forward.

"You're probably in bed already due to your long day at the hospital, but I figured I'd give your cell a try."

He was heading south on the side streets now. Going down the road, stop signs lined the streets going east and west but not on the north and south directed streets. Other cars stopped for him as he slowly made his way down the street to his house.

"Obviously, you didn't answer. If you get this before I get back home, I'll see you in a few. I love you, may we me-"

Screeching tires cut off his voice. White headlights blinded his vision as his head jerked toward the sudden noise. The lights got brighter as they got closer; the screeching tires got deafening as the car slid towards his. 

The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering overtook the screech of tires. White flashes of light in correlation with pain overtook the bright headlights.

Hot pain. It was everywhere but nowhere at the same time.  

It all blurred together. White flecks, snow, stood out against a stark black background. They fell on his bruised skin. He didn't feel a single one; he was numb.

Soon, the sound of metal crunching, glass shattering, and screeching tires; the sight of headlights, white flashes, and snow; and the pain faded into nothing.

CALL ENDED