Please listen to this beautiful song, I feel like it fits them.
Mara is in a sort of low, so light trigger warning on some dark thoughts.
October 9th:
11:01 p.m-
How many pills does it take to kill a person?
The question isn't how many you take but how prolonged it takes to slow down your heartbeat until you inevitably succumb. Because it isn't instant death, but one that progresses slowly, so sluggish that you find yourself taking more and more. Until you can't remember when the bottle became empty.
So how many pills does it take to kill a person who's already breaking inside?
Well it's not 27 pills. Mara realized that after her brother found her sprawled out on the tiled bathroom with bloodshot eyes. But she wasn't tearing inside then, not really, not in the way she is now. Mara was fifteen and stupid then, just looking for relaxation. But now she has the knowledge of what doesn't work, and that isn't good.
The pills are in her hand, little white things that can be the end to all of this. Her heart is already destroyed. So she pleads again, with a sob in her windpipe and tears streaming down her face. Her nose running, her breath shattered as she whispered for someone to come, for someone to see.
How many pills does it take to kill a person?
Maybe she will get the formula right this time. Maybe, Mara will decrease her heartbeat just enough that all the grief will dwindle away. And she will be left as the cold exterior of a girl she once was, the girl she yearns to be again.
12:23 a.m-
Cairo and Ryn are out of town on a date, leaving Mara home alone. Although the apartment isn't that large, with just a few bedrooms and a bathroom, Mara feels so chilled. So by herself that Mara finds herself entwined in her bedsheets, trying to breathe through the cruel logic racing through her mind.
The bathroom cabinet is only a few steps away.
She is experiencing a low, feeling so isolated. With her different meds and the move, she maybe hadn't been as consistent as she should have been with her schedule. Now, with the TV in her room softly playing cartoons, she feels like sobbing.
But she doesn't have any tears left to shed. So absolutely drained that she just observes the characters dance across the screen, just staring. Letting it pass the long time as she can't seem to fall asleep.
2:06 a.m-
Shadows from the lively city outside dance on her white walls. The voices of groups walking the streets below, flowing in through the opening in her window. The soft draft of autumn wind filling the small compartment that is her bedroom.
It isn't much to look at yet, just a smaller bed pressed against the wall in one corner, a dresser shoved in the other. The TV is on top of the old dresser, playing even quieter than before.
Her fingers tremble as they hover over the familiar numbers. Sleep isn't even a thought anymore, and Mara is exhausted. Half lucid and in a state of distress, she uses that as an excuse to dial the phone number burned in her memory.
She had promised to stay away, to cache her problems elsewhere. But this isn't the first promise to him she's broken. She just needs to hear his voice, that low gravelly timbre that used to soothe her to sleep.
Ignoring the fact that it was two in the morning, she calls.
Calling Weirdo...
Elias: Hello? His voice is groggy, answering on the third ring. He hadn't even looked at the caller ID, just reaching out in the dark for the buzzing creature. Party in the USA playing theatrically, the tone Mara had set a while ago.
Mara: Um, hi. She mutters, suddenly awake, realizing how bad this is. She would just hang up, but a part of her can't.
Elias: What's wrong? His voice sounds more clear, stirring noises from his end as he sits upright in his bed, the structure groaning. He can tell she doesn't sound normal, her voice softer than usual.
Mara: I know I promised space-
Elias: You were always an idiot.
Mara: What? She breathes a smile into the receiver, which Elias reciprocated with his own chuckle. She can't see him shake his head, brushing his fingers through his hair.
Elias: Of course you can call, always. I just meant space because I can't be around you and not want you. I was doing us a favor.
Mara: Oh- Her voice drops an octave, a beat of silence hanging between them. She didn't realize he still has feelings for her.
Elias: So, what's the reason for this two am call? If it's a booty call, I'm sorry, but my services are closed.
Mara: When did you become the bold one? She chuckles, realizing that she had made the appropriate decision pushing him away when she did. He would never have gotten this far if she hadn't, experienced all that he had. Met Isha, she adds bitterly.
Elias: I guess I spent too much time with you. Seriously though, what's with the two am call? I do have school in the morning. He smiles, his lips turning up as he settles back into the hard bed. Will was just feet away, dead asleep, his snores muffled by the pillow he stuffs his face into.
Mara: Let's not talk about me.
Elias: Then who should we talk about? The president? I think not. The fact the Jack could have easy lived if Rose just moved over-
Mara: How about Isha? Does she make you happy? She seems nice.
Elias: I sense some jealousy. His voice is laced with amusement as he turns in his bed. Staring out the window at the stars they'd wished on so many times. It is funny how the one time he pushes her away and she calls, he relinquishes.
Mara: I did always know she would make trouble for me one day. They both smile, recalling the time on the beach. Mara can feel the ghost of his fingertips on her scars, tracing them while they so freely talked about death as if it were an immediate object.
Elias: Yes, she makes me happy. His tone is playful, edging her further. They both know it is nothing more than platonic, but falling into their easy banter is soothing.
Mara: That is all I ever wanted for you, happiness yanoe.
Elias: Really, though. I mean you did break my heart.
Mara: I wish for the old Elias, the nice one. She laughs, her face pulled as a grimace takes over her expression. She hadn't realized at the time how she was hurting him. She just thought they were having fun, living off of life. She didn't know she was manic, not really, but at some point, he must have.
Elias: He's in here, somewhere.
Mara: He was cute. Bring him back, please.
Elias: You mean ruggedly handsome? Godlike even?
Mara: No, you weirdo, cute. She tantalizes.
Elias: You wound me and my manly pride.
Mara: Wouldn't be the first time, Eli. We established my heartbreaking tendencies.
Elias: Isha wouldn't-
Mara: Don't even compare us, or I will hunt you down, Elias. I know your family, I know your people, and I know where you live. Mara bites out, her tone light and joking, which Elias picks upon. It is all teasing, all fun, falling back into whatever they are.
Elias: Harsh
Mara: Deserved
Elias: Touché
Mara: I missed this, us.
Elias: Then why did you end it, Mara. I get it, but you never called me once after you just walked out.
Mara: I'm calling you now. She smirks, elongating her words as her voice rises higher, bashfully. In truth, she couldn't call him because she knew she would just go running back to him if she did. She would fall into his words because she was addicted, and like now, would use him to ignore her distress.
Elias: Half a point for you then, only half, though. Now you've exceeded your booty call hour limits, so I will be hanging up on you.
Mara: Wha-
Call with Weirdo ended
Mara smiles, holding the phone to her chest. The wind is softer against the windowpane, the cartoons still playing in the background as static. Instead of thinking the walls are closing in on her, she sighs happily, feeling the room settle back into its dimensions.
Mara thought she had nobody, but that is incorrect. Because she always has somebody there, just a phone call away. Someone who cares enough to disregard all their bad history together, just to save her breath. Someone to pick up the pace of your slow-beating heart and encourage you on, even if the going is rough.
How many people does it take to save a broken soul?
For Mara, it is one. A single person who she admires in the true definition of love. Not what her mother had told her or what she witnessed transpire around her for years. But her own messy version of it. In the end, they would always be out there, waiting for her call.
3:32 am-
Text from Weirdo
Elias: Goodnight Emmy.
---
Authors Note:
Ah, of course they wouldn't stay away. All those worries for nothing.
Thoughts?
Also thank you guys so much, just you reading my stories is the best birthday present I could ever ask for. Love all of you <3
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- Nia
Edited 4/8/22