on_thecouch || 23.3. Loneliness
23.3. "Loneliness is just about the scariest thing out there" - Joss Whedon
[Follows THIS]
It was strange how volatile the world was when it could all come crashing down around you in the blink of an eye. Could you have stopped it? What if you had done one tiny little thing different, would it have changed anything? Would it get better? Would the tears ever stop?
Ali clutched the phone so tightly to her ear that the rim of the receiver dug painfully into her ear. Those dull rings drilled into her mind over and over and over again. Nearly three days now. No answer, no returned calls, no nothing. With James missing, his brother - the father of her unborn baby - had slipped away with him. She felt numb from the inside out, leaving her skin just cold and goosebumpy all the time. She shivered, warmth being a luxury that couldn’t come. Not now. As the time ticked over with still no news, hope around them was getting lost in the thick vortex of a criminal world they could never ever completely attack. Now the victim was one of their own. It wasn’t just an acquaintance or a friend’s friend. It wasn’t a neighbour or the owner of the corner store.
It was James.
Missing… presumed dead.
And then the phone clicked to connect and a hoarse, almost unrecognisable voice answered, “Mark Campbell.”
“Mark,” Ali choked out as the tears spilled over again. “I’ve been trying to call you, but I… I…”
“I’ve been busy,” Mark cut her off flatly. “If you’re calling for news, there is none.”
Ali leaned forward and squeezed her eyes closed. Her arm even felt too tired and weak to hold the phone up, but she had waited so long to talk to him. “I just wanted to know that you were okay,” she whispered.
There was silence at first. “How okay did you think I was?” he eventually came back with, the last word catching with a sharp hiss. “It’s likely my brother is dead! How okay was I supposed to be, Alicia?!”
“I… don’t know,” Ali sobbed. “What else was I supposed to say?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to hear anything. There is nothing anyone can say to make this better.”
Ali’s whole body trembled with her crying. Her arm was clutched around her heavily pregnant stomach like it would give her a lifeline she desperately needed. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mark!”
“Don’t!” Mark all but screamed at her down the phone. “Don’t apologise! I’m not some faceless FBI victim that needs to be patronised with fucking false apologetic diatribes! Fuck you all! You’re all the reason James is fucking dead!”
“Stop it! Just stop it! He’s not dead!” Ali screamed back as what she could only hope was fear coursing through her. She didn’t know how to deal with anything else anymore. She couldn’t take it. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t.
“Oh, quit with the fucking deluded damsel in distress act, Alicia! It never suited you. He’s dead. The sooner you get that into your head, the better off we’ll all be.” Then with a sharp clunk in her ear, the line went dead and pealed into the dull, monotonous beeps that signalled the call had ended.
Ali dropped the phone into her lap like it had burned her and she stared at it. Thick tears streamed down her face, but she was silent now. James was dead. Mark was gone. Her shaking hand sunk down against her swollen stomach, drawing her attention to it. She tried to swallow but her throat felt restricted and all she could managed were a few painful, shuddering and shallow breaths. How could she possibly know what to do next?
How could she do this alone?
agentcampbell referenced with permission. Mark is an NPC.
Word Count | 621
[Follows THIS]
It was strange how volatile the world was when it could all come crashing down around you in the blink of an eye. Could you have stopped it? What if you had done one tiny little thing different, would it have changed anything? Would it get better? Would the tears ever stop?
Ali clutched the phone so tightly to her ear that the rim of the receiver dug painfully into her ear. Those dull rings drilled into her mind over and over and over again. Nearly three days now. No answer, no returned calls, no nothing. With James missing, his brother - the father of her unborn baby - had slipped away with him. She felt numb from the inside out, leaving her skin just cold and goosebumpy all the time. She shivered, warmth being a luxury that couldn’t come. Not now. As the time ticked over with still no news, hope around them was getting lost in the thick vortex of a criminal world they could never ever completely attack. Now the victim was one of their own. It wasn’t just an acquaintance or a friend’s friend. It wasn’t a neighbour or the owner of the corner store.
It was James.
Missing… presumed dead.
And then the phone clicked to connect and a hoarse, almost unrecognisable voice answered, “Mark Campbell.”
“Mark,” Ali choked out as the tears spilled over again. “I’ve been trying to call you, but I… I…”
“I’ve been busy,” Mark cut her off flatly. “If you’re calling for news, there is none.”
Ali leaned forward and squeezed her eyes closed. Her arm even felt too tired and weak to hold the phone up, but she had waited so long to talk to him. “I just wanted to know that you were okay,” she whispered.
There was silence at first. “How okay did you think I was?” he eventually came back with, the last word catching with a sharp hiss. “It’s likely my brother is dead! How okay was I supposed to be, Alicia?!”
“I… don’t know,” Ali sobbed. “What else was I supposed to say?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to hear anything. There is nothing anyone can say to make this better.”
Ali’s whole body trembled with her crying. Her arm was clutched around her heavily pregnant stomach like it would give her a lifeline she desperately needed. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mark!”
“Don’t!” Mark all but screamed at her down the phone. “Don’t apologise! I’m not some faceless FBI victim that needs to be patronised with fucking false apologetic diatribes! Fuck you all! You’re all the reason James is fucking dead!”
“Stop it! Just stop it! He’s not dead!” Ali screamed back as what she could only hope was fear coursing through her. She didn’t know how to deal with anything else anymore. She couldn’t take it. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t.
“Oh, quit with the fucking deluded damsel in distress act, Alicia! It never suited you. He’s dead. The sooner you get that into your head, the better off we’ll all be.” Then with a sharp clunk in her ear, the line went dead and pealed into the dull, monotonous beeps that signalled the call had ended.
Ali dropped the phone into her lap like it had burned her and she stared at it. Thick tears streamed down her face, but she was silent now. James was dead. Mark was gone. Her shaking hand sunk down against her swollen stomach, drawing her attention to it. She tried to swallow but her throat felt restricted and all she could managed were a few painful, shuddering and shallow breaths. How could she possibly know what to do next?
How could she do this alone?
agentcampbell referenced with permission. Mark is an NPC.
Word Count | 621