Act I, Scene VII
Three reviews and I put up another piece.
Kaulitz [September 30, 02:33 PM]: Hi Anna, I know you are not online but we have not talked in a long time and I was worried about you. Donít think I didnít notice you avoiding my questions about your well-being. Rereading our last conversation I realize I may have been too forward and I apologize if I have scared you off. I know you prefer to remain anonymous and I respect that wish. Even if you do not want to talk anymore, please let me know if you are alright. Love, Bill.
Anna stared at her screen for a long time. Truth was, she had been avoiding him. He had made her feel comfortable in her own skin for the first in a long time, had made her forget the misery of her life if only for a moment, and she couldnít lie to him anymore.
Because the truth was that she was not just avoiding him, she was also avoiding herself, and her mess of a life. Pretending that she was not still being ripped apart by grief, that she did not still lie awake every single night wondering if she should not just end it all, because she did not believe the hole in her chest would ever close enough to allow her to breathe Ė let alone heal completely.
For a long time she had been able to pretend. To her parents, to her friend Shelly, and to her colleagues and the costumers at work, but she couldnít anymore. Perhaps she needed another change of scenery. Or perhaps this was something that neither time, nor a different place, would ever fix.
Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at the shell of the woman that she had once been. Her brown hair hung limply to her shoulders. Her green eyes were distant and dim. She was wasting away. Every day a bit more. Soon, all that would be left to do was actually die.
Her eyes fell on the untouched bottle of sleep pills. A prescription from the doctor in Sacramento, on recommendation of her parents. She had not touched them up until now, but suddenly found her hand reaching out to the bottle. As if in trance, she unscrewed the lid, watching herself in the mirror as she canted it in her hand. She watched as this sad, pitiful girl breathed in deeply, ready to take life into her own hands. Ready to take life with her own hands.
With a loud sob she dropped the bottle in the sink, pills strewn everywhere, as she clapped her hand in front of her mouth. She was not just a spectator of her own life. She did not have to do this. She could go back. And yet, as she had watched herself prepare to take her own life, she had felt like there had been nothing she could do to stop it. Or perhaps she had not wanted to stop it.
She was feeling so tired, so very tired. Slinking to the floor, she pulled up her legs and rested her head on top of them. She reached in her sweatpants, scrolling down her contact list, looking through tear-streaked vision for that one person that she had saved but had never wanted to contact. So why was she now? It was a bad idea, but Anna found that she hardly cared at that moment. That moment, she just needed to feel like someone understood. Like someone cared.
ĎBill, itís Anna,í she started as soon as she heard him pick up the phone.