*Call Ended*

CW: language

I looked down while standing on the stage, in the theater wondering if I was okay. 

Come to the theater they said it'll be fun they said.

 But it didn't feel fun. Of course it didn't, it wasn't supposed to feel fun.

 The theater holds all your answers, my friends told me. Apparently they had been here before. 

 But does it really?

 I honestly didn't know what I was doing there. Standing around like an insane person, I guess.  

 I suddenly smelled the scent of freshly baked cookies. It was odd but I turned around anyway and what I found, instead of a random batch of cookies sitting on the piano stool was you, holding them. 

 My heart skipped a beat. Actually I think it just stopped altogether. Nothing could express the shock I felt when I saw you standing behind me like a creepy stalker holding cookies. 

 I let my eyes trail over you, taking in everything. You had the brown silky curls, the ones that every guy wanted nowadays and those chocolate brown eyes that would make everyone just melt into worthless puddles.

  "Are you here for the session?” You asked, you're voice sounding as smooth as butter. I tried holding in a laugh but I just couldn't, so I started giggling uncontrollably and it just led to some stupid stuttering that I started, and you smiled and beckoned me over to you.

 I slowly made my way over to you, waiting for you to go off on me about how it was rude to laugh at other people, but instead you did something I didn't expect. You put your arm around me and walked me backstage where there were people waiting, talking, laughing and just having fun.

 I wish I could have fun.

 We walked into the crowd of people who were sitting everywhere, on the floor and the chairs. It felt like I could maybe fit in here for once. You sat me down next to a rack of outfits, most likely for a play that the theater was doing and then you sat down next to me and put the cookies right in front of you. 

“Guys meet Maya.” You said to the people in the room with a smile on your face. You seemed genuinely happy that I was there and I don't know why because honestly you didn't even know me at that point and it just felt like maybe you were faking it?

I only paid attention to you. I didn't need to pay attention to anyone else. I didn't owe it to them. I owed it to you.

 I didn't look like an insane person for much long until you found me standing on the stage and you led me to the back where the event was.

 Later I found out that it was some form of "therapy”. 

And then you asked me to speak. I didn't say anything at first. I mean what did you expect? The new girl to just start talking about her life problems to random people she didn't even know? but you ease me into it. Eventually you got me talking but I didn't get too deep into my problems. 

Just about my depression and the things that came with it like the stupid anxiety.

 You handed a cookie to everyone after they spoke. It was kind of like a reward for putting your feelings and thoughts out there. I didn't think much of it then. I thought you were just trying to bribe people with cookies!

 When I spoke you handed me one and you said, “Maya I know it's hard being here for the first time but you will get used to it. We all did. We'll get through this together because if we don't get through this together we're going to have to die alone and it'll feel like total shit because we won't know what to do with our lives after that.”

“Thank you,'' I said, giggling like a little girl. It was stupid. I don't know why I felt this way but I did. We were the last two to walk out of the theater. When we were walking out you flipped off the light switch and it seemed like every feeling we expressed in the back of that theater, every negative little thing, just disappeared.

---------------

We exchanged numbers and you told me that I could call you anytime I wasn't feeling very good about stuff.

 But you ended up calling me.

It was weird because it was a weekend, you know a normal Sunday and you called me seeming really distressed. You sent me your location and told me to meet you there so I did.

When I got there, you were on the floor of your kitchen, just sitting there. Your eyes were red like you'd been crying for a while and I guess you had been, because you called me and it seemed like something really bad happened.

“What's going on?” I asked, crouching down so that I could comfort you. It didn’t seem to do much though.

“She’s dead.” You whispered, hands on your head. My heart immediately started pounding in my chest.

“Who?” I asked, wanting to make sure.

“My sister.”

You started crying, not holding back anything from me. I pulled you into a tight hug and you just cried.

“You need to get away from here.” I told you and led you out to my car.

“No,” You stopped me. “My car. I’m driving.”

You went back inside to get your keys and walked back out. It was pretty hard to believe that someone who seemed so happy could be this broken.

But again, your sister just died.

Our feet crushed the frosty grass as we walked to your Chevy and got inside. The sky was so dark, but it was only 10:30 at night.

We drove and drove and drove. I could have taken the wheel, but you insisted that you drove. You insisted that you were fine.

You parked at the local bar and practically ran into it. I followed blindly, thinking that maybe you would feel better after a few drinks.

But you kept throwing them back, every minute turning onto another opportunity to get drunk and lose you're shit. 

“Come on,” I said quietly, after I had lost count of how many drinks you had.

“No,” you said and mumbled about some other things I didn’t understand.

“LET’S GO!” I yelled and everyone in the bar looked at me. You looked up from your drink as if I had just interrupted something important. “Let’s go,” I said quietly this time. I wanted to help you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t want to be helped.

You got up and walked out the door while I was paying for your massive drink tab. The bartender looked at me, sympathy in her eyes. I smiled sadly at her and said a quiet “thank you”.

I ran out the door, just to watch your car leave.

It was over. Not for me, who now had to find some way home, but for you, who was driving under the influence.

Tears dripped down my face. This was all my fault. Maybe you should have just stayed home. 

Home. Seems to be the safest place to hide when you're scared. 

I called you just as it started snowing. I shivered in the cold, waiting for you to pick up the phone.

“Hello?” You called out drunkenly.

“Where are you?” I demanded. I could hear you laugh.

“I’m going to see my sister. Permanently.”

I felt a panic attack come right than and there. “No!” I screamed. “No. You can’t do that.”

“Maya,” Your voice got unusually soft. “It’s not your fault. My sister was all I had left.”

“But what about me?” I asked, pulling out every excuse.

You were silent for a while. “I hardly know you.” You told me, and it hurt.

“Look. Someone once told me that we have to get through this together because if we don't we're going to have to die alone and it'll feel like total shit because we won't know what to do with our lives after that.” I said, quoting you.

“I know. It's not true. Everything seems to be a lie.” You stayed quiet after that. “Goodbye Maya.”

I screamed into my phone as I heard a crash, and the call was cut.