23 #3
You would never believe who Kyle started dating. Actually, you might believe it. I don’t believe it. I didn’t think he even knew anyone from our year at school. It’s Ginger btw, in case you ever read this. Not that you will.
I bought you a 24th birthday present. My therapist said I shouldn’t.
She said I should accept that you’re gone.
I know she’s right. But, just in case, I bought it.
Spoiler: It’s a big box of classic books.
I don’t remember which ones were your favorite, so I got them all.
Bronte, Austen, the gang’s all here. I’m putting it with the others just in case.
But, and please don’t hate me for this if you are alive, it’s the last present I’m going to get. I need this to be the last.
And then the most recent one.
I miss you.
She was still Krissy, still my friend. I had to believe that as I leaned forward and shook my head until Nicola’s spare hearing aid fell into my lap.
I picked it up and, unsure of exactly what I was doing, pulled it close.
There were no buttons, switches, or flashing lights.
Just a closed battery compartment, a serial number, and a tiny red spot of paint.
Hello, I whispered.
I couldn’t hear anything.
I pulled the spongy earmold up against my head and tried again. Hello.
Still nothing, not even a pop of static.
For a brief, awful moment I thought it had all been for nothing.
I’d stolen Nicola’s hearing aid in some desperate, half-baked bid for control, but it didn’t matter.
I was as powerless as I’d been in her bag, as I’d been on the shelf in Trash N’ Treasure, as I’d been when— I curb stomped that thought before it could take hold, pushed the hearing aid against the phone’s microphone, and pressed the speaker icon.
A boxy wavelength started scrolling along the bottom of the screen.
Hello, I said again, the thought as loud as I could make it. Hello.
The wavelength jumped, a tiny blip.
My stuffing tight, my limbs shaking, I paused the recording and pressed playback.
“Hello.”
It was the first time I’d heard my voice since I’d died. I sounded strange. I sounded young. A girl, a ghost, calling out from some faraway place. But despite that, it sounded like me.
I’d done it. I wasn’t sure how I’d done it, but I had.
I’d stolen the magic out from under Nicola’s nose, seized a little piece of that power, and done with it what she told me I couldn’t do.
I didn’t even feel bad about it, because despite what Nicola said, it was my voice, mine, and I was going to use it.
I knew Krissy would help us. She wouldn’t defend Kyle, not once she knew what he’d done.
I let myself imagine it. Krissy’s face twisting with rage, her voice rising with it. She wouldn’t waste time with Plan B. With her, it’d be bloody, it’d be brutal, it’d be beautiful.
I unpaused the recording. The wavelength returned, slow and creeping. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I honestly hadn’t thought about anything other than speaking to her again, having that chance. Now that it was here . . .
“I’m sorry,” I finally managed, watching the audio wavelength shape my words. “I . . . I know you’re not going to believe this at first but . . . it’s me, Krissy. It’s me. It’s Lucy. I need your help.”
I told her everything. I told her details I hadn’t told Nicola.
I told her things I hadn’t even let myself dwell on.
I told her I wasn’t sure if his face had really been as red as I remembered it, or if that had been my capillaries bursting.
I told her how I’d clawed at him so hard I thought one of my nails came off, but I couldn’t feel it.
I told her that I couldn’t hear anything in that final moment. Not even my own heart.
“It was Kyle. He murdered me. I don’t know what he did with my body.
Please. I know this is a fucked-up thing to hear, but it’s the truth.
It’s the truth. Kyle killed me. Kyle also did whatever Nicola said he did to her.
I wasn’t there, but I believe her. I don’t know if he’s broken inside, if alcohol changes him, or what.
I don’t care. He did it. He’ll do it again if we don’t stop him.
He’ll do it to Ginger. I know he’s your twin.
I know you love him. I know he used to be good, when we were little, but he isn’t anymore. I’m sorry.”
When I’d finished the recording, it was almost fifteen minutes long. Two buttons flashed below it, one pink, the other gray. Send. Delete.
I stared at those two buttons for a long time, hesitation frothing like bile inside me, tightening my stitches and twisting my Bubble Wrap into a shrunken, deformed lump.
I thought about everything I’d said, and all the ways I could say it better.
I thought of all the memories we’d shared, and which ones I should’ve reminded her of.
I thought of her yelling at Nicola in the park and Nicola throwing me into her backpack.
The pipes had stopped rattling.
The shower was off.
“Lu?” Nicola called out. “Where’d you go?”
I hit send.