○°●°☆•°~
She turned around after cursing her life out and froze. If a soul ever left a body without dying, it was in that moment that happened for Zara. For a moment she forgot how to breathe and her eyes widened in shock.
There, sitting in her livi...
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"HEY THERE! YOU have reached Jade. Not the stone but a person." A sweet giggle, "If you are hearing this, then I obviously can't pick up the phone. Leave a voicemail after the beep and I'll get right back to you. Au revoir!" A beep.
Zara selected another recording, desperate to hear her mother's voice again.
"Hey, baby. J’attends juste devant l’école. Est-ce que ça te prendra du temps? Envoies-moi un message."
(I'm waiting in front of the school. Will it take you time? Send me a text message.)
Another recording.
"Faisons une soirée cinéma ce soir! J’ai un jour de congé demain. Je fais des cookies."
(Let's have a movie night tonight! I have a day off tomorrow. I made cookies.)
And another.
"J’ai eu une promotion! Je viens te chercher tout à l'heure pour aller célébrer. Je suis si heureuse-"
(I got a promotion! I'm going to pick you up in a few and we're going to go celebrate. I am so happy-)
She abruptly paused the recording and felt another few tears leave her eyes, cascading down the side of her face and dropping to the carpet below her. It was the last voicemail she had ever gotten from her mother. She had died that very day.
But she refused to believe that. She still listened to them all and pretended that her mother was just a call away, leaving her these voicemails. The voicemails she held so dearly.
Zara opened her eyes and picked her phone up, bringing it up to her eyes and squinting once the bright light hit her. She decreased the brightness and opened her contacts, exhaling.
She was currently laying under her bed, having no desire to face the outside world. It was just ten on Saturday night but she had no intentions of either sleeping or just go out to talk to someone.
No, she was currently crying under her bed as her feelings were getting too out of her hands. She was overwhelmed with her memories, her sadness as nostalgia clung to her like sweat on a hot day.
She was simply feeling hopeless and lonely. Again.
She clicked on her mother's texts and sighed. She had been gone for four years now and yet her contact was second on Zara's list. She texted her often.
It gave her comfort.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to say so many things. She wanted to ask about her day as if she was just a few minutes away and she wanted to tell her about her own. She wanted to talk about so many things.
But in the end, she only managed to type a single sentence with her shaking fingers.
