Her Name Was December

Day 20

It was 2:37 in the morning on Saturday, January 7th, and Greyson's phone broke the silence of the night once again. This time, once he shook himself out of sleep, he didn't hesitate to pick up the phone.

"December," he said, chuckling drowsily, "We've got to stop meeting like this."

On the other end of the line, December's usually quiet voice had turned into frantic breathing and panicked sobs. It was clear that she was trying to hold it back, but the more she tried to swallow her pain, the more she struggled to breathe. "Greyson...?" she said weakly.

He was sitting up on his mattress now, clutching the sheets tightly in his fist. "Woah, woah. December. What's going on?"

"I... I'm..." she weeped. Her voice was cut off by the sobs she finally released, complete with hyperventilated, staggered breaths. Her cries were hardly less soft-spoken than her, but Greyson had never before heard such desperateness in her voice.

Greyson's heart was racing and his stomach twisted in worry. "Where are you?" he asked, "I'm coming to pick you up."

"No!" December shouted back, "No..." She was trying to keep quiet again, and every couple seconds, Greyson could hear her take a quick, involuntary breath through her nose.

He stood in the dark and pulled his sweatpants on as quickly as he could, holding his phone to his ear between his head and his shoulder. "What are you talking about, December? I'm not going to let you be alone like this." He walked over to the window and used his fingers to peer out of the shutters. From his townhouse he could see the streetlights illuminating the shops down the barren road.

"Stop. Don't. Please." December begged through tears. She could hardly make out an entire sentence; she sounded frantic. "Just... stay on the phone..."

"Okay, I will. I promise." Greyson replied, assuring her that he wouldn't try to find her.

He spoke softly and comfortingly, helping her through every frightening burst of tears that overcame her.

What she didn't know was that he was already out the door.

* * *

The call went on for at least thirty minutes before he found her. He drove all around town, weaving through backroads and turning corners he'd never seen in his life. Eventually, he spotted the phone booth through an alley behind a row of shops along the edge of the downtown area. Inside, December was crumpled on the ground, leaning in a ball against the glass with the coiled cord stretching down to meet the phone at her ear. He parked his car and ran to her, holding his phone to his ear until the moment she saw him.

December gasped softly before dropping the phone at her side. The two made eye contact for a split second before she burst into a fit of tears at the sight of him and buried her face in her knees to muffle her sobs.

Greyson kneeled in front of her, just outside the door of the booth. They sat that way for a while, December not wanting to show her face and Greyson unsure whether or not he should try to comfort her. Once her crying had faded, December stood up. Greyson did the same, getting his first good look at her.

He had never seen her so torn apart. Mascara ran down her porcelain cheeks in dry rivers of black, and her hair was torn out of her bun, matted against her face in knotted masses that looked such a mess compared to the usual soft waves. Her short, plaid skirt was wrinkled and ridden up her leg above numerous tears down the length of her tights. Greyson looked up at her with pity written across his face as her lip quivered. In an instant, she bit down hard, and with a sob, her face contorted into anger.

December grunted loudly and lunged at Greyson, folding her delicate hands into fists and pounding repeatedly on his chest. Tears stung her eyes and she half sobbed, half screamed as she beat on him, yelling "Why! Why did you come here?"

Greyson stood in shock, feeling her weak but furious pounding on his chest, and did the only thing he could think to do. Eager to stop his pain and hers, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight. December shouted, still hitting him and trying her hardest to push him away, but her punches got weaker as he pulled her into his arms.

All of a sudden, he felt her melt. She fell into him, her height placing her head just under his shoulder. He clutched her tight, holding what seemed like all of her weight against him as she twisted her fingers in the fabric of his jacket and sobbed into the crook of his neck. Her body felt weak and shaky, and Greyson was worried out of his mind. He held her like that for a few moments, unable to concentrate on anything but the tears that wet his shirt and the quivering body in his arms.

"Come on," he said, guiding her back to his car. "You're staying at my place tonight."