The Noble War// Tate Langdon

A Filthy God Damn Horror Show

Lylah's POV

7 days.

86 unread texts

42 missed calls.

39 messages.

Well 38 messages now. I'd just gotten done listening to one.

1. "Lylah, you just left and I want to say I'm so sorry baby. Please pick up."

2."Ly. It's been five minutes. I just want to know if you made it home safe. I love you."

3. "Please pick up babygirl. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. Something happened. It wasn't- I didn't.- just please pick up."

4. He was crying desperately this time. "Lylah it's been a whole day. Please talk to me. I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me. It was- it was like darkness. I love you."

5. "Ly... I love you." He sniffled.

I cried as I read his messages. I cried when I looked at my chalkboard. The word 'Asshole' was plastered on it. I remember when he did that. I smiled a weak smile remembering the kind Tate.

"You didn't have to write your name." I smirked as he wrote "Asshole" on my board.

"Shut up." He exhaled a laugh. His cute yet sexy one. His dimples sunk deep and he turned around to kiss me.

I cried harder even thinking about him. School was tomorrow. I'd have to walk into English and look him straight in the eyes. I don't know if I could.  I walked to my closet and pulled out my dad's Ramones shirt. I'll have better luck with this on... Hopefully.

I hate the world. What have I done? What have I done to deserve this? I don't get it. My dad. The bullies. Tate. My life. I just don't get it. The world is a filthy place. It's a filthy goddamn horror show.

I laid on my bed and fell asleep, letting a tear slip out of my eye.

***Tate's POV***

7 days.

86 delivered texts.

42 unanswered calls.

39 messages I hope she'd received. About to be 40. I dialed her number into my phone, my tear stained cheeks wet the phone as I put it to my ear. My bloodied knuckles were getting scabs. I'd stopped punching the walls for 2 days now.

"Pick up. Pick up. Pick up." I mumbled.

"Hey it's Lylah, sorry I missed your call, but leave your name and number and I'll be sure to get back with you!" Her sweet voice cooed. I'd heard that phrase so much that I'm sure I could do a spot on impression of it.

"Lylah.... I know I've said this before but- I'm just really sorry. I miss you. Your smile. And I just need you. I love you so much and I just really need to talk to you." By then I was crying again. "I just- I'm sorry." I hung up. I sat in my bed and pulled the razor out of my nightstand drawer.

No Tate. What would Lylah say? She wouldn't approve. You stopped this for her. Don't do this.

I put the razor back and laid down. A tear slipped from my eye as I drifted to sleep.