Stupid, Random Stories

Rando #2

Shaky hands reach towards the dimly glowing phone screen. Finger nails caked with blood, he picked up the cell phone and picked up his phone to dialed the only number he would in this situation. Quickly, he accessed his phone's password and clicked on contacts. Of course he left her contact as 'honeypeach'. It did not take him long to dial.
He lay back down on the concrete and closed his eyes, his eyelashes ghosting over his skin. All he could hear was the tone of his phone ringing, his head pounding from the pain. His stomach cramped up into the bullet wound, and he pressed down and grimaced in pain, hand coated with fresh, wet blood.
Please pick up, please pick up.

He had prayed silently that his prayers would be heard, but his hopes were crushed when no one had picked up.

'This user is not available. Please call back later or leave a voicemail.'

To hear his own heart break was not much of a surprise.

He tried to call her again, this time he left as many voicemails as he could, but she was done with his problems. Most of her still cared for him, but she couldn't live with the desperation knowing he had all the possibility to die the next day.

Bzzzzzzzz.

She sighed, knowing he wouldn't give up. She thought she had blocked his number.

Carefully, she picked up and pulled the phone to her ear.

"Cameron, you can't keep calling me."

'This user is not available. Please call back later or leave a voicemail.'

He let out a shaky sigh, then a pained gasp. She just had to pick up. He hadn't much time.

Again, he dialed her number in hopes of her picking up, but was met with the same message.
He groaned in pain, his breath growing short. Shaky black dots formed in his view, and he knew he was going out like a dying star.
His vision blurred, and he could hardly see the green 'call' button anymore.

Just one last time, before I go.

The sound of the numbers being tapped was almost like a lullaby, satisfying his sleepy and lethargic self.
The fog was like a blanket, and the ground didn't even feel as hard anymore.
'NO.'
He can't go, not yet.
He held on tightly to the phone by his ear.
And it clicked.
"Cameron, you can't keep calling me."
He almost laughed if it weren't for the lack of air in his lungs. Instead, he wheezed.
"Cameron? Cam? Are you there?"
"I missed you," he whispered as softly as he could, but she heard. His voice was horrifically hoarse.
"I don't think I could- no, I know I could never live without you. I just want you to know that."
"What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you? I'm going to come pick you up, you don't sound too good."
"I'm going to leave, Cassie. I'm dying." He let a small sigh leave his lips.
"I love you."

But it was not the last breath he took.