I Should Have Known.

"Hello?"
Her breathing whispered through the phone's speakers. I knew she was there. A short huff then left her lips. I could almost picture her mouth fallen open, her left hand twirling in the air as if that were going to help the words come out. Then she'd bite on her thumbnail and nervously look around. She always needed a push to speak aloud.
"Love, what is it? I know you'd only call if something were important."
Again, there was no verbal response. Just her constant breathing. And looking back on it now, that should have been enough for me. At least she had called, right? By her calling me, despite it being two in the morning in London, that meant I was the first person that came to her mind. I was the first person she wanted to talk to.
"Are you okay?"
I shouldn't have bothered asking, really - the answer was always the same. Yes. Yes, Niall, I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm alright. I'm doing okay. Everything's okay. Okay, okay, okay. I hated that word now. What a lie.
But in the moment, it was the only question that came to my mind. Give me a break, alright? It was two in the morning and my good night's sleep was shattered with a call. And I had to wake up early the next day for work. Plus, I knew I could get her to speak with that question. She was always quick to squash any worry I had for her.
"Yes," she breathed out. Again, I could picture her nodding her head along with her words. And a small smile would peek along her lips because she had gotten past the obstacle, again. She believed she had masked her pain. Again. And at that moment, she was right. I fell for it like I did every other time I asked her. I should have known.
"Then why'd you call, love? Do you need someone to talk to? Are y—" Stopping myself short, I smacked my hand against my forehead. I had just asked her if she was okay. What was I thinking?
"I just miss you, is all." Her voice was hushed, almost inaudible. She had a naturally quiet voice, but this night was different. Reflecting on it, there was a hint of pain in her voice. And I should have known.
Running my fingers through my hair, I nodded into the phone. "I know," I murmured. "I miss you too, babe. But I'll see you soon, right? There's only how many more days until spring break? I'll be able to see you then - I've already got the tickets and everything."
Again, silence. It was like this during most phone calls though, so there wasn't a shift of uncomfortableness from me. If we weren't talking in person, she hardly spoke a word. But it was true - my mom had just printed out the tickets the day before. Why? Who knows, really? Honestly, I think my mom was more excited for her arrival than I was. If that were even possible.
She hummed into the phone then, followed by shuffling. I should have known.
"Can I call you tomorrow, love? I've gotta go to the studio early tomorrow morning and—" She cut me off with her agreement and we exchanged goodnights and pledges of love. Then there was silence. We never did that cute "you hang up first; no, you hang up first" thing people did in the movies. But I swear, that night, she hung up faster than normal. I guess I was too tired to ring her back up and question it. I should have known.

A couple hours later, I found myself back in bed, my face pressed against my pillow while my thumb dialed her familiar number. I pressed the phone to my ear, my other hand continually running through my hair as I waited for her to answer. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I glanced at the time. It'd be about noon her time. So maybe she was still asleep? Resting my phone on my nightstand, I shrugged it off. She took every chance she got to sleep in. She'd see that I had called and call me back. Or at least text me. Something.
Shutting my eyes, I buried my face further into my pillow, easily falling asleep.
I should have known.

"Yeah?"
I forced myself to sit up, further wakening my tired body. My free hand was trying to rub the sleep from my eyes, but to no avail. Eying the alarm clock on my nightstand, I saw it was nearly midnight. Where had the time gone? And who was I even talking to? I didn't bother checking the screen before clicking 'answer' and holding the phone to my ear.
"Niall?"
Now I pulled my phone away to see who it was that had called. It was her name across the screen, but it sure as hell wasn't her voice. My eyebrows pulled together in a confused manner, again, my hand running through my hair. Damn, I do that a lot, don't I?
"Yeah? Who is this?"
There was a long pause and a lot of shuffling. Was it shuffling? Or maybe it was sniffling. I don't know. All I could remember was there was a lot of background noise that I couldn't make out at the time. But again, it was midnight. And I had just been abruptly woken up. For the second night in a row.
I was beginning to lose my patience. If this was supposed to be some joke - I'm always down for some fun and games, but come on. There's a time difference we need to take into consideration, people. Again, there was more shuffling.
No, wait. This time it was definitely sniffling.
"I'm so sorry. I just.. I wasn't.. I wasn't even supposed to be here. The door was opened and there were other people around and I figured they would be taking care of her, but then I walked in and I saw the bathroom light open and I.. God, I can't believe no one was watching her. No one was fucking watching her and they let this happen to her."
I blinked about a hundred times during this girl's monologue. I don't know if she had the wrong number or if she was just rambling, or maybe she was drunk. I don't know.
A humorless laugh rang through the phone.
"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
"Not really.." My voice trailed off. "Who was supposed to be watching who?"
There was a sharp inhale. And then a shaky exhale. And then another inhale. Like the person on the other line was trying so hard to keep themselves together. Like at any moment, their words would be too overpowered by their sobs and I would never know what she was talking about. And by the way she was trying to calm herself down, it was obvious that it was very important that I knew what she was talking about. I should have known.
"She.. Did you know?"
Wow. What a vague question. I guess my silence made that apparent.
"Did you know what.. that she.. Her depression. Did you know?"
Before the question was even finished, I was out of bed and rushing to put pants on. I even threw on another shirt and a sweater; with the never-ending traveling I do, I could already anticipate how cold the airplane was going to be. Making my way out of my room and down the hall, I finally forced the words out of my mouth. "Don't you say it. Don't you fucking dare."
It was then I realized my hand was shaking and tears were running down my cheeks. I hadn't even left my apartment yet and I was already a mess.
"Niall.. I.."
Shaking my head, I stopped near the living room couch. I suddenly felt lightheaded and had no choice but to sit on it's arm, my head now resting in my palm. This wasn't real. There was no way. I had just talked to her yesterday and everything was fine. Everything was okay. She said she was okay. But I should have known. I should have known she would act like everything was okay when in reality, everything was falling apart.
That night, I learned everything was not okay. Her depression had gotten worse over the past couple of weeks. And I've gotta give her some props, I never would have guessed. She was a damn good actress. That night, she and a couple of friends decided to pitch in for some liquor. Typical college fun. And being the responsible young adults they were, there was always one in the group that had opted out of the drinking for the night and would be the official hair holder and medicine bringer. But that night, from what I had been told, there were too many people. Too many people needed to be catered to. Too many people needed to have the spare liquor pulled from their hands. Too many people were throwing up. Too many people had to be forced into bed for the night. And like every other instance in her life, she was put at the bottom of that list of too many people.
We all know alcohol is a depressant, right? Not exactly the best idea for someone who is already depressed to get involved with such a thing - but hey, it's college. And since she was at the bottom of that list, she found herself utterly alone. Her phone was nowhere to be found, everyone else was scrambling about trying to help their drunken friends back to bed. So she did what she did best - she crawled into her little hole of the world. And this time, she never came back out.
I should have known.

"I'm sorry for your loss."
What a shit sentence. Are you really? Are you really sorry? Because if you were sorry enough, if you meant the words that you said, you'd do anything for me right now. Because you'd know I can't cope with this and you'd do anything to see me smile and be my normal self. You want to know how to do that? Bring her back. Bring her back right now and I swear, I will accept your condolence and be on my merry way. And I'd never let her out of my sight so I'd never have to hear those damn five words ever again.
But no. No one cares enough for that. It's just a sentence they say to make people feel better. To make it seem like they care, when in reality, they were probably forcefully pulled from their beds this morning and dropped off at this spot by a parent or sibling after they were told they couldn't leave until they said that stupid sentence. Bullshit.

Crouching in front of the headstone, I barely shook my head from side to side. My fingers ran along the indentation of her name - this thing did no justice to her. She should have the whole cemetery to herself, if anything. And there should be a petting zoo because animals were her most favorite thing in the world; one with the most outrageous things too, like red pandas and meerkats. And there should be a huge sign hung above her with some cheesy saying like "Death is life's way of telling you 'you're fired!'" with Donald Trump plastered on it. Something. Something that would make people chuckle at her remembrance, because she'd never want people to feel so morbid around her. She always put other people's feelings first. Always.
And maybe that was my mistake. I took her for granted. I assumed everything she told me was the truth when - in actuality - nearly everything she had told me was a lie.
She wasn't okay.
She wasn't getting better.
She wasn't happy.
I wouldn't be seeing her for spring break.
I wouldn't be seeing her - ever.
I wouldn't be able to make love to her on every surface she had written in that damn book. Yeah, she had one of those books. Sexy, right?
I wouldn't get to scream her name on top of the Eiffel Tower.
I wouldn't be able to take her on her first scuba diving adventure. Or her first time skydiving or bungee jumping or cave diving. We wouldn't be able to go on a hot air balloon ride for our five year anniversary. We wouldn't be able to visit Australia where she'd finally be able to hold a koala and where I would eventually propose to her. We'd never get married, never have kids and never watch them grow up, and we'd never grow old together.
She was gone. And I had the chance to stop it, to help her. I figured my love was enough to keep her going, at least until I was able to see her and hold her and tell her I would make sure everything was okay because she would be able to move in with me and she could go to school in England and.. And we'd be happy. I'd make sure she was happy. She wouldn't have to lie about it anymore.

But I didn't know.