The Dreaded Call...

I sat in my room. My eyes burning. I could hear the soft muffled murmurs coming from downstairs. It all started with one phone call. Just one. I was expecting it. The sharp ring cutting though the air in to my room where I lay. It was dusk. The blue sky fading into light and deep oranges. Every different shade imaginable. In the distance the pale moon was just staring to glow.
I jumped, knowing what was coming. I waited. Waited for the voices. Waiting for the sound. I just couldn’t bear it anymore. The suspense. The dread. Most of all the fear. Most of my family had or died of cancer. I just wondered who it would be this time.
However, it was no one I had expected. It was out of the blue. Out of the ordinary. I heard the clock ticking by. Constantly flowing. One after the other. Tick tock, tick tock. It seemed to be going slower and slower until I thought it was going to stop altogether. Of course it didn’t. One traitorous tick after the other. It was like it wanted me to live though it and suffer the pain. The awful painful. The despair felt was indescribable. I was not only scared, I was terrified.
I wiped my palms on the silky purple covers on my bed. I was biting my nails until I could no more. I tried to get into something to pass the time. Nothing would catch my attention though. My phone buzzed. It was someone asking about the home work for the next day. I couldn’t tell them, they wouldn’t care. I knew they wouldn’t. I felt I couldn’t tell anyone. They would soon get bored. Who could I tell? I tossed my phone on the bed beside me. I couldn’t be bothered for this. Why should I tell them? They only talked to me when they wanted something.
I tried to read. But all I could hear was my heart thudding in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my asthma was coming back after all these years. I tried the next page, my eyes were going across the same words over and over again but once again I could still feel and process nothing. I could feel myself slipping away into a world of my own. A word of terrible thoughts and worry about the dread it may hold. I told myself no and to try and read again. But I couldn’t.
I wanted to try and listen and the door, but as much as I wanted to know, I know that deep inside I didn’t. I wanted to stay clueless, no idea what it could be, because deep inside I knew that the horrific things I was picturing, reality would be ten times worse. And I knew I didn’t want to know the truth.