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"Is There Anyone Else You Can Call?"

UHM this has been in my drafts for a while so ‼️ Enjoy‼️ I haven't edited this and haven't really looked this over either so 🧍🏾‍♀️ This is from months ago, I don't have any other written pieces in drafts DJDJ

A white ceiling. How crude. 

"Sorry, miss? We can't reach your emergency contact. Is there anyone else you can call?" 

Ah. The only remaining contacts were those that she hadn't talked to in a decade at best, forever at worst. The rush of noise blinded her ears, as she hopelessly ran through names. 

"... Dazai Osamu." She sighed. Should she cry at her stupidity? Or should she cry at her misfortune? 

Could she even cry, in this state? The physical cauterised her emotional wounds, a gentle but unnerving ease that she succumbed to, becoming a shell of herself. 

-

Like a doll with a soul, she woke up. The scratchy fabric brushed against her thin fingers, her hair still tainted by her own blood. Lotte suddenly regretted her actions - perhaps she shouldn't have called anyone at all. What could they do for her? Sleep restlessly as a sign of affection? 

She sighed. The gothic hand of sorrow that stitched her emotions tightly had fallen limp, reducing her to a needy child. A craving so disgusting, a gentle love she so wanted, for someone to waste and kill their time by her side. 

In spite of her childlessness, she could tell he would never arrive. He could never love like that; he wasn't that person. There was no space for her, and for him there was none either. 

The room was so white it looked blue. The walls stared back at her, the click of shoes passing the doors, an overwhelming sense she was alone. All of her contacts were dead and useless. She had become - no, made -  an insentient doll, one that could not be remembered with fondness. 

"Lotte?" His voice called out. That annoying and wretched man had appeared once again, despite her best assumptions. Why had the heartless brang her comfort?

Dazai walked closer, calling her name once again. Her eyes grew hot, her nose flaring. She sobbed, her body like a plastic bottle, sniffling and gasping as if she was drowning. 

"There's other ways to tell me I smell bad, okay?" 

"It's not that!" She said through her unpaced tears. 

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