The Tragedy that was Kyrith Alvin

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3.

"Ratty. My little ratty."

Perfect, he was drunk. Again.
I looked at my new Blackberry and hit my head with it. Stupid, you are just plain stupid! Why didn't I change my number when I moved?
"Come back, ratty, you have to."
I rolled my eyes, put my phone on speaker and got back to my files.
He would talk nonsense for a long while now, say ratty this and ratty that, and then he would snore the night away. As always, I'll have to hang up and toss and turn worryingly for him the entire night.
In the last 3 years, he had done this often. Initially, I wouldn't take his calls, choosing to listen to his voice messages only.
Then in one of his messages he said, "Don't reply, ratty, but please pick my phone. It lets me know you are safe. You never have to reply."
So like the fool I am, I did.
He never liked that I wanted to be in secret services. "Too much danger", he would say.
I huffed, signed the papers, closed the file and picked up another. For more than a year, all I did was paperwork. I wasn't even on the field until last Christmas, and that was only because the main officer was out of commission.
Danger, my ass.
"I want you back, ratty." My pen stopped, the ink causing a blot on the seriously important paper but I didn't care, my eyes focused on the innocent phone I wish could I burn.
He would call anytime he could after I started taking his calls. It was annoying. He would list his days, his events, how much he missed me, blah blah blah .
He never said words like this, though. I couldn't help but worry that something may be wrong with him. I almost opened my mouth to ask but my voice just wouldn't come. It was stuck in my life throat like a fucking golf-sized ball.
"Ratty..." I heard his sob and couldn't help clutching my phone in my hand, as if I would somehow magic my way through it to see him, sense his mood, hold him.
"My heart hurts, my chest hurts, my little ratty. I hurt without you. Come back."
I couldn't. Even if I wished to go back, to see him and to hold him, I genuinely couldn't.
I was on my second field case and it was regarding a local group of gang - which, according to my investigation, wasn't so local. I can't leave this case, I was undercover as a potential investor in this dude's shady businesses and it could have something to do with trafficking and illegal weapons.
"I wish I wasn't an idiot, ratty. I filed for divorce, the whore was cheating on me..." My heart hurt for him.
"You hear me, my little ratty? I filed for divorce. Come back, please, come back. I need you, ratty. I always want you next to me but this time, now, I desperately need you. I love you, ratty."
Just not enough, though, right? Not enough to fight for us, for everything we were?
I wanted to scream again, yell and throw a fit but fuck my life, I couldn't even do that.
"Come back."
I won't, because I simply can't.
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