This was the most challenging problem that I'd ever battled in high school. It really shed some...
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The Final Lie
I couldn’t have known, or so my friends and family said. Not a thing anyone told me brought me out of my entangling depression. Without “Connor” and “Ian,” I had few friends to call. It was painful and foreign to not talk to Connor every night. I didn’t know what to do: I was lost. I had always been independent and proud of it, so I rarely reached out to others for help. But after four hours in tears on the bathroom floor, I swallowed my pride and reached out to my family and friends.
My phone number was changed and his number was blocked so he couldn’t reach me. But it didn’t stop him. The house phone rang several days after we had made the tragic discovery. My dad picked up, and seconds later, called my name. I went into the office, where he was.
“It’s John Daly from school. Wants to know if you have a History book you can borrow.” My dad said and handed the phone to me. I took the phone, confused.
“Hello?” I asked, walking back to my room.
“Hey Mary, its me, Connor.” Noah’s voice came through the phone all too familiarly. I froze. The blood drained from my face and I felt dizzy. How stupid I was to not have recognized before that Connor’s voice was the exact same as Noah’s. My breath shortened and I almost whispered,
“Hold on.” I turned right around and went back into the office. My parents looked up at me questionably. I pressed the speaker against my palm.
“It’s Noah,” I said softly to them. My dad snatched the phone from my hands and calmly, yet angrily, began talking to Noah. He told him that he knew everything, that we had found out, and never to call me again. The conversation ended and I smiled weakly at him and returned to my room, quietly.
Weeks later, I still longed to hear his voice over the phone. I yearned for his enchanting conversation. But I resisted. I slowly inched back into reality. I bravely pushed through into the social world and surrounded myself with friends. Spring brought a bounty of blossoming friendships, pulling me out of my winter hibernation. But it didn’t deter Noah. He found out my new cell phone number somehow and began calling me, leaving voicemails and texting me. I finally replied: the temptation was too strong. I didn’t want to forgive him, but I couldn’t help it. My brain and my heart battled extensively. He explained himself. He told me it was my fault because I had fallen for Connor and he didn’t want to admit that he was just joking. In his eyes, I was in the wrong, and he was the hero by trying to save me from getting hurt. We talked for about a month before I told him I didn’t want to talk to him any longer. I realized that he was not good for my mental health. So I told him.
“Noah, I don’t think it is a good idea that we keep talking.” I closed my eyes as I pressed Send, but I was no longer afraid of being without him, I was just afraid of his reaction. He grew angry and began insulting me, like he always did when he was angry. I left him with his final words still hanging in the air:
“You have no one now.”
But I did. I had my friends and family. They had always been there; I just never saw them because of Noah. But they were there, and I wanted them. From that moment forward, I was through with him. He was no longer a part of my life. I broke free from my foul, online addiction and embraced the warm arms of reality.