that's enough

      The third, fifth, and possibly already the tenth call went unanswered. ‘Where the hell is she?’ - the black-haired girl thought, looking at the chat room with the one she'd been waiting for hours. Thirty-two messages. There was no reply, no read. Reagan seemed to have forgotten what day it was. Or had forgotten Leah existed at all. The girl clutched the phone and sipped from her glass again. The wine was no longer soothing and she wanted something stronger, but she knew she had to keep herself in control. She took a deep breath and thought she might ask her colleagues or Reagan's friends where she was.        Not one. Not one damn number of Reagan's friends. The girl lowered her head and wiped away her tears for the first time that evening. She just felt like shit. It seemed like the girl she loved didn't trust her. And there was one question that lodged too deep in her mind: "Did they even love each other?". About herself, the girl was sure, but about Reagan.... How many evenings together had she missed? Holidays? Her birthdays? What to speak of meeting her parents?        ‘Mark was right after all when he said we should break up,’ the girl thought, in parallel remembering her friend's words that this relationship was killing her. She started eating less, stressing more and generally stopped being herself. But Leah didn't listen. Claimed everyone was lying. Said they were doing great. It's just. just having some difficulties right now. ‘Got held up at work’, ‘Dad was in the hospital’, ‘A friend needed help right away’ -with each such excuse, which her loved ones hadn't believed from the start, she doubted Reagan more and more. But she kept quiet. She kept silent because she respected and loved her. What's to hide, though? She loves the hell out of her.        Warner called the waiter and, after paying for the wine, tried to leave the restaurant as quickly as possible. Already in her car, she let herself cry as she leaned on the steering wheel. Wiping her eyes, she looked in the mirror, thinking she'd had enough. She was tired. The girl started the car and, switching on her phone, began recording a voicemail.       ‘You know what, Reagan?’ Her voice was soaked with resentment and anger that she wasn't even going to hide. ‘I love the hell out of you.’ The girl pressed her lips together, but continued anyway: ‘But I'm done’, she said harshly. ‘Do you even remember the last time we spent time together? Is it so hard to give me at least ten fucking minutes?’, The girl accidentally shouted, but she didn't care. She turned off the main street, heading toward her friend's house, to whom she had already complained about Reagan three hundred times. ‘It didn't matter, though. Like it or not, we're breaking up.’ It was painful to say these words, the release she wanted to feel was not forthcoming, but she was not going to take back her words. After sending the message, the girl turned the corner again, from where it was still a few minutes to Mark's house. Her friend was awake - replying to messages that covered Reagan with dicks. Probably spoiling Warner's already ex-girlfriend right now.        There's a message on her phone, but Leah doesn't even think to look at it - it was the kind of sound only one person had on a notification, and now.... didn't want to hear it now as much as Reagan did. The mother would start spouting bullshit again about how the girl just hadn't met a normal man and that she was mentally ill and needed treatment. Somehow Warner didn't even doubt that she was a drunk. Brake and the girl are already there, standing next to Mark's house.       

***

             “Fuck yeah!” Reagan shrieked, dodging another charge from the rebellious AI. The one was angry and trying to kill not only its creator, but her friends as well. The blue background and its ugly face changed to a red and then a joyful expression.        They had been fighting him in the girl's lab for more than an hour and the scientist had already lost track of time, but something told her she was late for the meeting. There were hundreds of excuses spinning around in her head, but none were plausible enough to explain the cut on the girl's cheek as well as the bruises all over her body. ‘I think Leah's going to be mad at me again.’ - The girl thought with a slight snicker, already imagining her girlfriend's disgruntled pouty face. She's sure to be happy about the gift Reagan has stashed in the right pocket of her jeans.       “Reagan.” He literally sang, and her correspondence with her contact "The Best Girl in the World♡" popped up on the screen. Her friends looked at her in surprise while Reagan's own gaze was fixed on the screen. “Your girlfriend has been waiting for you.” Leah appeared on the screen, dressed in a beautiful red colored evening dress, with a nice hairstyle and a distressed look. She sipped wine from her glass and took a deep breath, beckoning the waiter over.       Reagan raggedly sighed. ‘No.’ - the girl saw. Resentment, anger, misunderstanding. Her girlfriend had waited too long. She'd let her down again. Let her down because she works in this goddamn shit. The artificial intelligence cried out as Mike shot it with a shotgun that had inexplicably come from the girl's lab.        Brett, who was nearby, saw it too. He saw Reagan, who had a look of regret and sadness on her face. The guy wanted to go over to her and reassure her, tell her that she and her friend would be fine, but he couldn't. Partly because the computer wanted to kill them all, partly because he knew the girl would push him away like she always did.       “Oh, Reagan, listen. Your sweetheart recorded a voice mail for you.” The computer laughed in its robotic voice and switched on the voice message. At first only the engine of the machine was heard, and then the voice appeared: “You know what, Reagan? I love the hell out of you. But I'm done.”