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Picking the phone up with caution, I pressed the talk icon on my screen and pushed it up to my ear. Heavy breaths came from the other end after I answered it. "Silvia? It's me."

I narrowed my eyes in the darkness of my room. "W...who is this?"

Every hair on my body stood up, praying that it wasn't who I was fearing it was. If it happened to be him, I knew I'd hang up in a heartbeat. I'd changed my number before leaving Maine and filled a restraining order. All with good reasoning. I tried to erase him from my memory, but my stupid thoughts were still polluted with fragments of our time together.

"It's Lenard." The guy said.

My heart wasn't set at ease with those words.

"Who is this?" I repeated. "This isn't funny. Is this some practical joke?"

Lenard couldn't possibly be calling me. How would he have access to a phone where he was located? I knew he once had access to a phone, but with his bad behavior, they had temporarily taken away that privilege from him. Around that time, he got worse, having less reasons to leave his room. I had stopped hearing from him by that stage. He didn't sound the same now on the phone. This couldn't be real.

He chuckled. "I'm not trying to be funny, Silvie."

"Oh my God," I croaked. No one called me that besides my one brother. I'd hated it when we were growing up, but I slowly got used to it and admired it. "How are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm better..." he paused. "Or at least I'm getting there. How are you? I tried to call you at the house, but Mom said you moved in with dad. After I heard that, I nearly laughed my head off. You bad mouthed him nearly all the time when I was there."

"I don't hate him."

"But you don't like him either."

"So what? You don't like him either." I said. "I don't hate him as much, though."

"Oh, you don't? That's something new."

"He was way worse back in Maine. His anger only comes in small increments. He's trying. Or at least Evelyn is making him want to try, for their family. It's so different here."

"Oh, is he a changed man now, huh? That's interesting," he murmured. "You didn't answer my question, how are you, Silvia? Are you okay, living with dad and his mistress?"

I broke out into a smile. "I'm breathing, aren't I?"

"That doesn't mean you're okay," he stated bluntly. "I know that more than anyone else that breathing doesn't mean your anywhere near okay."

"I'll live through it, that's all I know," I continued to say. "Tell me about what's going on where you're at. How are you even able to call me right now with a Maine number? You're in Connecticut, loser."

"There's a girl here from Maine that snuck in a cell phone somehow," he informed. "It took me a while, but I finally got her to let me use it. It's better using the cell then the pay phone they have in the hallway. I've got to ask a facility staff member."

He went on to tell me about how the girl from Maine was around his age. He didn't say it out loud, but the way he was talking about her made me think that she made him feel better. It wasn't in what he said, it was what he didn't say. If he was standing in front of me, I knew he'd be smiling, speaking only good things about this girl he'd found in the mental hospital he was currently in. Her name was Karenna Patel, and he said her name at least five other times, dipped with love and affection.

I was happy for Lenard. I'd seen him two months before my trip to California, and he was no better than how I was at the time. Two months ago, he wouldn't get out of his bed to visit me. Two month ago, someone slashed the minivan's tires and threatened to do something worse.

His first week there, he would rip things apart and kick chairs and tables to their side. The first week before I came to California, I had filed my second restraining order.

After the incident five years ago, he hadn't been the same. It slowly ate at his insides until he lost himself inside the madness. He let the darkness consume his sanity, drowning in sorrow and regret.

I had also fallen to pieces, but in my own way. He played with his demons, letting them get whatever they wanted. I, on the other hand, numbed my own pain by mixing myself with the wrong kind of people. After Lenard snapped this year, so did I.

When my mother's tires had been slashed, she finally paid attention to me for the first time since dad had left her. She woke up-slightly-and did something motherly. She got me out of there. She was the one who called my father, telling him about how I needed to move in with him.

A lot of the pain struck by my brother and I had started off by something she brought into our home. Most of the reasons why I couldn't find myself to trust her anymore was because she'd let a monster sleep in her bed, feeding on her own woes.

The monster's name was Jared.

_____

Song: Gasoline by Halsey

Lyrics:

❝Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?

Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?

Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?

Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?❞

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