Mike had called her a little after her father did, questioning if she was okay, what she was doing. Typical Mike stuff. But he sounded more rushed, more worried.
She knew where she was supposed to go to meet her father. She didn't want to go alone— in fear William was back. She'd thought it was impossible, but the way he went down, it couldn't have been.
She crosses her arms. She'd fallen asleep in Mike's hoodie and it was starting to smell like her.
Rubbing under her eyes gently, she stuffed her hands in the pocket of the hoodie and walked back to her room.
She wanted to pace, sink to the floor and cry for hours. She'd always suspected her father was dead. He abandoned her at the age at 12, causing her to raise herself.
She didn't want to see him ever again, but she needed the closure. She'd thought she'd have a family when she found out about her father— a baby, a husband, and they'd find Susie.
She found Susie, just not how she wanted.
She picked her keys up and tried to regain her breath, searching her room quietly for her gun. She didn't know what her father was capable of, who he was with, what he was planning to do.
She wanted to call Mike so badly. She wanted to cry to him and tell him what was wrong, so he could go with her. But she didn't want to drag him into her own family problems— he has enough on his plate.
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She's sitting silently in her living room, blinking slowly at the TV. She'd gone so crazy last night trying to prepare and find her father, she fell asleep on the couch.
Friends was playing quietly as she tried to focus on the show. She had a pounding headache and her under eyes have never looked worse. She hadn't picked up any calls recently, even though it'd rung well over four times.
She suspected one of them was Abby. She missed their daily call time today, trying not to cry as she heard the phone ring again.
She knew one of them was Mike too. He lets the phone ring all the way through her voicemail, then redials a few seconds later.
She'd finally gotten out of Mike's hoodie, and it was leaning against the side of the couch. She threw it off before she fell asleep.
She took in a deep breath and touched around for the remote, moving it in front of the TV and turning it off. Rachel's voice was starting to piss her off.
The phone rings as she stands back up and she groans internally. The only reason she picked it up in the first place is because she thought it'd been Abby.
"Hi, bug." Her father greets. God, she wants to throw up. "Hi." She mumbles back. She's fighting every urge to not hang the phone back up and ignore him for the rest of her life.
