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" BABE...WHAT? "

alexa, play MR. SANDMAN by syml

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"Dad! I'm home!" I called out as I closed both the screen door and the actual door, but there wasn't a true reason for me to raise my voice at all. "Dad?"

He usually replied or came running within five seconds of hearing me come through the door. Maybe he's sleeping, I thought to myself, despite how unlikely that thought was. Something didn't feel right; I put down the grocery bags and tried to ignore that terrible feeling in my stomach. He was okay. He had to be okay-nothing bad had happened in so long, so he was probably sleeping. I was getting in my head about everything again.

I speed-walked down the small hallway, peeking into my unorganized bedroom before heading all the way down the hall, where Dad's bedroom was. Knocking softly on the partially closed door, I waited for all of thirty seconds of silence before deciding to just peek in. To my not-so-pleasant surprise, Dad wasn't in his room. Hell, I didn't know what was more unsettling-the fact that his bed was made, or the fact that he wasn't home and didn't leave a note.

"That's normal," I invalidated my own feelings, walking back out to the kitchen and beginning to put away the assorted groceries that had been on a list on our fridge for about a week and a half.

I opened the fridge, noticing the two week old box of donuts at the same time my phone rang. Just throw those away after you hang up, I urged myself as I picked up the phone. Maybe you should write a list of things to do while you're on the phone. Maybe then you'll actually do the stuff you need to do when you need to do it. It was an unknown number; I counted the days and months to myself before pressing my lips into a thin line.

"Hello? Who is this?" I would play along with whoever this fucker was, because as long as they were calling me, they wouldn't call Dad. I could live with that.

"H-hello?" There was definitely a voice changer being used. "I'm sorry for stuttering, I wasn't quite sure if I heard anybody. This is Simon." Generic name? Check. Gosh, can they ever try to be creative? "I'm looking for Dewey? Is this the wrong number? I met him-"

"Where'd you meet him?" I couldn't take this bullshit. They need to just get to the point, honestly. 

"At a bar the other night, we hit off really well." The lie was see through. "He gave me his number, but I'm assuming you're his daughter?"

"You met him at a bar." My words weren't a question, I was repeating their own due to how stupid their reason sounded.

"Yes! I'd place it at about last Thursday or so, now, is he home?"

"That's really funny to me, that uh- that you met him at a bar, because he hasn't gone to a bar since January." I retorted, but in all actuality, there was a very good chance that Dad was at a bar right now. "And before you try and say that he might've just lied to me about where he was, he doesn't do that."

"You didn't answer my question. I asked: is he home?"

Maybe this call wasn't another instance of a cruel but harmless prank, I began to worry myself into oblivion. Maybe this is a legitimate Ghostface call. Maybe I was set to be the first victim in a ruthless killing spree. Oh my gosh, would Dad have to find my body?

"You don't have to give me an answer I already know." Chills. All throughout my body. "Daddy isn't home, he's got himself in a small...predicament."

"Alright, who is this?" I asked, putting my phone on speaker and rushing to double check that everything was locked. "If you want me to be scared, then BAM, I'm scared, you've got me."

Stop telling them you're scared, I scolded my mouth. If you let them know that you're scared, that's when they attack you. That's when you become a Ghostface victim. The disguised voice let out a crackly laugh. I recognized that laugh.

"Oh, you motherfucker." I laughed with a mixed tone of anger and relief. "Amber, are you shitting me?"

"What? Who's Amber?" There was the stifle of laughter.

I sat down at the kitchen counter, propping both elbows up on the counter and knitting my eyebrows together in another odd mix of emotions as Ghostface-who I've gotten down to be either Amber or Mindy-tries to rekindle the burned out prank call.

"Amber Freeman, take that voice changer away from your phone right now." I demanded, allowing my body to relax. "I really thought you were better than this, I mean, like, wow...fuck you for doing this."

"Stand up, Tatum. Life isn't such a fucking joke, you should know that." Holy shit. "After that shit with your father, one would think you'd know that. Now stand up, Tatum. Lets play a game."

"Fuck off." My voice was shakier than I'd like it to be, but I hung up before whoever this fucker was could say anything else.

Maybe it was still Amber, and she was just being a real dick, I panicked up some far-fetched theory. This couldn't be real. I mean, why would they call me on my real phone? I could get them tracked, or get their I.P address, and then I could nail them right then and there. But how long would that take? Too long, probably. Maybe they won't call again. If I'm on to them in anyway, why would they call? To be for sure exposed? That wouldn't make any sense-it'd be pure idiocy on behalf of this Ghostface caller. My phone rang again, and I picked it up-why? Don't ask that question.

"Listen up, you motherfucker, this was funny at first, but now it's gone too far. You can go fuck-"

"Babe...what?"

Oh fuck. It was Wes calling me. Ghostface backed off. Now I need to explain, and it's going to sound messy, and I don't want to. Fuck.

"Uhm, you know," I wasn't going to tell him the whole truth. I couldn't worry him like that. "It was just a prank call, and they were saying...awful things about my dad, so I just...mhmm!"

"You do know that doesn't explain, like, anything, right?" He let out a small laugh that crackled through the phone, and I pressed my lips together.

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, but-but what were you calling for?" I asked, standing up and partially crossing my arms as I began the short walk to my room.

"My mom's driving your dad to your place," his voice was quiet now, and I sank into the comforting fluffy blanket. "He's really drunk. She tried to help sober him up, but I mean...he's still pretty bad."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say. It's not that I never expected this to happen at some point, it's just that I never know what to say. This has happened before. "Okay."

There was silence between my boyfriend and I for a couple of seconds; my breathing returned back to the shaky state it had been in a few minutes ago. He was doing so good, I let sad thoughts fuel my sad emotions. What made him go back?

"You okay, Tate? I know this is never easy, um...I'm here for you if you ever need to talk." I could sense that he was going to start rambling, but I wasn't about to stop him. His rambles helped to calm my thoughts, oddly enough. "I mean, whether it's about the weather, or about your dad-or your mom, too-I'll be right here. I'm only a phone call away, all times of the day, any time of the day."

"I know, I know." I could only imagine how sad this sounded to him. "Well, I'm gonna go and get ready to help him now, alright? I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah! Yup, I'll be there first thing in the morning," I could see the sad smile on his face, even though we weren't on facetime or in the same area. "Or earlier, since...well, you know how my mom is."

"Great," I never liked to say goodbye first, so I let my words hang in the air.

"I'm sorry about all of this, Tates."

"No, no, don't um..." I looked up to the ceiling, trying not to cry. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault."

"You know what I mean, I mean..." 

There was three beats of silence. I would know, I counted them.

"You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of this."

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