I don’t answer him. Instead, I close the window just a bit and get into the shower. After peeling off my tank top, I step under the cold water, but the pressure is nonexistent. My eyes burn from all the tears, and when they finally stop, I get out. After putting on the same clothes, I open the bathroom door and check on Dylan, who is sleeping like a starfish. I walk over to the drawer and take out the white loose-leaf paper I’ve been working on for five years now. I walk to the table with it in my hand, my arm feeling like it’s carrying a thousand pounds. I walk over and turn on the faucet to fill a glass of water, and for once, I wish it was something stronger. Walking to the bedroom, I grab my phone and see that five more texts have come through, but I don’t even want to read them.

I sit at the little brown table that isn’t steady since one leg is a touch shorter than the other. Unfolding the white paper that is starting to be yellow, I make sure not to tear it where the creases are.

On the top of the page in the middle is Debt list, and under it is the amount I still owe: $17,405. That is what I still have to pay to the five credit cards that Andrew took out in my name that have been closed and sent into collections, and no matter how sorry they feel for me, they can’t do anything about it. The interest will go up now that I will have to stop the payments. Rubbing my head, I ignore the ringing phone, looking up just in time to catch Justin’s name. I shake my head and decline the call. I had actually put it on airplane mode before, but Dylan must have turned it off while he was watching videos.

It rings again, and I just take a deep sigh and decline it. When it happens four more times, I’m about to decline it again when I hear a soft knock on the door. I get up, not even sure who it could be, and when I open it slowly, Justin’s standing there. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get in touch with you?” he asks me and storms right into my apartment. I stand here with the door in my hand. He turns to face me, and I have to take him in. His hat is finally off, and you see his long black hair on the top but then short on the sides. “I have been calling and calling. I swear I was about to contact the hospitals.”

“What are you doing here?” Is the only thing that I can say. “How did you know which apartment I lived in?”