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The operator?

The lobby downstairs?

It wasn't like I had family to call. . .

My eyes fluttered to Salt as my thighs hit the edge of the table. He was still snoring, his mouth partially open. With shaky fingers I reached for the phone, pulling the receiver off. Lifting it to my ear, the sound of the dial tone was like a symphony in my head.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I let my brain remember the noise, allowing it to open old memories from my childhood. Calling my grandparents to wish them happy holidays, calling my friends from school to make plans.

My mind flooded with snapshots of my mother laughing as she talked to my grandmother and cooked dinner, the phone pinned between her shoulder and ear. Her smile as she danced around the kitchen, pulling food from the fridge and pans from the cupboard as she chatted away without a care in the world.

Tears filled my eyes as I opened them back up and muscle memory worked the keys as I made my call.

Each button made its signature beep as I pressed them down with a trembling finger. Holding my breath, I pushed the phone firmly against my ear, praying that my memory was right and the number would work.

'Mi dispiace, il numero che stai cercando di raggiungere. . .'An Italian automatic message came through, telling me that number was out of service.

Fumbling with my lip, I listened to the operator repeat the phrase, not wanting it to be true. Pushing the phone harder against my ear, I felt like if I just waited it out, if I didn't give up, that if I listened a little bit longer, maybe it would miraculously connect.

Without warning, the phone was yanked from my hand. Salt growled, tearing the phone from the wall and throwing it across the room. Crashing against the wall, it shattered into pieces.

My heart sank in my chest as I looked up at Salt, his eyes cold and angry. Stalking forward, he grabbed me by the arms and shoved me against the wall.

The edges of his fingers dug into my arms, his hands firmly holding me in place. Glaring at me, his nostrils flared wide as his jaw clenched.

“What the fuck did you just do? Who the hell did you just call?” His eyes darted between mine, furious and irate.

“No one,” I said, my voice stern and full of truth.

“Bullshit.” Taking in deep breaths of air, he spoke through gritted teeth. “Who the fuck did you call? Was it the cops?”

Shaking my head, I thinned my lips. “No, I. . .” Pausing, I closed my eyes slightly, feeling stupid for having even tried the number to begin with. “I called home.”

His hands tightened, jaw crooking. “Home? You expect me to believe that?”

Forcing my voice to steady, I could feel the tears sitting right there, ready to spill. But I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to allow those tears to consume me. “You can believe whatever the hell you want to.” Yanking my arms hard, I was able to pull them free. Standing taller, I stepped into his chest. “But don't worry, the number doesn't work anymore anyway, because she's dead.”

Salt's face went slack as his eyes softened. “What?”

“My mother, my father, my family, they're all gone.” Leaning back, I let my body rest against the wall. “They're gone. I just—” Stopping myself from saying what I was about to, I waved my hand dismissively. “It doesn't matter, forget it.”

“Finish what you were going to say. You just what?”

Looking up at him under hooded lids, I shrugged my shoulder. “I just wanted to hear her voice.” Dropping my eyes to the floor, I twisted my toe into the carpet. “It was stupid, I know, but I just wanted to hear her.”

Running his hand through his hair, he took a step back, putting some space between us. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that, I didn't know.” Sitting on the bed, he kept his head down. “How—”

Cutting him off, I snapped, “I don't want to talk about it.”

Bobbing his head up and down, he sucked in a gulp of air. “Alright, I get it.” Lifting his head, his eyes showed understanding. Even if he wanted to ask more, he wasn't going to.

We both sat in a long silence. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell him about my past, about how Virgo had taken my family from me, but it was just too hard to talk about.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked, breaking the numbing quiet between us.

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. “Yeah, that sounds good actually. I'm a little hungry.”

Salt got up and went to the fridge, pulling out a small white bag. “I got these from a little bakery in town, they're the best I've ever had.” Handing me a muffin, he took one for himself.