Chapter Three- Frightening calls

~ Helena ~

The phone buzzed relentlessly, like a pesky fly that just wouldn’t leave me alone.

As the subway jolted to a sudden stop, I glanced at the screen, and my heart plummeted. The name flashing on the caller ID was enough to freeze me in place. It felt impossible. This couldn’t be happening.

My mouth went dry, and my hand trembled as I pressed the “accept” button.

“H–Hello?” My voice came out shaky, barely a whisper.

All I could hear was static at first, then a distorted whisper broke through: “Your father’s death… wasn’t an accident.”

Everything around me blurred. My legs turned to jelly, and I gripped the subway pole for dear life. “Who are you?!” I shouted, panic rising in my chest, my heart pounding like a drum inside a hollow cave. But just like that, the call was cut off.

I stood there, paralyzed, my reflection in the train window looking back at me pale and quaking. For weeks, I had told myself that things would get better. But now, it hit me hard: this nightmare was only just beginning.

Three months had slipped by since Dad’s passing, and nothing felt right anymore.

I missed his laughter, those warm hugs, and our secret late-night ice cream raids. Sometimes, I’d find myself waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hallway or his voice calling me “princess.” Then the silence would crash over me again, a brutal reminder that he was really gone.

That morning, I dragged myself out of bed, wiping away fresh tears. On my desk sat a photo of Dad and me, both grinning in the sunlight. I pressed a soft kiss to it before forcing myself to get up.

Mom was still curled up in bed when I brought her breakfast toast, bacon, and fresh orange juice. She managed a weak smile as I kissed her forehead. For a fleeting moment, we held each other in silence, clinging together like pieces of a broken ship trying to stay afloat.

But there was no time to linger in sorrow. Bills had to be paid, and food needed to be on the table. So I got dressed for work: a purple floral shirt, jeans, a swipe of lip gloss, and my hair pulled back in a ponytail. I hated my waitress job, but it was all we had.

The restaurant was alive with chatter, the clatter of dishes filling the air. I met up with my best friend, Tasha, in the locker room.

"Are you going to the carnival tonight?" she asked, fixing her hair in the mirror.

I shook my head. "No, I can’t leave Mom alone. She needs me."

Tasha let out a sigh. "Helen, you can’t hide forever. She’d want you to enjoy life too."

I managed a weak smile. "Maybe one day."

At work, I kept my cool, even when customers were a bit difficult. While I was taking an order, I spotted a young girl at a nearby table, looking pale and shaky. She rushed over and tugged at my sleeve, pulling me toward the restroom.

Once inside, she whispered, "I… I think something’s wrong. I saw blood in my shorts."

Her voice was shaky with fear.

I took a deep breath and softened my voice. "It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong. You just got your period; it happens to every girl."

Her eyes went wide. "But… My mom isn’t here to explain it. She died."

My heart broke for her. I wrapped her in a hug. "Then let me help you." I explained the basics, handed her some tissues, and helped her calm down. By the time we stepped out, her father was waiting for me, tears in his eyes.

"Thank you. Since her mother passed, I’ve felt lost on how to handle these situations," he said.

"It’s okay," I replied with a warm smile. "You’re doing your best." I gave him my number, just in case he ever needed advice for his daughter.

Moments like that made me realize how much I had grown since Dad passed away, how grief had forced me to be stronger than I thought possible.

By the time evening rolled around, my shift was done. Tasha and I hopped on the train home, sharing light-hearted laughs about the customers to fill the quiet. Just then, my phone buzzed.

At first, I thought it was Mom calling. But when I saw the name flash on the screen, I nearly dropped my phone in shock.

It was someone I never expected to hear from again, someone I was sure wouldn’t be reaching out to me.

When I answered the call, the words I heard shatt

ered everything I thought I knew about my father’s passing.