We both stare at my smashed phone on the sidewalk. I can hear Leila's breathing pick up a little bit, the small puffs of her warmth breath meeting the cold night air appearing more frequently. Fuck, I shouldn't have done that.

"Leila, I'm sorry," I begin, touching her arm. She doesn't pull away, that's a good sign. "It's just that... it was... the person who was calling..." I can't get the words out. My whole body is shaking with anger. 

"I know," she whispers. She looks up at me, the moonlight catching her dark brown eyes. She looks sad. For me. I never wanted that.

I kiss the side of her head and hold onto her for a few seconds. We silently say goodbye and she turns to walk back to her house. I watch to make sure she gets in safely before I slam the front door shut, leaving my broken phone outside. 

I pace back and forth in the hallway, trying to calm down before venturing further into the house. Mom doesn't need to see me like this. 

The house is still and quiet, only making the reverberations of my pounding heart more pronounced. I didn't even pick up the phone, hear his voice, talk to him. And somehow he still can get this reaction out of me. Despite being away for years, my father is still a powerful presence. 

Once my hands stop shaking, I walk into the kitchen to find my mom on her phone. She looks like she's been crying, her eyes swollen and face red. My system is flooded with anger again. 

I take long, determine strides towards her and snatch the phone away from her ear. 

"Tristan, don't," she begs in little gasps.

"How dare you contact either of us!" I yell into the phone. "We don't need or want you back in this house, let alone our lives!"

"Son, you sounds so grown up," the deep voice calmly states on the other end.

"I'm not your son," I growl back. "The way you treated me, I didn't think you thought so either."

"I heard you took over The Underground," he changes the subject without missing a beat. "Made some big changes, none of which I agree with. I'll have to do a lot of damage control."

"Damage control?" I scream. Is this guy for fucking real right now? "I have worked my fucking ass off to undo all the damage you have done!"

"Language," is all he says. 

I end the call and carefully place mom's phone on the kitchen island. No need to break hers as well.

"Tristan," mom says softly. I look up from the ground to meet her eyes. "You do so much for me."

"I'm only trying to repay all you've done for me," I say back , smiling a little bit when she walks over to give me a hug. Mom is so small, she only comes up to about my chest. Sometimes it feels like she's the child, but then I remember how much she has grown after my piece of shit father was put away. She got her voice back, and now he's trying to take it away again.

"I know you think we can keep pushing him away," she says into my shirt. "But you know how he is. He will find a way back despite all of our efforts."

"I'm not going to let that happen," I promise her.

She pulls back, reaches up to give me a kiss of the cheek and says good night. I remain in the kitchen for a little while longer, thinking of ways to keep my father at bay.

We could move away. No, her whole life is here and once I'm gone at college she'll need her friends. And my business is here. Plus, he is determined; once he knows what he wants, he'll stop at nothing to get it. Moving is not an option. We are not runners. We're fighters.

I could get him arrested again. But that would mean he would have to actually do something. I can guarantee he will slip up, but I do not have the patience to wait for that to happen. Maybe I can set him up? No, too risky. I could slip up and risk losing everything. Not an option.

Murder? No. Fuck. I need to go to bed, sleep on it. 

I go to my room, change, and peer out the window. Leila's lights are off. She's safe in bed. No more crazy attacks from creepy guys. No unprovoked fights with preppy class presidents. No revenge seeking ex-best friend coming to get her. She's safe for the night. And I can rest easy for now.