I slipped into my furry slippers. It made me feel warm as i dragged my feet across the hallway. I walk towards the bathroom and turn on the heater and the light. It's 5 degrees out there and i was freezing cold as i slowly undressed myself. I felt myself shiver but I ignored it. I was used to it. I the tap and let the warm water rest on my body. I dipped my hair letting water drip all over it. It felt warm and made me feel so much better. So much refreshed. Just what i needed to dry my tears.

The house sounded more hollow than any other days. I could hear my feet dragging together. However I have gotton used to it. I have gotton used to everything in this house. Being alone. Being abandon. Being left out. Being quiet. Years ago, I would cry to make the house sound more lively. I used to turn on every light in the house so it felt that the house was brighter, that used to warm my heart up. It used to.

I climb into my bed and picked up my phone. I dialed the number that I have memorise since young. It felt just like every other night. Me crying, Me showering, Me calling the same person. My mom gave me this number before she died. Whenever i felt horrible after a nightmare, her voice would always comfort me. Somehow it seemed like she could predict the future and gave me this number just weeks before she died. 

"Always call this number when you feel insecure. When you feel sad and need someone to comfort you. When you feel bad after crying. When you miss us."

Even though i never like talking. Listening to the other party always made me feel better. Always made me feel so much... happier. It made me feel calmer, and made my night less scary. Less likely to have a nightmare. again. After two rings, he picked up. I have knew this person since young. But i have never met him. I have never seen him in my life. We may even walked pass each other all the time but never knew that the other party was each other.

"You had a nightmare again?"

He voice was calming. Like the waves. Not when they were at high tide. But when at low tide. Calm, but powerful. 

I didn't answer. I never did. Not even once. But he understood and moved on.

We listened to each other's breath as if we were communicating through our breaths. He spoke occassionally which made me feel secure. My mom was right. She was always right. And i trust her. I could tell that although we called often, and rarely spoke, he managed to understand me. Somehow, it felt that he was meant for me. To understand me like no one ever does. Like no one ever did. I listened to his breath, then his voice, then his breath, and his voice again. It went on for 45 minutes. Even though i disagreed to things he say at times, somehow it seems like he can hear my head, he can hear the voice in my head allowing him to understand my yes-es and no-es.