A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. Ugh, I've been so damn busy with school. But I'll have more time now. Actually, this chapter I'm proud of; I'm not sure why, though…It just seems really kind of…deep. Haha, now I'm in one of my sentimental moods. It's kinda short, and I wanted to write more on this chapter, but decided not to. Anyways…the chapter…

3. Is That Really You?

I nearly dropped the phone. It wasn't…It couldn't be. No…not him. I had to say something, though. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't just hang up on him. "H-h-hey." I stuttered. "Um…uh…who is this?" I managed to ask, even though I already pretty much knew who it was.

He laughed softly, "You don't know?" He paused. "It's your dad. Remember me?" Another small laugh.

I swallowed hard; yeah, it was him. My dad. 'Hang up,' I told myself. 'Hang up!' But my arm wouldn't listen; it just kept the phone right up against my ear.

"Yeah…I remember you." It was hard not to remember my dad. The guy who had hit me every time I messed up, even if it was something small.

He laughed again, and I could practically see the smile on his face. I closed my eyes, trying to get that image out of my head, but opened them again as he asked me, "So, Craigger, do you want to come over? Spend some time with your dad?"

It all flashed back to me in a second. The hurt, the beatings, every single thing he had ever done to me. And it hurt more than anything; knowing that my dad…my dad…would hit me; would hate me for the things I did. This…this fact had a bigger impact on me than any of the beatings, or anything else he had done to me. See…in a phone call, everything can change.

I swallowed hard, thinking, No, of course not, I don't wanna spend any time with you, Dad. I want this to not be happening; you should be dead, damn it! I licked my lips slowly, wondering what to say to him. Even though I hated him, I still couldn't hurt his feelings. Something inside me wouldn't let me do that. Probably because the last time I saw him, we fought, and then he supposedly died…I didn't want that to happen again. I wanted my dad in my life, but at the same time, I didn't.

"I can't, Dad. Sorry, but, uh, Joey wants me to go get some breakfast." I lied, and then rubbed my eyes. I knew he was disappointed, so I added, "Maybe another time?" Inside my head, I thought, 'Not.'

"Sure." He replied, sounding distracted. "You can always come, anytime you want. I'll talk to you later, Craigger. Oh, and don't tell Joey I called. He wouldn't want us to talk or meet each other. You know him." And then, he hung up. I slowly put the phone down, thinking about everything that had just happened. He was alive. My dad…alive. I smiled slightly and sat back down, then watched TV until Joey and Angie got back, which was about 4 whole hours later.

Joey called me over to help as they were putting away the groceries. I ignored him, looking at the TV. I heard him sigh as he walked towards where I was. Joey picked up the remote and flicked off the TV. I continued to stare at the blank, black screen.

"Craig! Get up and help." He said loudly. I glanced at him, then back at the TV screen, shaking my head.

"I don't feel like it." Finally, I got up, and begun to walk upstairs, to my room. Of course, Joey followed me, "Get downstairs and help, Craig." His voice was calm, but he was definitely angry.

"No thanks." I replied politely, then walked inside my room and closed the door behind me before collapsing onto my bed and stretching. Joey opened my room door, "Did you take your meds?" He asked softly.

I frowned angrily. I hated when he asked me that. I just hated it. "Get the fuck out of my room, Joey!" Then he did something I would have least expected. He slapped me across the face. I stared fixedly at him, my cheek burning. But at least now I had a reason to get mad at him. Before I could say anything, though, Joey said angrily, "Don't swear, Craig! Angie's downstairs and I don't need her hearing you talk like that!" He pulled at my arm, forcing me to stand up. I pushed him away and grabbed some money, stuffing it into my pocket.

"I'm leaving, Joey. I've had enough." It was true; I had had enough. Enough of Joey never treating me like I was actually his son, enough of his stupid, little lectures that didn't mean anything to me, enough of how fucking stupid he seemed. I pushed past him, and walked downstairs. Angie was sitting at the dining table, drinking milk and eating Poptarts. There were a couple of crumbs around her mouth, and she had just spilt a bit of milk on her shirt. I had to smile. I op the shoe closet, and pulled on my worn, but still favorite, leather jacket and pair of shoes. I took one last glance of Joey's house, then unlocked the front door and opened it. As I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, I wondered where I should go now. Then, I remembered…You can always come, anytime you want. I grinned, and walked towards the bus stop, my thoughts focused on my dad.