Sylvia was glad that she had gotten out of the hospital in time for Mrs. Miller's funeral.

There was a certain glint in Billy's eyes as he stared at the coffin in front of him. He was barely listening to his family member speaking, and Sylvia could tell. She could see his eyes welling up with tears, the same eyes that had been punched relentlessly by Frank, the same eyes that had yellowing bruises surrounding them.

Sylvia's own eyes ached with tears. She couldn't stop replaying what Mrs. Miller had said to her in the closet that dreadful night in her head. Mrs. Miller wanted a better life for herself and Billy.

She was murdered before she could achieve it, and Frank was still on the loose.

*

After the services ended, Sylvia took this opportunity to walk up to Billy, who was sitting on the couch in the dusty lobby of the funeral parlor. The air in that place was thick and filled with a certain darkness that Sylvia could not describe.

She sat beside Billy gently, before she followed his gaze to the floor.

He hadn't spoken one word to her since he was discharged from the hospital, and it was killing her. She wanted to know how he was feeling, she wanted to be the one he confided in, like how it used to be.

"Billy," Sylvia's voice was hoarse as she bit down on her lip and stared at him.

He continued to ignore her, his eyes set on the floor. Sylvia couldn't help but graze over the healing wounds littering his face.

"Billy?"

Silence.

Sylvia inhaled sharply before she continued, "I know that you don't want to talk to me but I think you need to."

Billy closed his eyes and a tear slipped down his cheek.

"Come on, Billy. You... you obviously need a friend, Billy. As much as you want to be alone, it's not good for you," she continued walking on eggshells. "My therapist used to tell me that all the time. It's not good to keep your feelings bottled up."

Billy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and continued to ignore her.

"Talk to me, Billy, please. This hurts so much," Sylvia told him. "You have no idea how badly it hurts me to see you in pain, and you won't even talk to me about it. It's so selfish."

Billy slowly turned towards her, and Sylvia leaned back after realizing what she had said.

"I didn't - I didn't mean it like that," she started, but he cut her off.

"It's always about you, Sylvia," Billy told her. "You know that?"

It felt like a knife had impaled her heart.

"Um, no it's not, Billy. This has nothing to do with me and I know that-"

"This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you," he told her.

Sylvia's jaw fell open and she scoffed. "You're telling me that I'm the reason your mother was killed?"

Billy simply nodded.

"What is wrong with you, Billy?" Sylvia asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she moved to sit a few more inches away from him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong with me, Sylvia. Our entire friendship I was in love with you, and you didn't love me back, I understand that. But fuck, you would never stop with those sly digs about it and you'd always make fun of me..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"Billy..."

"I'm done with you. It has always been about you and now it's still all about you and your stupid hallucination of that girl that you see all the time," he said, his voice extremely calm despite the heaviness of his words. "Other people are suffering besides you, believe it or not."

Sylvia felt offended by his accusation.

"Listen, Billy, I know that I'm selfish sometimes, I know I am. I- I know that I have been kind of mean to you in the past, but, I never want to see you suffer. I'm so genuinely sorry for everything, Billy," Sylvia told him, tears sliding down her cheeks and dripping off her chin, onto the skirt of her black dress. "I'm so sorry."

Billy rubbed his hands over his face.

"If you wouldn't have broken into my room, I wouldn't have gotten in a fight with Frank, and everything would be normal right now," Billy said, his words and tone emotionless. "My mother would still be here."

"Nothing was ever normal about the situation you were in, are you serious? You were getting hurt," she cried out.

"At least he was hurting me and not her," he answered.

Sylvia shook her head. "Whether you want to hear it or not right now, it's the truth - your mother allowed your abuse to happen. It was only a matter of time before someone ended up in a coffin and... it could have been you," she told him, reaching out to grab his hand but he yanked it away from her.

"I fucking wish it was-" Billy said, his voice raising slightly before he took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "I fucking wish it was you, honestly."

Sylvia immediately stood up, her heart racing in her throat and her ears ringing. She had never in her life heard Billy say such horrible things about anyone before, let alone her, somebody who is supposed to be his best friend.

"I'm trying so hard to be understanding because your mother passed, but you are saying horrible things to me, Billy, and I'm-"

"Get the fuck away from me, Sylvia. Just take a hint and get the fuck away. Don't talk to me anymore," he told her.

Sylvia couldn't believe her ears. "I always wanted to call the police on Frank, Billy. I would see the bruises on you every time we hung out, and it would destroy me. It would fucking rip me apart and you know that. But you told me not to, and I listened, and look what happened. So if you're going to sit here and say I'm in the wrong, then fuck you," she said through gritted teeth. "Fuck you."

She heard footsteps and saw Quinn walking over to them in a tuxedo, her chest heaving as tears were spilling uncontrollably out of her eyes.

"Sylvia, what are you doing? Why are you saying that to him?" Quinn asked her, his eyes widened as he looked over at Billy.

"Quinn, thank God you're here, he won't talk to me," Sylvia said, her voice cracking as she tried to take deep breaths but she almost felt like she was hyperventilating. She couldn't inhale a full breath into her lungs and her body was trembling. "Quinn, get him to talk to me, please," she begged.

Quinn stared at Sylvia, his dark eyes locking on her, almost to tell her that there was nothing he could do. He then sat beside Billy and wrapped his arm around him, before Billy slowly turned to press his face into Quinn's collared shirt. Sylvia watched as Billy's body racked with sobs.

"You are both..." Sylvia wanted to hurt them both more than anything, but she was only digging herself a deeper grave. "Goodbye," she told them, before she sniffled and turned away.

Immediately, she broke into a sob as she stormed out of the funeral parlor.

*

By night time, Sylvia still felt miserable. The dog, who still had no name, curled up beside Sylvia as she lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling.

It was about eleven o'clock at night, her father was fast asleep, and she couldn't stop replaying her and Billy's conversation over and over again in her head.

Her eyes were exhausted and swollen from sobbing. She wished that her heavy eyelids could indicate an ounce of sleep coming to her that night, but she knew it wouldn't.

She looked at the window - the dreaded window where Helen used to visit her. There had to be a reason why Helen wasn't visiting her anymore, could she have been cured? It seemed impossible, as she had been feeling worse and normally, her schizophrenia worsened with her depression and trauma.

However, Helen was nowhere to be found. Perhaps Helen no longer needed her either.

Sylvia stood up and walked over to the window, staring at it. It didn't do any good, as all she could see was the reflection of her and her room, and not the pitch black outdoors.

In her reflection, she saw a figure standing behind her reflection, and she jumped. She turned to find her father standing at the doorway, staring at her.

"Dad, you - you scared me," Sylvia clenched her chest as her heart was racing a mile a minute.

"Sylvia, I told you to get rid of that dog a long time ago," he said, staring at the small dog who was sleeping peacefully in Sylvia's bed.

"I need her," Sylvia told him. "She... helps me. I haven't seen Helen in a week."

"I've told you enough times, that's it," Sylvia's father walked over to the dog and lifted her up. The dog growled and barked at her father, but he still managed to hold her tightly, and Sylvia ran over to him.

"What are you doing? Dad, stop!" Sylvia practically screamed as her father walked the dog out of the room. "Dad, stop it please! I need her!"

Sylvia was hot on her father's trail, grabbing at his arm and trying desperately to stop him from putting her dog outside.

Suddenly, her father swung his arm back and knocked his elbow into her ribcage, shoving her into the wall. The wind was knocked out of her as her back hit the wall and she slid down it, her eyes wide and her eyebrows furrowed as she watched him continue to walk towards the doorway.

"What is wrong with you!" Sylvia screamed out, her voice blood-curdling. She hadn't screamed that loud in a while.

Her father opened the front door and set the dog down. The dog was barking viciously, trying desperately to get back into the house but her father slammed the door on her. Sylvia listened to the poor animal scratching at the door, but her father kicked the door hard, scaring her away.

"You are a monster since mom left, you never used to be like this!" Sylvia cried out. "You hurt me, dad, you hurt me!"

Her father stared down at her, and there didn't seem to be even a glisten of emotion behind his gaze. In the dimly lit hallway, his figure was a shadow, but his emotionless eyes said enough.

"That's someone's dog you stole. Let it go back home. The poor thing starved for a week in your room before I found it while you were in the hospital," her father explained monotonously.

"Don't pretend like you care about her feelings! She helped me not see Helen. Now I'm going to see Helen again!" Sylvia cried out, her face hot and her cheeks red, stained with tears as she stood to her feet.

Her father just stared at her. "Get to your room."

"What happened to you?" Sylvia pressed. His entire personality shifted, and Sylvia felt like someone had taken her father away and replaced him with an imposter.

"Get to your room, I'm sick of you blatantly ignoring me, Sylvia. Get to your room now," he pointed towards her doorway.

Sylvia gritted her teeth and turned to walk down the hallway into her bedroom, slamming the door shut.

*

She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. She couldn't stop. She didn't have anywhere to run to, either, because Billy hated her and she didn't even know where he was staying anymore.

She texted Quinn, "are you up? I really need to talk to you." She called him several times as well, but it went to his voicemail every time.

She waited until the clock hit one AM, and then she opened the window and jumped out, holding a flashlight in her hand. The summer heat was becoming a cooler breeze with each night that passed, and she regretted wearing a tee shirt and shorts every time.

Sylvia walked to Quinn's aunt's house where he was staying. She remembered him saying once that his window was on the left side of the house, so that's where she went.

Before she approached the window, she wondered if she should even do this. Quinn probably hated her too for some reason, as that seemed to be a common theme for everyone in her life.

But she wasn't about to let her last friend go. She pressed her fingers against the window and slowly looked inside, seeing a room that was very bland but decorated with floral wallpaper and white furniture.

Her heart dropped when she turned to look at his bed in the corner of her room, and she saw movement that she couldn't quite see until she moved closer to the glass and got a better look at it.

Quinn and Billy were both feverishly making out, their shirts off and their hands hastily grabbing at each other.

_