“Hey. I know, it’s late. When you get this….” A pause came, nothing coming over the line for a few seconds, before a small sigh could be heard. “…Look, I got arrested. I’m down at the station. So… uh, yea. I need you to pick me up....”

Antonio sent the voicemail two hours ago. He stared at the roof of the jail cell quietly now, lying on the stiff cot. Bruised knuckles rested on his stomach, but they hurt less than they used to. Dully, he wondered if his sibling was even coming. He wouldn’t blame them if they didn't. After so many of these 'incidents,' he knew it wasn't a surprise at this point.