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Text from Dante: Here you go with this dumb shit! You know I just got home. You couldn’t even wait until I relaxed before you started this ‘can we talk’ bullshit!

Text from Myla: What are you talking about?

Text from Dante: Bitch, stop acting stupid!

Text from Myla: I wanted to talk about driving your car while my car gets repaired.

Text from Dante: Oh lol! Yeah, that’s cool. You can borrow my car. Do you want me to bring you something to eat? How’s your day?

Text from Dante: You’re petty AF! It’s been 20 minutes since that last text, and you still haven’t responded. You triggered me, but I get the silent treatment. All you had to do was ask for the car. You didn’t have to say, “Can we talk?” because you know what that does to me. You trigger me then act like I’m the one that’s wrong. Borrow the coworker’s car that you’re fucking. I need mine.

The entire conversation had drained every ounce of Myla’s energy. She couldn’t understand how a simple text had escalated into something so diabolical. She never knew what would set him off or when was a good time to talk. She felt like she was walking through land mines.

The day after the event, he brought her flowers and candy. Then a week later, he was arguing about something else. His up-and-down moods were bringing her down. She was so depleted that she had called another woman for help.

“By the way, you’re shaking; I can tell that he did something that may have cost you a lot,” Hazel admitted as she watched Myla. Myla’s disposition had changed from heartbroken to angry.

“Mrs. Hazel, I loved him. I don’t know what I did to make him do this to me. My family, my friends, my career. My reputation is ruined.”

“Honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sure you were good and loved him the way a woman should love her partner. Your best would’ve never been good enough, because my son is a narcissist.”

“Narcissist?!” Myla shouted, her body recoiling at the term.

Never had she thought to diagnose him with such a disorder. The term narcissist seemed to be the latest buzzword. People sprinkled the phrase loosely in every situation as if it were parsley flakes on top of deviled eggs.

“Dante isn’t a narcissist. I would’ve seen the signs. I would’ve known the behavior,” Myla countered.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Hazel said truthfully. “You looked at Dante with love and made excuses for every violation that he made. You justified what he was doing or blamed yourself. In situations that he caused, you ended up apologizing. He was right, and you were always wrong; even when you did what he asked, it was still wrong, leaving you in a state of confusion with an unregulated nervous system. Dante can sense these things. Are you familiar with the scripture, The enemy prowls like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour?” Hazel asked.

Myla nodded but did not speak. She knew 1 Peter 5:8 very well. Myron had turned out to be a flawed father, but once upon a time, he was a great deacon.

“Unfortunately, my son is that lion. He latched onto a weakness of yours to fuel him. I’m willing to bet that he alienated you from everyone you love because, according to him, there were too many outsiders in your business. Sadly, like most women, you believed things would be ok because you loved him. News Flash: Dante isn’t looking for love. He’s looking for supply and control. Nothing more and nothing less,” Hazel stated. There was no judgment in her tone.

Myla could not say anything. Everything seemed so clear now. She was numb. Mental health, behavioral disorders, and substance abuse were her specialties. She had diagnosed several individuals with narcissistic personality disorder, yet she somehow missed the traits in the person living in her home.

“How could I miss this? This was my fault,” Myla stated.

“No, it’s not, honey. Dante is a broken man. A broken man is a woman’s worst enemy. He’s too selfish to even love himself, so it’s impossible for him to love you. Truthfully, love is not even what he’s looking for. He only wants what makes him feel good and in control. I love my son, but I cannot be around him. He’s done too much. I choose to protect my peace from his lies. His actions are predictable because he believes that he is the smartest person in the room.

“That makes him the weakest link. His ego will one day be the cause of his downfall. But this is information that you already know. I suggest you find a way to reconnect with your support system. You’re going to need it. The good times, the laughs, and even the 'I’m sorry’ gifts he'll probably give you after those rage filled arguments where everything is your fault and you're accused of doing all the things that only happened in his head. They are nothing more than tools; distractions to keep you on the never ending ride of his narcissistic abuse. But you're a doctor, so you already knew that the kindness after an argument is nothing more than a ploy. Narcissist like Dante rarely ever change. They don't even care enough to change their tactic. But if you choose to stay because you believe that you can change him, as so many women have in the past, put your good shoes on and get ready to dance with the devil,” Hazel said before ending the call.

She instantly called her wireless provider and asked to have her number changed. Anytime she received calls about Dante, it let her know that he was still alive. She did love her son, but she hated him too. He had selfishly dismantled her entire world. Hazel wanted to protect her peace and keep her sanity intact. She never wanted to hear Dante’s name again. His death was the only news that she wanted to be informed of.

Hazel’s admission had Myla’s head spinning. She had never heard a mother speak so cruelly of her son. She was on the verge of turning her phone off so she could clear her mind when she saw a text from Miranda

Text from Miranda: I can’t believe that this is us. We went from talking every day to not speaking in months. I’ve been calling you because I wanted to have this conversation with you about some information that I found. I see now that you aren’t going to answer. I pray that you’re ok. Anyway, click the link. You need to read this.

Myla clicked on the link to the newspaper article and nearly passed out when she read:

Teen Sought for Questioning in Arson Fire That Left One Dead

July 25, 2004

The house fire at 1708 Port Arthur Street left one individual fighting for their life and another deceased. Beulah Helgard called 911 after her seventeen-year-old grandson, Dante Helgard, threatened “to take what was rightfully his” before storming out of the house. She said she had no idea what that meant or what he wanted.

She informed paramedics that two hours after she had gone to bed, she could feel an intense heat and smell smoke. She called out for both grandsons, but no one answered. Eighteen-year-old Malachi Helgard was burned so severely that his body fused with the metal springs of his hospital bed. His body was so charred that fire fighters believe an accelerant was poured directly on his body.

Beulah was placed in a medically induced coma after receiving third-degree burns on 82% of her body. Doctors are saying it is unlikely that she will survive. Dante Helgard was not in the home and is still being sought for questioning.