Here she is, waiting for her answer. Erica waits and waits, with brother in hand, but no one answers. It hasn't been long, but if she asks a question a question to someone, she expects an answer of sorts. Was the owner ofthat voice mute? Of course not. If the voice's owner was mute, how could she hear her? Maybe it was because Erica didn't answer the question! Yes, yes. That mist be the reason. The owner of that voice must be waiting for an answer to her own question! How rude of Erica, she should have answered that question beforing asking her own. 

"I'm sorry, I never answered your question! How rude of me. Yes, your words are true. My brother, Joey, and I are new and a bit lost. Would you mind helping us?"

Erica stands twitching and looking around, gripping tightly to her delusion. Though the voice she heard was real, she still lived In her fantasy of a normal life. Jail cells are apartments, and voices of mad people were voices of neighbors. She grew impatient for a reply to her own question, blaming herself for not answering the voice's own question before asking hers, even though only a few moments have passed since she replied to the voice. As she answered, soneone else appeared. Erica's eyes bolted to that person for a long moment, straining, twitching, and questionijg if this person was the voice's owner, before jolting back to the spot it focused on previously.