I am sending her messages.
Call her the next day.
Check her apartment.
But no response.
She is not in the lecture, of course not.
There is a memorial set for El on the campus.
I feel sick walking past it.
News hit that Richard Whitney-Morgan has been arrested for securities fraud, RICO violations, first-degree rape, sexual assault, and coercion.
And I finally understand what has happened.
I am back at her apartment. Why the fuck is there no doorbell?
I function like a robot until Wednesday afternoon, and my chance arises.
A man in overalls and a toolbox walks past me, goes to the door of the building Amelie lives in, and enters.
My chance.
I slip through the door behind him and into the stairwell. I get up and knock on her door.
Nothing happens.
“Amelie, it’s me,” I say. “Open up, please.”
But she doesn’t react.
I bang at the door.
“Open up, please!”
But she doens’t.
“I’m just gonna wait here,” I say, and sit down leaning against the wall.
I wait.
And wait.
Knock again.
And at some point, loud music blasts through the door.
The day becomes a night, and I sit in the darkness with no light falling into the staircase from the skylight anymore.
There are some noises here and there, and it creeps me out slightly.
But I will not let her be alone. First and foremost, because I am scared she’ll do something reckless.
I get up and knock again.
“Open the door, please.”
